I was driving home, feeling the weight of recent setbacks—the end of my engagement and losing my job—when I saw a young girl on a school bus, banging on the window in panic. My heart raced. What could be so wrong on a school bus? I decided to follow and find out, and little did I know, it would lead to one of the most intense moments of my life.
Rain pounded my windshield as I drove, reflecting the turmoil inside me. “Stay calm, Mollie,” I whispered, trying to reassure myself amidst the chaos. But inside, I was a mess. How would I tell Mom about losing my job? Her calls only added to my stress, worried about a storm that seemed small compared to the one in my life.
Just as I merged back into traffic, a school bus sped past. A girl in the back window caught my eye, pounding frantically. My gut twisted. Why was she so terrified?
“Oh God, what’s happening?” I muttered, speeding up to follow the bus. The driver seemed oblivious, continuing on his route as if nothing was wrong. I honked, trying to get his attention, but it was no use. I made a split-second decision and pulled in front of the bus, forcing it to stop.
The driver stormed out, furious. “What’s your problem? You almost caused an accident!”
Ignoring his anger, I hurried onto the bus. Inside, kids’ voices filled the air, chaotic and loud. I rushed to the back where the girl, Chelsea, sat alone, tears streaming down her face, struggling to breathe.
“Are you having an asthma attack?” I asked urgently. Chelsea nodded, gasping for air.
“What’s your name?” I asked, looking for her inhaler. She pointed to her ID badge. “Chelsea.”
“Chelsea, we’ll get you help. Where’s your inhaler?” I asked the driver, who had followed me onto the bus.
“I didn’t know she was in trouble. It’s so noisy back here,” he admitted, looking alarmed.
Ignoring my frustration, I searched through Chelsea’s backpack frantically. No inhaler. Panic rose as her lips turned blue.
“Help me search!” I ordered the driver. We rummaged through bags, the kids watching, some laughing.
“Stop it! She needs help!” I shouted, grabbing bags, desperate. Finally, in a third bag, I found Chelsea’s inhaler. I turned to the boy who had it. “Why do you have this?”
He mumbled, “It was a joke…”
“A joke? She could’ve died!” I yelled, racing back to Chelsea, giving her the inhaler. Slowly, her breathing calmed, color returning. Tears filled my eyes as I held her hand, comforting her.
“I’m so sorry,” the driver stuttered. “I didn’t realize…”
“You’re responsible for these kids,” I said sharply. “You have to pay attention!”
Chelsea squeezed my hand weakly. “Thank you…”
Those two words broke through my fear. I stayed with her until her stop, promising to stay close.
Her parents were waiting anxiously. Grateful tears flowed when they heard what happened. Her mom insisted on driving me back.
During the ride, she asked about my job. When I explained, she offered me an interview at her family’s business.
The next day, I called, setting up the meeting. Hope blossomed. That stormy day turned disaster into a chance to start anew.
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