I could feel tension rising. It emanated from all around me. Some, I could pinpoint on Ash, but there was a lot coming from behind us as well.
I hate being so sensitive to feelings. When I was little and I came home from school I could tell if my Mom and George had been fighting. I didn’t even have to see them. I would feel it as soon as I walked in the door. That’s why I read so much. It’s the only thing that makes me forget my surroundings.
I pull out a book and try to read. My eyes skim the same paragraph over and over. It’s no use. There is no room for me to go into and shut the door. No woods to walk in to forget it all. My innards are beginning to twist into knots from the tension.
Oh god I hope nothing happens like what did on the last bus.
I close my eyes and hold my hands to the sunshine. I don’t care if people think what I’m doing is odd. There is enough oddness on this bus to last me a life time. I am starting to cry again.