The bus driver sighed as he opened the front door. The rest of us watched in silence as the man climbed onto the bus, taking two steps at a time. He was breathing hard. So was I.
Jake had slid the window shut. Was it my imagination or were there pinkish specks on my seat? Could it be field berry yogurt?
I thought about switching seats, but of course, it was too late for that. If I stood up, I’d look suspicious. So I leaned as far back into my seat as I could.
The man headed straight for the driver. “Who the hell threw that yogurt at my car?” His face was almost as red and shiny as the traffic light that hadn’t changed in time.
The driver shrugged. “I wish I knew. They’re all monsters—especially the ones at the back.”
Once he realized the driver couldn’t help him, the man turned to the rest of us. His voice boomed as if it was coming through a loudspeaker: “Do you understand how dangerous this could have been? I couldn’t see out my window! I could have caused an accident! People could have gotten hurt!” When he raised his arm in the air, I noticed a ring of sweat under his armpit.
I tried not to squirm, even when Kelly uncrossed her long legs and winked at me.
“I demand to know who did it! Who threw that yogurt?” The man looked toward the back of the bus, eyeing every single one of us. Somehow I managed to meet his gaze.
I wondered who would turn me in. Sandeep? It would be a way for him to get even for me calling him raghead on the first day. Jewel? She was just the type to rat out another kid. Valerie? She thought I was a personal enemy of Mahatma Gandhi. Or maybe one of my friends from the back of the bus? Someone who’d tell on me just for the fun of it.
But no one said a word.
The man reached into his pocket for his cell phone. “If you don’t tell me who’s responsible, I’m going to call the police!” he said, snapping the phone open.
Uh-oh, I thought. Now I’m cooked. I imagined the police hauling me off the bus. Then I imagined my parents’ faces when they’d get the news. Their son—their only child, the one who, up to this year, had been a model student—arrested for public mischief.
I tried not to move. But now, other kids were squirming. I looked over at the front of the bus. Jewel was chewing her lip. Sandeep was buried in a textbook.
No one was going to turn me in.
The driver got up from his seat and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You’re not going to get anything out of these kids. The monsters have a code of silence. And phoning the police won’t get you anywhere, either.”
The man made another fist and shook it in the air. “You might have gotten away with it this time, whoever you are. But take it from me—life’s gonna catch up with you. And it’ll make you pay.”
“Hey, that’s pretty funny—life’s gonna make you pay!” Jake jabbed me in the ribs.
Pierre’s shaggy head poked up from the seat behind us. “That guy’s a real nut,” he said. “I mean it’s not like anything happened. Maybe he just doesn’t like yogurt!”
“Maybe he’s got a milk allergy!” Kelly added.
The light was red again, but when it turned green, the bus driver didn’t move.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Jake called out.
The driver was hunched over the wheel. But then he stood up and turned to face us. “Look,” he said in a quiet voice, “I’ve had it with you monsters. That guy was right— someone could have been hurt just now. So I’ve made a decision: I’m not driving you anywhere today. You’re on your own. Get the hell off my bus!”
Jewel gasped. I couldn’t tell if it was because the driver was kicking us off the bus or because he’d used the word hell.
There was grumbling everywhere—up front, in the middle and at the back where I was sitting. “I’m going to be late for my piano lesson,” I heard Sandeep say.
We all waited a few minutes before getting off the bus—in case the driver changed his mind the way our parents sometimes did when they got angry. But he didn’t. He just sat there, tapping his foot on the floor, and not looking at any of us when we finally filed out of the bus.
We walked to the metro station in a pack. It took twenty minutes, even though we were hoofing it.
Valerie was up ahead. When we stopped for a red light, I saw her balance on one leg to kick off a shoe. Then she leaned down to examine her heel. She must have had a blister. When she caught me looking at her, she glared.
Jake had thrown his arm over my shoulder. “Hey, that was cool, man!” he said. “I’ll never forget how red that guy’s face was when he got on the bus.”
“Or the way the yogurt smeared under the wipers,” Pierre added, laughing.
I couldn’t see Sandeep. He must have started running to get to his piano lesson.
I decided not to feel guilty. I might have tossed the yogurt at the guy’s car, but in a way, I told myself, we’d all done it. Every single one of us.