I nodded and quietly returned to my seat, though my heart was anything but calm.
He might have sounded confident, but as the bus merged onto the highway, everyone fell silent.
A heavy tension filled the air.
Somewhere in the distance, faint sounds of rockslides echoed down from the mountain.
All eyes were locked on the road ahead.
The driver slowed the bus as we approached the stretch my mother had warned about.
Then—boom—a thunderous crash.
A large rock came tumbling down the slope.
The driver slammed the brakes. The bus screeched to a halt—barely stopping in time, just inches from the boulder.
Still visibly shaken, the driver wiped sweat from his brow, shot me a quick look, then climbed down to check the road.
He moved the rock himself and got back on board.
The tension in the bus had doubled.
No one said a word, but the fear lingered in every breath.
Luckily, the rest of the highway passed without further incident.
I exhaled in relief and finally remembered to check my backpack.
As I rummaged through it, I realized something horrible—I had forgotten to bring a pen.
Clutching my bag, I walked back up to the driver.
“Sir,” I said timidly, “I forgot my pen. When we reach town… could we stop somewhere so I can buy one?”
He frowned, clearly displeased.
“Why are you so careless? Everyone else comes prepared. You, on the other hand, keep forgetting things.”
I dropped my head, lips trembling, on the verge of tears.
The driver sighed.
“Alright, alright. I’ll take you to buy them when we get there. But next time, make sure you’re prepared. If you forget anything else, I’m not helping you again. Got it?”
“Yes,” I whispered and returned to my seat.
The bus later stopped in front of a small roadside store, and the driver led me inside.
As I browsed the pens, I didn’t expect to see him.
Peter Sebastian—the class monitor—walked in.
Surprise flickered across his face the moment he saw me.
“Camila? What are you doing here?”
Caught off guard, I quickly hid the two dollars in my hand and walked up to him, embarrassed.
“I forgot my pen… Peter, could you lend me some money?”
Peter was known in our class as the “little rich guy.” He was smart, polite, and completely doted on by his family. His parents gave him more pocket money than he could ever spend.
His ears turned red as he quickly dug through his backpack for money.
After fumbling around for a moment, he pulled out a red bill and handed it to me.