Saving the Seat on Bus 14
Zoe's best friend Pia had gone to stay with her grandmother for an entire month, and the third seat on Bus 14 sat empty every single morning. Zoe set her backpack on it and told herself that a backpack was a perfectly respectable seatmate.
On Tuesday, a new boy named Clem climbed aboard, carrying a trombone case that was almost as tall as he was. The bus was nearly full, so he hesitated, glanced at the backpack, and then looked at Zoe. "Sorry," she said flatly. "It's saved."
Clem nodded and settled into the seat across the aisle, hugging the case in his arms, and all the way to school it bumped against his knees. Zoe tried hard not to feel guilty about it.
The next day he was there again, and this time he pulled out a crossword puzzle and muttered that he needed seven letters for a type of storm, starting with B. "Blizzard," Zoe blurted before she could stop herself. He smiled and penciled it in, and by Friday they were solving the puzzle together across the aisle, one clue at a time.
When Pia finally came home, Zoe felt nervous. But Pia grinned at the empty seat, slid in beside her, and noticed the puzzle. "Who's the new kid?" she asked. Zoe waved Clem over to the seat in front of them, and he turned around to share the crossword.
"I saved a seat for you," Zoe told Pia, "and I think I accidentally saved one for him too."