The Wrong Bus (4 page)
Jack stepped closer.
The white writing on the shiny black stone said:
Neil (Noddy) Deacon 1953â2011
Beloved husband of Selena and father of Jeannie
Beloved grandfather of Jack Finch
“That's you,” said Jack. It didn't seem strange to be looking at his grandfather's headstone while he held his hand.
“So it is,” said Grandpa.
They sat on the grass and looked at the headstone. Grandpa put his arm around Jack. Jack leaned against him. His grandfather felt as soft as a pillow and as cool as the breeze curling around Jack's head.
Together they listened to the birds in the tree above their heads. They watched the city traffic far below. The cars and buses looked as small as toys.
“I miss you,” Jack said. How could he tell his grandfather he still felt all the missing he knew he would feel later?
“Of course you do,” said Grandpa. “But just think of it. I get to spend my days close to Selena again. In a peaceful place. Me singing to the birds and the birds singing to me.” He got up. Jack stood up too. “Now you know there's a quiet place you can come visit me anytime. That suit you, Tootsie Roll?”
“Mom said eight-year-olds are too young for hospitals, funeral homes and cemeteries.”
“So I hear,” said Grandpa. “But perhaps you can change her mind.”
They stood together looking down at the graves. Then they walked back down the slope to the wrong bus.
“Besides,” said Grandpa, “you're nine soon. Your birthday is just around the corner, if I recall.”
In all the sadness and worry of Grandpa getting sick and then dying, Jack had forgotten all about his own birthday.
Thinking about it now, a bubble of happiness started to grow in his chest. He felt it melt the lump that had been there for days while his mother was visiting his grandfather in hospital. The lump had got bigger as she made plans at the funeral home. It had grown as hard as a stone when she left him home alone while she watched them bury his grandpa in the shiny brown coffin.
“My birthday is in two weeks,” Jack said. He should start planning. Would he invite Katy over for cake? Maybe Mom would take them all out to a movie.
“I hope you didn't think I'd forgotten,” said Grandpa, “just because I won't be there to help make a fuss of the birthday boy. I have something for you.”
“What is it?” asked Jack.
“All will be revealed,” said Grandpa. “In the fullness of time.”
Back in the bus, Grandpa Nod let Jack pull the knob to close the bus's doors. Jack sat on the long seat where he could watch his grandfather and the road at the same time.
This time, Grandpa stopped at the cemetery gates. He looked both ways before he pulled into traffic. At the bottom of the hill, he waited for the red light to change to green. Farther along, he hummed happily as he waited for the lady holding a Stop sign to let them go around a hole in the road.
He went the right way down one-way streets. He yielded to traffic when the sign told him to.
He stopped at a crosswalk while a man with a yellow Lab crossed the street. He stopped at another one while two ladies pushing shopping carts crossed.
But he didn't pull up to any bus stops. He just waved at the waiting passengers. He called out, “This is the wrong bus. Another will be along soon.”
No one waved back.
Jack sat across from his grandfather and held on tight to the shiny pole. He studied Grandpa Nod's rosy cheeks. His eyes followed the creases down his face. He looked at the line across his forehead where his driver's cap had made a mark.
Over and over again Jack whispered the words on the gravestone at the top of the hill.
“Beloved grandfather of Jack Finch.”
“Last stop,” said Grandpa. He pulled up in front of Jack's school. “This is as far as this bus goes.”
Jack could see three people waiting at the bus stop outside his school. But no one knocked on the door to get on. He felt the vibrations of the bus engine under his feet.
Jack knew it was time to get off. But something kept him in his seat, holding the silver pole. He studied his beloved grandfather in his blue uniform.
Grandpa Nod turned toward Jack. “Time's a-wasting, Milky Way.”
“You said you had a present for me.”
“So I did.” Jack's grandpa rustled around in an untidy heap of papers on the dashboard. He slapped his forehead. “You have it already. In the side pocket of your backpack. You'll see.”
Jack let go of the silver pole. He stood next to the driver's seat and leaned against his grandfather.
“I'm passing on my route schedules to you, Jelly Bean,” said Grandpa Nod. “Everything I know that matters to anyone is in there.”
“Everything?” asked Jack.
“Of every route I drove, for every day of the week.”
Jack had been on all of Grandpa Nod's routes, at least once. Even six-year-olds and seven-year-olds are old enough to travel on buses alone if their grandfather is the driver.
“Thank you.” He couldn't think of anything else to say.
His grandpa tapped the side of his backpack. “Keep them safe,” he said. “You never know when you might need them. Now, give us a hug.” He swung his legs around.
Jack hugged his grandpa. He felt warm and light in his arms.
“This is your stop, Oh Henry!” Grandpa pulled away and sat facing the steering wheel again. He pushed the knob. The door wheezed open. “Can't hold up this bus,” he said.
Jack walked slowly down the stairs with his backpack tight on his shoulders.
Down on the sidewalk, he looked back up and waved. He couldn't see his grandfather's face. “Bye, Grandpa,” said Jack.
He thought he heard the words “Goodbye, Jawbreaker,” as the doors wheezed shut.
But he couldn't be sure.
Jack stood on the sidewalk and watched the bus merge with the traffic and drive off.
“Have you been here the whole time?” asked Katy. She was at the front of the line at the bus stop. Her coat was falling off one shoulder and her face was pink. “I thought you would have left already,” she said. “Were you afraid of taking the wrong bus?”
Jack looked into the traffic. There was no sign of his grandpa's bus now. He turned and looked the other way. The Number 26 was coming in their direction.
“I'm not worried about taking the wrong bus,” Jack told Katy.
He thought of his grandpa's schedule safe in the pocket of his backpack.
“You going to sit next to me this time?” asked Katy.
“Sure,” Jack said. “On one condition.”
“What condition?”
“Quit telling everyone about my grandpa.”
“That he died?” said Katy. “I was just trying to be helpful.”
“I know. But don't do it. Okay? If I want anyone to know, I can tell them.”
Katy shrugged. “Okay. Here's our bus.”
Jack let Katy go ahead of him. He looked at the driver as he came up the stairs. It was a woman. A long ponytail hung over her shoulder. “Hi, Sweet Pea,” she said. She checked his bus pass. “Had a long day at school?”
“Pretty long,” said Jack. “But good.”
He sat down next to Katy. She turned to look out the window.
Jack dug into the side pocket of his backpack. He found his grandpa's thick bundle of bus schedules at the very bottom. They were held together by an elastic band.
