I always rode the big yellow bus to and from school. My school was for the country kids and people living on the edge of town; the south side of town to be precise. Most days our bus driver Mr. Smith drove our bus without saying a word. He had a half grin permanently fixed on his red freckled face and his red hair was always tucked neatly under his baseball cap. His familiar face was comforting at the start of every year when you had that funny feeling in your stomach. That feeling that makes your heart pound in your ears.
The big yellow bus came up the road and crossed the bridge tickling the willow tree’s leaves on its way. I swung around the light pole next to my driveway one last time before he pulled back that big handle and smacked the doors open . I smiled back at him as I pounded my feet up the steps. I always liked everyone to know I was coming.
All kinds of people rode my bus. Only sometimes did we see a new face. Most times it was just us year after year. The boy who got on after me was new. He sure had the biggest ears I had ever seen. I wondered what it would be like to have such big ears. He sat down beside me. I looked at his face to see what someone looks like who has big ears. He seemed like everyone else but my sixth sense told me he was sad so I smiled at him. The bus started and stopped so many times I thought we’d never get to school but in the end we did.
It was the ride home that changed my life. I had a sixth sense but not the kind that allowed you to see strange things. No, my sense had something to do with my feelings. My mom said that my sixth sense was in good shape. She said other people had the same sixth sense but they squashed it. Like stepping on it with their shoes until it was dead then they would forget they ever had it. It allowed them to do things they normally wouldn’t but she said it was better that I had left mine all alone just to be natural. I never really cared if I fit in.
The new boy took his seat in front of me. I wondered again what it would be like to have… My thoughts were interrupted by words that went flying through the bus. It took a lot of force to bring your words above everyone elses. The level of noise on my bus surely reached close to an airplane taking off; that level that damages your ears like the rock n roll music my mom and dad hated so much. But those words were sharp and they shot through the air like an arrow which pierced through everyone elses words gathering them at the point and smashing them against the wall of the bus with a bang. It caught everyone’s attention. “Elephant ears!” I looked around to see who’d thrown that arrow but I couldn’t tell. Then more came “Elephant ears!” The bus became silent. The boy with the big ears looked behind him. I saw his face. I saw his pain and my stomach felt it. My sixth sense came up and nearly made me vomit.
“Elephant ears!. Elephant ears!” the bus began to rock and sway with each rhythmic chant. Every conversation on the bus was replaced by that chant and every kid squashed their six sense under their shoes just like Mom said they’d do. I left mine natural and I stayed silent not knowing what to do. I watched that new boy’s head sink. I think it wasn’t the first time he had been struck by arrows like that. He never replied. His stop came and relieved him of the violence of those words which had pierced him everywhere hardly sparing a patch. I watched him walk to his house with his shoulders all slumpy and pain dripping off his back as if he had just been mauled by a pack of dogs. I pressed my nose to the window and watched him until he disappeared behind his front door. My tears ran down the glass. That is usually how my sixth sense finally released itself from my body. It was so intense this time that my shoulders shook and my chest heaved.
The bus stopped just a few meters down the road. For the first time in my life I saw Mr. Smith get out of his chair and stand up. His half smile had disappeared. His freckles were almost hidden as his face was so red they couldn’t stand out anymore. He started up the aisle and gave a look that cut everyone clean through just like a hot knife through butter.
“In all my life as a bus driver I have never seen such poor behavior. How could you all make fun of that boy like that. I am so disappointed. Disappointed in all of ya. Don’t you ever do that on my bus again or so help me God I will kick you all off and drive away.” said Mr. Smith as he took his seat and slammed the stick shift and ground the gears. We bolted down the street once more in a silence that left your ears numb.
That was the day I knew Mr. Smith had the sixth sense too. He hadn’t squashed his and it was still all natural just like mine. His came out red all over his face though and made him speak when he otherwise wouldn’t. I never saw that new boy again. I can’t blame him. We knew how he felt, Mr. Smith and me, and it was painful. Painful for sure.
Musings of a Muslimah 