A Slice of Life by James Holland

The weekend had been so amazing. I had buried a car in snow, almost gotten a concussion sledding, hit a staff member with freezing water balloons, and met some new friends. We were leaving on the bus to Ipswich and my stop, Hingham. I walked up these stairs. I had said good-bye to my new friends, and threw my green duffel bag and green sleeping bag into the large bottom space in the bus. The man who observed the bus and made sure we paid to go, and walked to the back of the bus with the other people. I sat by myself in a row with two girls behind me who were making up stories about being related to rappers and Miley Cyrus. Then, a girl I knew came up, and sat down in their row. Finally, a friend to help me get these girls to just be quiet.

“Hey,” I say to her.

She replies, “what, do you not believe she is related to T-Pain.”

“No,” I said.

“Well we saw him and met him backstage for her birthday” she replied with a subtle wink

I had to change the topic and saw my chance, “MUSTANG! SWAGGER WAGON!” Some words of assent, and my chance to move.

I had averted disaster in the back of the bus, and the Mustang was ahead of the navy blue bus. Now we were bored, so we broke out into song.

“Ah-like 8ft. 4 blond hair to the floor . . .” one girl started singing. Then someone belted,

“Build me up (build me up) buttercup baby . . .” that did it, we erupted into song. After we sung that song from beginning to end, the bus driver turned on the radio, and the Weird Al parody of the song American Pie, and at every refrain, we sung out “Bah, Bah Mrs. American pah, drove da Chevy to the levy but the levy was Drah. . .” one boy was pleading us to even hear the different version, but 20 plus screaming teenagers (mostly girls) is no match for one boy. We pulled into the Notre Dame parking lot, and a scary sight filled my mortified eyes, we were home.