She sat on the immobile hull of the bus, looking at the vast flatness beyond. The nothingness that was briefly interrupted by a line of bare trees or a row of tall powerlines. The Mississippi Delta is a barren stretch of dirt this time of year, made more apparent by the naked trees showing through. Showing the nothingness behind and beyond to the horizon. 

She smiled grimly, thinking it’s like the ocean… if the ocean were dirt and had islands of trees dotting it.
“The closest I’ll ever be to the ocean anyway”, she thought. 

Only being 17 it seemed odd for her to feel such finality to her blossoming future. So much ahead of her they might say. Such a bright future…

But she didn’t feel like there was much ahead of her that’d be bright. She felt her future looked more like this rusted heap she sat on. The inexplicable school bus. One of the many piles of dangerous, sharp, rusty junk her dad had accumulated on their 10 acre lot, for reasons unknown. 

The bus had been there since time remembered. She would climb up it as a child too… using the missing window hole as a foothold and pulling herself to the top. She’d stare out at the nothing then too. The changing seas of crops - rice, corn, cotton, soy. 

The bus had become her vantage point of the world. And as she reflected on her life she realized her vantage point had become a metaphor for her life. 

The bus had always been missing wheels and undercarriage. If one were so inclined they could climb underneath the wheel hull and stand up inside the bus, where seats and floor should be. Instead the hollow was filled with weeds and wasp nests. The grass and brambles wrapped themselves tighter to the bus every year. Snaking out through rust holes and broken windows. Tying it down. A bus with nowhere to go. No way to go. 

Stuck. Trapped. What’s the difference? 

Tears came to her eyes as she recognized her role in this life…how her lack of choosing for herself got her here.
“I don’t know if we should… I’m not ready.”
“Yes you are. And I’m ready.
I love you. “

No is what she really thought, deep inside where she couldn’t hear herself. Too worried about Joey. What he wanted. What he thought of her. Shouldn’t she be flattered? Shouldn’t she be happy? He even told her he loved her… even though the falseness of the words hung dank like stale cigarette smoke in the backseat. Even though she knew better. 

The expectations were there. And she didn’t want to disappoint. 

It was quick thankfully. She felt cold on the cracked leather seats… the cracks that pinched her bare skin as he loomed over her, hungry. Expecting. The cold cracks were even more hateful as he quickened. Pinching her back. Mocking her pain. 

“So this is what it’s like”, she thought as she tried to distance herself from the sensation of being split in two from down below. And who knows? Maybe she was split in two. Who can say what toll your soul takes when you violate yourself. When you allow the violation to happen. When you say yes when all you want to do is scream, cry, run. When you justify it to yourself and say this is just growing up. It’s what you do when you’re older. 

It was what you need to learn to expect. 

You also have to expect popular boys like Joey are busy. They’ve got practice and games. Unlike her, who was not an athlete or cheerleader — mostly because her home life was too strained and stretched to be active or consistent in anything. She had to be understanding of Joey’s lack of time. And she couldn’t tell Joey that it was hurting her so bad. That some new part or wound in herself now screamed for him in a new and horrid way. That every night he didn’t call she cried herself to sleep, pathetic as she knew she was. She made excuses for his absence at school. Sure, it’s a small town school and everybody sees everybody 5 days a week. But Joey had things going on… study hall, library, a team pep rally, a school assignment he had to get in the next day, a girl who was helping him get those grades up. So important for an athlete like him. They kick you off if you get a C. 

And Joey’s such a good player, she thought bitterly.
Excuses, excuses. 

She didn’t say anything to Joey, until not talking became a realization of the role she had fulfilled. Denial was no longer possible. As she saw him and Amy Goodard driving off, her sitting on the angry cracked seats of his Bronco, she knew. 

She was a fool. 

Now she was a fool made bigger by the growing potential in her womb. Even being the Christian girl she was, she thought about taking the easy way. No one would have to know. The kids at school wouldn’t whisper as her and her growing secret grew too obvious. She could graduate in peace. Maybe go to that community college the next town over. Maybe get a job where she’d leave this vast nothing forever. 

But a case of conscience broke down that path in one word - child. It was not an it. It was a child. And she couldn’t bring herself to do it, no matter the toll it’d cost. 

And it would cost a lot. 

She climbed on top of the bus that day to say goodbye to her meager dreams of leaving this town. She said goodbye to ending her high school career with endearing and treasured memories. Goodbye to senior prom and probably pictures too. Who wants senior pics with an 8 month pregnant belly? Who wants to dance with the pregnant girl?

Goodbye to her idea of a boyfriend and what that could mean for her.

She had a feeling expecting disappointment from men was the only real lesson of life Joey would contribute to her. He had a scholarship to MSU. He and his family had plans…

And now she had to make her own. 

She wondered if she would love it when it came? If her resentment, a small seed now, would grow over time. As it twisted and anchored her to this place… the child. The responsibility of a child. Not having help or an education or time to make her life better. Would she resent the child? Love it unconditionally as they say you do?
             
One thing was certain in all this uncertainty. She had no idea what to expect.