Alibi Junior High Read Online Free Page A

didn’t say ‘Hi’ in return, so I’m taking my ‘Hi’ back.”
    “Okay, you want a ‘Hi’?… Hi …. Are you happy now? What a twisted psycho. Just leave me alone…loser.”
    She cups her hand over her phone, walks farther away, and starts talking about me in a hushed voice. Each word that I overhear somehow makes me feel like I’m evaporating bit by bit.
    Another girl, with short red hair, joins us at the bus stop. She has her iPod ear buds firmly in place and I can hear the faint sound of music pumping into her head. She bobs slightly from side to side and stares straight ahead. I don’t bother saying hello.
    “Hey, Cody.”
    I turn around and see Albert walking toward me. “Hi, Albert.”
    He stands next to me. “First day, huh?”
    “Yes.”
    “Nervous?”
    “No.”
    The bus turns the corner and starts bouncing toward us. Albert looks at me strangely.
    “What are you wearing?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You’re wearing that to school?”
    I look at my clothes. “What’s wrong with them?”
    “Everything. The shorts are way too short, your socks waytoo long, and nobody tucks in their T-shirt. You’re dressed like somebody’s dad.”
    “Really? Somebody’s dad? Um, how about the backpack?”
    He gives it a quick look then just shakes his head.
    The bus stops next to me, its doors swing open. The driver is a large woman wearing an old Yankees cap. Perfect. Almost every seat is occupied; the bus is loud and buzzing with energy. I slowly walk up the rubber-coated steps, and for the first time it sinks in that I’m really entering a new and foreign land.
    A land I know nothing about.

SMALL SLIVER OF SEAT
     
    I’ve been on lots of buses all over the world. City buses, country buses, new buses, buses so old you’re sure they’re not safe. I’ve ridden on buses full of rich businessmen and buses full of people so poor you can almost feel their hunger.
    One time I rode for hours on a long, winding dirt road through the mountains—one wrong move on the driver’s part and we would have tumbled hundreds of feet to our deaths.
    All those experiences should have been enough to prepare me for this moment, but right now I feel more uncomfortable than I’ve ever felt on a bus, any bus, anywhere. I’ll take that terrifying ride through the mountains over this anytime.
    A school bus lives in its own special time zone, a time zone unlike any other. It’s a place where time doesn’t exactly stop; itjust slowly decays like a dead deer left by the side of the road.
    When I first walked up the stairs of the bus everyone stared at me. Except the few people with open seats—they just gazed straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. I could feel them willing me not to sit with them, sending out strong vibes for me to keep moving along.
    It looked like there was an open seat at the back of the bus but when I got there the whole seat was missing. I turned around to look for another and realized they were by then all occupied. I just stood there, feeling like the loser in a kids’ game of musical chairs.
    Normally if a bus is full you get off and wait for the next one. I don’t think that’s going to work here. School buses seem a lot like quicksand, easy to walk into, not so easy to get out of.
    The bus driver barks, “You gotta sit down!”
    I can see her in the rearview mirror, staring at me from under her Yankees cap. She’s really mad but I’m not sure why. It’s not my fault the bus is full.
    Everyone turns around and looks at me.
    “You have to sit down! I can’t drive the bus until you sit down.”
    Some guy in the front yells, “Don’t sit down—I’ve got a first period history test!”
    Everyone starts to laugh. I know they’re laughing at the joke but it somehow feels like they’re laughing at me. Maybe they are.
    “Will you please sit down!”
    I look around the bus wondering where she expects me to sit. I shout, “There’s no place to sit!”
    She turns around, clearly getting more