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You feel like a Science Experiment – the one that became something else in the Petri dish – the one they left outside too long.
It feels that way – You have the entire back of the bus to yourself – it’s like you farted and everybody noticed.
First daly – New school – you’re the only one wearing a sport coat and tie – you’re the only one who doesn’t know anybody else on the bus. They all know each other – they joke around – they laugh. They look at you – they stop – the girls eye you like impetigo. The guys eye you like bathtub ring.
You find a speck on the ceiling – you stare holes through it. It’s nothing but it’s keeping you from looking at them looking at you. The pit of your stomach is doing backflips – you would like to crawl under the seat.
Even the bus driver is suspicious – he eyes you from the rear view mirror. He’s going to have trouble with you – he knows it – he can feel it in his bloodstream – and you know he knows.
You smell smoke – faint scent of cigarette coming from the very back row. You’re not alone – hunched over figure, hiding and hacking, trying to stay out of sight. Surfaces long enough to glance at you and grin.
He motions if you want a drag – kindred spirit even if you don’t smoke – you’d love to but you can’t – don’t know how – you shoot him a nod, like it’s okay, but . . .
First day – new school – doing it all over again – new kid – all over again – making friends – all over again.
Fifth school this year – you wish your dad would get a normal job – like a bus driver or something where you stay put for more than fifteen minutes. You miss your old friends – all of them – even the ones you made three months ago who probably forgot your name already.
You always miss picture day – haven’t been in a yearbook since third grade – you’re the Great Missing Person – maybe if you learned to inhale you wouldn’t look so silly – like you were holding a stick of dynamite or your head was going to fall off – this’ll be the year you inhale – this’ll be the year you take Driver’s Ed.
Tenth grade is eternal. Awkward is forever. KFWB is saving your butt – the guy with the cigarette has a transistor radio.
You know you’re going to be friends for life.
Here’s over 90 minutes worth of KFWB from May 15, 1963 just to keep you company.
