I finally started walking to the nearest bus stop, which was kind of a distance away, but if I just kept walking, I should be there in time for the bus. Maybe a few minutes before the bus. I start looking in my pockets to see if I have a quarter or two. Crap. I don’t. Ugh, how far away is my house from the police station? My mom is at work and I don’t have anyone else to pick me up. I start pulling my phone out from my jacket pocket so I can see how far the police station is from my house.

As I started to put in the address of the police station and the address of my house, someone texted me. It’s from the school spam group.

At the beginning of the year, the school thought it was a good idea to have everyone’s phone number so it’s easier to spread news and get information for upcoming tests, events, and more. In my opinion, it was completely pointless. Just send spam emails.

The first thing I read was his name. Noah Jones. That horrible guy. He ruined me and Camellia’s friendship. What did he have to say now? I pressed on the text notification that had popped up on the top of my screen and it changed the tabs from Maps to Messages.

“As u guys all know my gf Camellia Hills died this past week Im holding a party in favor of her

Its on Friday and starts at 6:00pm and ends whenever u leave”

What the hell? He’s throwing a damn party in the name of Camellia? No, he cannot be doing this. He’s just using her name as an excuse to throw a party at the worst possible time ever. I can’t let this slide. No way in hell will this ever be okay.

I start typing, in response to his text. “Thats one of the worst excuses to throw a party at one of the worst times. All u guys will do is js drink and not even have ONE singular thing abt ur “gf” Grow tf up.”

I start thinking about whether I should send that. Maybe others will say it for me. My reputation is already low enough, it’ll probably go down even more if I send that text. Actually, no. You know what? Who cares? My best friend is dead and we stopped talking because of him. No way am I going to allow the person who ruined our friendship go do whatever he wants under her name.

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After a few seconds of holding my thumb over the send message button, I finally sent it. I don’t care if the entire school will hate me even more or start some riot against me for speaking up to him, he’s using her name to do whatever he wants and that’s just messed up. I knew he never cared about her. I knew it deep in my guts. I hate him. With a burning passion.

After I sent the message, I switched back onto Maps to finish putting in my home address. So far, it doesn’t seem bad. 10-minute drive, hopefully walking won’t be longer. I can’t afford a car and neither can my mom. She’s already working 2 jobs and we only have enough for one car. A rustic, or as she likes to call it, authentic, dark, red truck that looks like it’s been through WW1.

Holy… it’ll take me a full hour to walk from the police station to my house. No way am I doing that. I start rummaging through my jacket pocket again and start shaking it like crazy, begging that I have a quarter. I know for a fact I brought two. One for my way here, one for my way back home. W— what? W— where is it? I know I KNOW, I have it. I have to have it. I- I just have to have it. I know I did.

I hear a ding that came from my phone but I don’t even care. It’s probably Noah or anyone attacking me for being right. I put my hand in the inside pocket of my gray jacket and I start feeling a sense of relief as I feel the anxiety leaving my body. I found it. I found that damn quarter. I look up and I see that the bus is here, so I start running so I don’t miss it. I start, dramatically, waving my hands so the bus driver, who’s probably a 60-year-old man or woman, so they don’t miss me.

I got lucky. The bus driver saw me and stopped driving before they left the bus stop. I continue running until I get to the bus. It’s a bit smaller than usual. It has its orange and black stripes with hints of yellow in between them. Interesting color scheme, I suppose. Stands out.

I got on the bus, and walked up the small stairs, extremely out of breath because I ran for my life to get on there. I said hi to the bus driver and once I made eye contact, I knew I was correct. It was a man in his mid-60s, whatever. Not important. I put my quarter in the little coin dispenser, walked onto the bus, and chose a window seat so I could just put on my headphones and look out the window.

Hah, it’s cloudy, yet the clouds seem super white. That was Camellia’s favorite type of weather to see. To her, it seemed funny.

She would always say, “Hey! Oh my gosh!! The white clouds are making the world seem gray! Is it because they’re undercover dark clouds and they don’t want to reveal themselves? Haha!”

Sometimes I really couldn’t tell if she did mean what she said half of the time but she still made me laugh. She was such a joyous person. Why would she ever do this to herself? She told me everything, or I thought so.