I was driving home when I saw a little girl on a school bus, terrified, banging on the back window. My world stopped. Something was terribly wrong. But what danger could a little girl be in on a seemingly safe school bus? I chased the bus to find out, only to watch my heart skip a beat. Rain pounded on the windshield as I drove home, each drop echoing the weight in my heart. Today was supposed to be the worst day of my life. First, my fiancé had called off our wedding last week, and now, I had just lost my job. My mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions… “Calm down, Mollie,” I whispered to myself, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. “There has to be another way. When one door closes, another opens, right?” But the words rang hollow. How could I go home and tell Mom I got fired? She would worry like hell. Ever since Dad died, she’s been my rock, and the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint her. My phone vibrated for the fifth time.
Mom again. I pulled over to the curb and answered. “Yes, Mom, I’ll be there in ten minutes. I’m driving—” “Mollie, honey, have you seen the weather forecast? There’s a big storm coming. Please be careful.” I swallowed hard. This storm was nothing compared to the one brewing inside me. “Yes, yes, don’t worry. I’ll be there soon.” “Are you okay? Talk.” “I’m fine, Mom. I’m just… tired. I have to drive, okay? I love you,” I hung up, my throat tight. How could I tell her I lost my job just because I talked to my superiors? They’d used the excuse of “not meeting quarterly goals,” but I knew the real reason. “What’s the worst that could happen now?” I muttered, starting the car again. I didn’t know I was about to find out. As I pulled back into traffic, a yellow school bus roared past me. Something caught my eye in the back window: a little girl, her face pressed against the glass, her tiny fists pounding frantically. She was crying for help. “What the hell…? Oh my God… is she okay?” I gasped. Without thinking, I started the engine, racing after the school bus. The little girl was clearly in distress, but why? What kind of danger could she be in on a seemingly safe school bus? “I’m coming, hold on, honey,” I muttered, honking the horn repeatedly. The driver seemed oblivious, continuing down the road as if nothing was wrong. Panic rising in my chest, I made a split-second decision. I swerved and cut across the road, forcing him to stop in the middle of the busy road. The driver, a large man with a bushy black mustache, got out angrily. “What kind of stunt are you pulling, ma’am?”
You could have caused an accident.” I ignored him, walking past and hurrying to get into the bus. The noise hit me like a wall. The children gathered around the girl, shouting and laughing. I ran to the back where the little girl was sitting alone, her face now red and streaked with tears. When I reached him, I froze. This was not at all what I expected. “Oh my God! Are you having an asthma attack?’ The little girl nodded frantically, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. I knelt down next to his seat, my heart pounding. What is your name, dear? I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. He showed the identification card hanging around his neck. Her name was Chelsea. “Okay, Chelsea, we’re going to ask you for help.
Where’s your inhaler? Chelsea shook her head, unable to speak. I looked up and saw the driver following me with a pale face. “Do you know where his inhaler is?” He shook his head. “I… I didn’t even know he had trouble. It’s so noisy in here, I didn’t hear anything.” I bit back an angry reply and started looking for Chelsea’s backpack. Nothing. Panic shot through me as I saw the little girl’s lips turn blue. Help me look. I shouted at the driver. We looked under the seats, in the aisle, everywhere we could think of. To my horror, I realized the other kids were laughing, some even pointing at Chelsea. “This isn’t funny.” I tripped over them. “He needs help.” That’s when it hit me. I started grabbing all their backpacks, ignoring their protests. “Hey, you can’t do that!” shouted a freckled boy. I found it in the third bag I checked, a blue inhaler with Chelsea’s name on it. I rounded on the guy who owned the backpack. “Why do you have this?” He looked away muttering. “It was just a joke.” “A joke? He could die. I rushed back to Chelsea to help her use the inhaler. Gradually his breathing steadied and color returned to his face. I held her hand, murmuring soothing words as she recovered. The driver stood there wringing his hands. “I am very sorry. I had no idea…, I turned to him, my anger flaring up. “These children are your responsibility. You should have checked what was going on when you heard a commotion. He nodded with an embarrassed look on his face. “You are right. I’m sorry.” Chelsea tugged on my arm, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”
Those two words hit me harder than anything else that had happened that day. I couldn’t leave her alone after this. “I’ll stay with you until we get you home, okay?” Chelsea nodded, a small smile on her teary face. I turned to the driver’s side. “I’m going to move my car and sit with him. Is it good? He nodded quickly. “Of course. It’s the least we can do after… well, anything.” As I got off the bus to move my car to a nearby parking lot, I realized my hands were shaking. What a day it turned out to be! Back on the bus, I sat next to Chelsea, a comforting hand on her shoulders. The other children were unusually quiet now, the gravity of what had happened finally sinking in. “Why didn’t the other kids help you?” I asked gently. Chelsea’s bottom lip quivered. “They think it’s funny when I can’t breathe. They hide my inhaler sometimes.” My heart broke for him. “It’s not good, Chelsea.” You know that, right?” He nodded, looking down at his hands. “I try to be brave, but sometimes I’m so scared.” I squeezed his shoulder. “You were incredibly brave today. You got my attention when you needed help. It takes a lot of courage.” A small smile played on his lips. “Really?” “Indeed. You are one of the bravest people I have ever met.” Two stops later, Chelsea showed the window. “That’s my mom and dad.” As we got off the bus, Chelsea’s parents rushed over, confusion etched on their faces. “Chelsea, who is this?” asked his mother, looking at me warily. Chelsea’s voice was louder now as she said. “This is Molly. He saved my life.” After Chelsea explained what happened, her parents’ expressions went from confusion to gratitude to anger at the bus driver, the other kids, and the whole situation.” I don’t know how to thank you,” Chelsea’s father said through tears. up. “I’m just glad I was there to help.” Chelsea’s mother, Mrs. Stewart, insisted on taking me back to my car. As we pulled into the mall parking lot, the skies opened up, rain coming down in sheets. “So, Molly,” said Mrs. Stewart, peering at me through the rain-streaked windshield, “what are you doing?” I laughed bitterly. “It’s funny, you have to ask. Today I actually lost my job.” Mrs. Stewart’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. May I ask what happened?” I sighed, the events of the day washing over me again. “I talked about some unethical things. They didn’t like that, so they found an excuse to let me go.” Stewart was silent for a moment. Then he said: “You know, my husband and I run a small business. We may have an opening. Would you be interested in coming for an interview?’ I blinked, not sure I heard him correctly. “Are you serious?” he smiled. “Absolutely. Anyone who would go out of their way to help a child in need is someone I would love to have on my team.”
By the time we got to my car, the rain had slowed to a downpour. Mrs. Stewart handed me her business card. “Call me tomorrow,” she said. “We will do something.” I pressed the card, a spark of hope lit up in my chest. “Thank you. I will.” The next morning I woke up feeling lighter than I had in weeks. I told mom everything that happened. About losing my job, saving Chelsea, a possible new opportunity… everything. He hugged me tightly, pride shining in his eyes. “I always knew you were meant for great things my love.” Now, as I dialed Mrs. Stewart’s card number, my heart was racing again, but this time with excitement rather than fear. Hello, Molly, – Mrs. Stuart’s warm voice was heard on the phone. “I’m so glad you called. How would you feel about coming in for an interview this afternoon?’ I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “I would like to. Thank you very much for this opportunity.” “No, Molly,” he said, and I could practically hear the smile in his voice. “Thank you. You saved our daughter. It’s the least we can do.” As I hung up the phone, I felt tears welling up in my eyes. But for the first time in a long time, they were tears of joy, not sorrow.
