Tuesday, October 13, 1993

U

sually, Nora’s bus came about fifteen minutes before Tommy’s, but not always. When it was late, they had to wait on the same corner.

It wasn’t just them, of course. Other kids were there too. Pam from down the street and Roger from across the street. And a few high school kids, waiting for Tommy’s bus. She only knew one of them by name: Craig.

She focused on the view up the street, pretending not to see Craig, not sure if he’d remember her from the camp bus. But if he did remember her and said, ‘hi,’ she didn’t want Tommy to see her being friendly to the kid she’d seen tormenting him. And, to be honest, she didn’t want Craig to see that she was Tommy’s sister. Probably she was a terrible person. Probably she’d go to hell. But it was true; she was ashamed of her brother. Family comes first.

The morning was windy, the air nipping with a hint of autumn. Kids stood apart from each other, everybody in their own early-morning sphere of please-don’t-bother-me. A few faced down the street, watching the corner where the buses would appear. Nora was one of them. She couldn’t wait for the bus so she could get on and sit with Annie.

As usual, she had a list of things ready to talk to her about, things she needed Annie’s insights on before starting the day. Middle school was still pretty new. So many new faces. So much homework. So many hallways to navigate, full of kids Nora often thought she’d seen in her classes but wasn’t sure, couldn’t remember because they changed rooms for each subject. The worst part was that, apart from lunch, she didn’t have a single class with Annie. And at lunch, their table was a zoo with lots of kids vying for Annie’s attention, so they couldn’t really talk. The bus ride was their only chance during the day for time alone. It wasn’t enough, though. Nora often felt lost, still unsure what the rules were or how kids measured each other in this realm, and she yearned to look over and check out Annie’s reactions, to see if she should be friendly or aloof, stand straight or slouch, act attentive or bored. Unmoored, she held on, waiting for the bus rides to and from school to sit with Annie, get her bearings and feel anchored.

But the bus was nowhere—twenty minutes late now. She gazed down the street, willing it to appear. Tommy wandered over and stood right next to her. Oh God. She didn’t look at him. Instead, she edged away, just far enough to make it seem like they weren’t together. His cowlick stood at its usual attention. His hair clumped onto his forehead, wadded like black steel wool. His back slumped under the weight of his backpack.

“Where’s your bus?” Tommy asked.

“How should I know?” She shrugged.

“Might have broken down.”

“Hey, Bozo! You bothering that young lady?” Craig strutted over. “Because you’re out of your league.”

Tommy shrunk, hung his head.

“It’s fine.” Nora slid between them. “He’s fine.” She didn’t say he was her brother.

Craig skirted around her to get to Tommy. Tommy turned vivid red. His eyes darted from side to side as he backed away.

“You’re supposed to wait over by the street sign, away from normal people. How many times have I told you not to bother anyone?” Craig moved forward, and Tommy moved back as if in an ominous, tuneless cha-cha. “I warned you to keep out of my sight, you turd.” Craig’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes gleaming, hair fluttering in the wind.

“Leave him alone,” Nora spoke up. “He didn’t do anything.” But she didn’t mention, didn’t say out loud, that Tommy was her brother.

Some of the other kids knew, of course: Pam and Roger. They all lived in the same neighborhood. Most everyone at the bus stop knew who everyone else was, which house they lived in, who was family. Maybe Craig knew, too. Maybe she didn’t have to tell him.

Before she could decide, Craig darted, grabbing Tommy’s jacket, yanking it so hard and fast that Tommy fell to his knees. Craig pounced, pushing Tommy down and mounting him like a pony.

“Stop!” Nora said. Or meant to. Her mouth opened, but she had no air. She needed to move, to grab Craig and stop him, but her limbs froze, and she stood stunned and silent, doing nothing for her brother.

The other kids gathered around Craig and Tommy, watching. Saying nothing, doing nothing.

“You make me sick, you turd. Bothering that nice girl. You make me puke! Apologize to her. Now!” Craig smacked Tommy’s rear. “I didn’t hear you! Say you’re sorry!”

Tommy wriggled and bucked, trying to knock Craig off of him.

“Craig.” Nora found her voice. She stepped closer and put her hand on his shoulder. “He didn’t bother me. Let him be.”

But Craig didn’t let him be. As he climbed off Tommy, he hissed, “Stinking piece of shit.”

Tommy tried to get up, but Craig shoved him down again.

Nora turned to the other kids. Roger. Pam. The other, older kids whose names she didn’t know. All their faces had changed, become rapt and savage. Craig seemed spurred on by their attention, his shoulders bulged, jaw rippled, fists tightened. He loomed over Tommy like a coiled snake, poised to strike its prey.

Nora couldn’t breathe. Craig wasn’t going to stop. Tommy was breathing hard. She needed to do something besides repeat, “Craig, let him alone.” She might have thought of a way to intervene, but right then, as she was desperate to stop the confrontation, her school bus pulled up. She hadn’t heard it bluster and snort up the street, so she’d been surprised when the circle of onlookers split to reveal the bright yellow monster, idling with its doors flapping open.

Craig looked up, his fist hanging in the air, aimed at Tommy’s jaw.

The moment hushed. Nobody moved. Leaves stopped rustling because even the breeze held still.

“Everything okay out there?” Sally, the overweight bus driver, craned her neck to see what was going on, but the kids climbing onto the bus blocked her view. Nora didn’t follow them; she didn’t dare get on the bus and leave Tommy undefended.

Family comes first.

Who knew what would happen, how far Craig would go? Even with the bus driver watching, he was leaning over Tommy, lip curled and sneering, aching to hurt him.

“Craig? What are you doing?” someone shouted from the bus.

It was a girl’s voice. Nora wheeled around. Annie leaned her head out a window, scowling. “Don’t be a bully. Let him up and come over here.”

Craig’s eyes softened, his sneer eased into a grin. “Hey, Annie! How’s it goin’?” He hurried to Annie’s window, stood chatting and laughing.

Wait. Craig knew Annie? Annie knew Craig?

Nora helped Tommy to his feet. His nose was bleeding, so she gave him a tissue. He didn’t answer when she asked if he was all right, didn’t even look at her. Leaves and dry grass clung to his clothes. He recoiled when she tried to brush him off.

Sally called out, “Anyone else getting on? Last call.”

Nora spun around and hurried to the bus, leaving Tommy alone. But it wasn’t her fault he’d been hurt. And she had no choice; she had to go to school. She ran up the steps, rushing to ask Annie about Craig, how she knew him, why she was friends with him, how much she’d seen of the scuffle with Tommy, how much she knew about the kid he’d been pounding. Weirdo. Creep. Freak. She ought to tell Annie about Tommy being her brother. The longer she waited, the harder it became to fess up. Besides, Annie had stuck up for Tommy even without knowing who he was. She might not care that he was Nora’s brother. And it would be a relief not to keep the secret anymore. Annie was her friend, no matter what.

She was halfway up the aisle before she noticed the red-headed girl. Nora stopped, stung as if sucker punched. For the first time that school year, Annie hadn’t saved her a seat.