Secret of the School Suitor by Jessica Anderson, David Ouro

The Bus Mishap
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    The fog was thick enough that Divya’s socks felt damp and itchy against her ankle braces. She bent down to adjust her socks underneath the braces and watched as a whirl of orange-ish-yellow zoomed right past her. Oh no—that was her school bus! How could Bus Driver McCool miss picking her up?
    â€œWait!” Divya called and chased after Bus 72. Running wasn’t easy with her weak ankle joints but walking to school all the way down North Drew Lane and then across Centerville Highway to get to Watson Elementary School was next to impossible. Just as Divya started to plan what she would do instead of going to school, Bus 72 slammed to a stop.
    Bus Driver McCool extended the stop sign and then swerved the oversized school bus inreverse. Divya thought he was going to bump into the curb, but he stopped in time.
    â€œSorry!” he said as he cranked the doors open. He lowered his voice as he asked Divya, “You’re not going to tell Mrs. Holmes or Mr. Sleuth about this little mishap, are you?”
    Divya had been too shocked about Bus Driver McCool almost forgetting to pick her up and then driving so crazy that she hadn’t thought about telling Mrs. Holmes, the principal, or Mr. Sleuth, the school secretary.
    â€œI really am sorry,” Bus Driver McCool said. He sure did look upset the way his thick eyebrows frowned along with his whole thin face. In fact, the bus driver looked tired, and he reminded Divya of the way her father came home exhausted when he used to work at the hospital. Her dad still looked that way sometimes when he had to work overnight shifts at Centerville Nursing Home. Divya’s dad often took care of Bus Driver McCool’s mother there.
    This was the first time any sort of mishap of any kind had happened. Divya liked that Bus Driver McCool picked her up at a special stop over a block and a half from the real bus stop so she didn’t have to walk so far. He was always nice to everyone, even Klaude, who could be super annoying. Plus, Bus Driver McCool cranked out the best music on the radio. He knew how to carry a tune when he sang along with the songs.
    â€œIt’s okay,” Divya said. She was about to make her way down the bus aisle to sit next to her friend Javier, but she spied a small piece of paper near her foot.
    Divya picked up the paper and almost threw it in the garbage bin near the driver’s seat, then she saw it was a receipt.
    A florist receipt with the name Fenton McCool on it to be exact, she noticed. Divya handed it to the bus driver.
    â€œOh, thanks,” Bus Driver McCool said, shoving the receipt into the pocket of his faded jeans that had large rips in the knees.
Did he just turn red?
Divya thought to herself.
    Javier’s sketchbook sat on his lap when Divya took her spot next to him—only he wasn’t drawing dragons or space cats like he usually does. He stretched his neck from side to sideand gave it a quick rub.

    â€œYou okay?” Divya asked.
    â€œI never knew a bus could stop that fast,” Javier said. “I heard Bus Driver McCool used to be a race car driver but I never believed it until now.”
    â€œI heard he ran over some kid’s bike at his old driving job and then got fired,” Klaude said.
    Divya shot Klaude her most stern look for listening in on her private conversation with Javier. It was nowhere near as stern as the lookMrs. Holmes gave to the students at Watson Elementary when they were out of line, but Divya was practicing. The look must’ve worked because Klaude went back to fiddling with what looked like a wooden musical instrument.
    â€œWell I heard Bus Driver McCool applied for a job as a security officer where my mom works,” a girl named Queeneka whispered to her group of friends. “He could use some extra money to buy himself some nicer clothes. That’s the second time he wore that bright green shirt this week.” Queeneka was really into