It was a wet, slippery and soggy morning, as my dad and I were waiting at the school bus stop sign for the first time in my, which was only eight years. He had one hand on my trembling shoulder and the other was holding up the umbrella. I felt like I was closed bottle with fifty Mexican jumping beans inside. I felt like I was going explode at any minute. Suddenly, I heard the distant puttering of a bus. I looked up at my dad and then back at road where the vehicle was approaching. .
As the driver pressed on the brakes, I could hear the grinding and squeaking sound of the brakes, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. I cringed like a cat that had been startled by an unfamiliar noise and jumped back into the shadows of protection of my dad and the umbrella. The doors opened with a heavy sigh like that of prison doors opening. At the top of four very petite size steps was an oversized seat; which was covered in brown, cheap leather that had been torn and stretched out in many places, which was probably due to the gigantic size of the driver.
I was taken back by the driver's size and ugliness. He reminded me of an oversized warty toad. I looked at my dad with one eyebrow raised and one of the most pitiful looks in my eyes. Before I could say anything, he slowly began to push me; it was easy for him because of my miniature size and the fact that the ground was slick with rain. "Have a nice day, Linda." My dad said to me. I didn't answer him. I was flabbergasted at the site of the toad behind the wheel. The driver looked back at me with his massive arms folded across his barreling stomach, "Are ya gettin" on or what?" he asked me, his voice booming through my head like thunder. I gingerly started to walk up to the bus. As I did, my Gi-Joe lunch box hit my knees. I reached the doorway of the bus, switched my lunch box to the other hand, and reached out to grab the rail. When I touched the rail, the cold, wet, and slimly texture reminded me of a snake's skin.