Zoe's POV
The car slowed to a grinding halt, Margaret's steady hands bringing it to a stop right in front of the school. I leaned toward the window, my forehead nearly touching the cool glass. I stared out at the yellow school bus parked further down the lot. It looked longer than it had yesterday, brighter, almost intimidating in the soft morning light. Students streamed toward it in clusters—some laughing, some dragging their feet—while Mr. Huffman stood tall at the entrance, clipboard in one hand, his baritone voice carrying over the noise like the bell of command.
"Alright, move along—no dawdling, people! Step lively, you don't want to miss the ride to your big day!" he barked, though the sharpness was softened by a barely-there smile tugging at his lips. His polished shoes gleamed against the pavement, and his tie fluttered in the morning breeze. He tapped his clipboard every now and then as though the sound itself could push students forward.
