Georgie was back at school. The only problem was Mrs. Papadopoulos. She kept phoning to make sure he hadn’t lost his puffer.
Things on the bus had changed since Georgie’s asthma attack. Sure, there was still singing and screaming and fighting. Pierre sneezed into his hand and wiped it right on the pole next to him. “That is so disgusting!” Jewel Chu called out.
For once, Jake agreed with Jewel. “Haven’t you ever heard of this invention called Kleenex?” he asked Pierre.
The main change on the bus was we weren’t so divided up anymore. Like right now, Georgie was standing at the front, telling Sandeep he thought our presentation on Rosa Parks was pretty cool.
I was sitting near the middle of the bus. I could have sat with the guys at the back—we were on speaking terms again—but Valerie had saved a spot for me. I liked sitting next to her, and besides, these days the middle of the bus felt like the right place for me. I had friends up front—and in the back.
Even the new bus driver was getting a little friendlier. We had been through a lot together. He’d risked getting in trouble with his supervisor to get Georgie to the hospital, and once we got there, he’d helped carry Georgie into the emergency room. We had all been pretty scared when Georgie’s fingernails started turning blue.
The driver had told us his name was Thomas. It’s funny how things feel different once you know someone’s name. I’d asked him the name of the old driver too, the one we’d driven over the edge. Thomas told me it was Gilbert Dubuc. He also told me how Gilbert Dubuc had spent a couple of weeks in a convalescent home, but that he was back at work, driving another bus. “Not the 121 Express, of course. The supervisor doesn’t want him cracking up again. Anyway, it’s good news for us drivers,” Thomas had said. “Dubuc says by spring, he should be strong enough to get back to his work with the union. He’s quite a guy, that Dubuc.”
Old Quack Quack was back on the bus too. Only this time, he hadn’t come to scold us. No, today he was smiling like the Cheshire cat in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
He nodded at Georgie. “I hope you have your puffer,” he said. Mrs. Papadopoulos must have spoken to him too.
I didn’t think much of it when Old Quack Quack nodded at Pierre next. It was only when Valerie raised her eyebrows that I started wondering. Pierre wasn’t exactly a star pupil.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Valerie whispered.
“I guess it’s possible,” I told Valerie. “Maybe Pierre struck some kind of deal with Old Quack Quack. Like maybe Old Quack Quack didn’t phone home after Pierre blew Mr. Adams’s last math quiz.”
“We should tell the others,” Valerie said. “Remember how everyone was accusing everyone else? A lot of feelings got hurt.”
I decided not to tell her I’d thought she might have been the snitch.
Pierre had been the one to accuse me of being the snitch. Now I understood why.
“So let’s tell,” Valerie said.
“Nah,” I said. “All that’s behind us now.”
Old Quack Quack cleared his throat so loudly and for so long it sounded like he was gargling. “I want to say that I’m—er—” He stopped to flatten the knot on his tie. You could tell he was more used to scolding kids than saying anything nice. “I’m—er— proud of you people. I never thought I’d say it, but there you go. You people stayed calm in a difficult situation. And that calmness, that composure, probably saved this young man’s life. I also want to express my gratitude to your driver.” He turned to shake Thomas’s hand. “You did the right thing,” Old Quack Quack told him, “by getting Georgie straight to the hospital.”
And then, Old Quack Quack did something we never would have expected. He clapped—for us. And everyone on the bus started clapping too.
The clapping was followed by cheering. Then Old Quack Quack rushed off the bus.
“Calm and composed! That’s us, all right!” Jake shouted as Thomas turned onto Côte-Vertu Boulevard.
Everyone was talking and laughing all at the same time.
When we stopped at the first intersection, I almost didn’t notice the bus that had pulled up across from ours. But something—don’t ask me what—made me turn to look at it. I recognized the driver’s thin gray hair and the way he gripped the steering wheel. It was our old driver, Gilbert Dubuc.
At first, I was too startled to say anything. But Valerie noticed him too. “Hey, you guys!” she shouted, “look who’s driving that bus!”
In the old days, someone would have pushed open a window and yelled something rude—or maybe thrown something at him.
But this wasn’t the old days. I was the first to wave. Next thing I knew the other kids were waving too.
I thought I saw Gilbert Dubuc shudder. Was he remembering all the trouble we’d caused him?
But then he did something that took me by surprise. Something that made me wonder if he’d heard about how the kids on the 121 Express had helped save Georgie.
He waved back.