Bluey: Bus

1

Margot was so nervous as she waited for the bus to arrive. She fiddled with her maroon hat. It had been a gift from her grandmother, whom she had loved very much. She’d loved both of her grandmothers actually, though they were quite different from each other.

One was a straight-talking, no-nonsense lady from the bush. She would have given Margot a stern talking-to: “Margot, you like this bus driver fellow! Goodness knows why—he has so much hair on his legs you could use it to crochet a rug! But enough of this hiding-at-the-back-of-the-bus business. Tell him how you feel.”

Margot’s other grandmother was much more softly spoken. She would have gently whispered, “You tell him when you’re ready, honey.”

For weeks now, Margot had caught the number thirty-two bus to her job at the museum (even though the thirty-two was not the best bus to catch to the museum) because she had a secret crush on the bus driver. And for weeks, she’d hidden at the back of it, too shy to make anything other than nervous chitchat with him.

She promised herself that today was the day she would tell him how she felt. Yet she knew that as soon as she got on the bus, beeped her ticket, and gazed into his deep eyes, she would get scared and run for the back, telling herself: “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Margot put everything off till tomorrow. Her tomorrow was about as busy as a day can get. Much busier than her yesterday. In fact, her yesterdays were getting pretty empty indeed.

As she waited for the bus, she wondered what happens if your tomorrow gets too full and your yesterday gets too empty? Was it like a seesaw with an elephant on one side and a mouse on the other? Both just stuck.

The deep rumbling sound of the bus arriving startled Margot back to today.

2

“Bus stopping!” yelled the bus driver over the screeching heavy hydraulic brakes. “Doors opening!”

With a hiss and a clatter, the bus doors opened. Margot’s eyes met the bus driver’s. This was the best and worst part of her day.

“Museum, please,” she mumbled, beeping her ticket and scurrying up the aisle.

As she took her seat at the back of the bus, she whispered wistfully to herself, “I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

The bus driver shrugged, confused by the lady’s strange behavior.

“Doors closing!” he declared as he pulled away again, singing “The Wheels on the Bus.”

Margot loved his singing.

“Not much traffic this morning!” he shouted to her. “So, we should be there very soon. Unless something slows us down, of course, but that won’t happen.”

He was right, Margot thought, nothing will happen today. She will go to work and return home without her beloved bus driver, as always. Today would turn into another empty yesterday, but she knew there was always tomorrow. The thought made her a bit sad.

But something would happen today.

“Bus stopping!” yelled the driver.

The bus pulled up.

“Doors. Oh no,” groaned the driver as he saw who was shuffling into view. “Here come the grannies!”