Short Stories By Dayanara Hudson
Cheeser By Dayanara Hudson It's raining again, as it has been every morning for the past three days. Three days, hmm, three was Sammie's favorite number, it was the shape of a small birthmark on her left ankle it was interesting. Her bed was right by the window, so she sat up and watched the drops fall for a good ten minutes before her mom yelled "SAMMIE, SCHOOL," and with extreme reluctance she crawled out of bed. Dressed in her Friday overall jeans, green tee, with her hair in a ponytail and messenger bag in hand, Sammie looked in the mirror and pushed her glasses up on her nose. She was as ready as she'd ever be. Time to face Friday morning. Umbrella in hand, she waited with the other seven sixth graders at the bus stop, the daily dread was under way. From the first day of class, and the moment she stepped on the cheese bus, the twins were her daily nightmare. The Meva twins, Sammie's morning bus persecutors. The mean girls that always criticized Sammie's clothes, and always found a new way to push her out of the seat whenever she was stuck without a seat, which was almost everyday. The dread she carried with her was as heavy as a lead brick, and her mother wasn't listening. "Be nicer to them, be friendlier, outgoing, a social butterfly," she'd say, being a social butterfly was not part of Sammie's agenda, not dropping her lunch tray during third period lunch, again, was. 7:16, the cheeser was late. She didn't like being late, late just guaranteed she'd be stuck in the last seat, the last seat with the twins. 7:18, finally, but the lead brick just sank deeper into her gut. The rain didn't help the regular moldy sock smell that permeated the bus. Sammie scanned for a seat, dread. The last seat available was next to the twins. Half way through the bus she gave the seats a second scan, in the rearview mirror the bus driver gave her a nod and a smile. She took a deep breath, and walked towards the last seat with the twins. She stood next to the seat, they scanned her from head to toe, and didn't budge. "Excuse me." They ignored her. "Excuse me." It came out a little louder. They moved slightly. Sammie accepted the small gesture and sat down. As soon as the bus hit the first speed bump the twins bumped Sammie, shoving her out of the seat completely. She brushed herself off, got up and shoved herself back into the seat, pushing the twins into each other in the process. "OUCH! What is your problem?" They said in unison, like they said a lot of things. Calmly and with nerves on edge, she stood up, pushed her glasses up and said, "My problem? MY problem? All I want is a seat on this old cheeser bus, and every day you two find a new way to make this ride the most miserable thirty minutes of my day. You two should be grateful I don't walk onto this bus and start doing this." With that said, Sammie dropped her bag and pushed her way onto the twins and started bouncing up and down on their laps. "La, la, la, la, la, look at me, I got a seat, la, la, la, look at me this is my new favorite seat. La, la, la, la." Followed by hysterical laughter. The twins complained and were freaked. The
other kids looked on, eyes wide, jaws dropped. The bus driver simply smiled to himself. "No way" one boy said, "Way to go Sammie" said another. The twins crawled out of the seat and left her alone, they moved towards the front and squeezed into separate seats with another set of girls. Sammie sat in the back and enjoyed her victory. She laughed to herself the rest of the ride and enjoyed the view.
Copyright ÂŠ 2011 Dayanara Hudson All rights reserved.
Monday morning the sun was out. Sammie sighed and crawled out of bed, and slowly readied herself into her Monday jeans and red tee. At the bus stop, the other kids waiting just looked at her and whispered to each other. She shoved her hands into her pocket and looked in the direction of the bus. On the bus she held her head high as she scanned for a seat. The bus became quiet. The twins were squeezed into separate seats with other girls and they didn't even look up when Sammie walked by. The last seat on the bus had only one person, the new kid, Buster. Sammie plopped herself next to him and extended her hand. "I'm Sammie." The new kid looked up from his comic, pushed up his glasses and said, "I'm Buster." Everyone else was still being very quiet. "It's so quiet, is something wrong? Are we in trouble?" Sammie giggled at his question, "Oh, they just think Iâ€™m crazy." "OH. Okay?" Buster wrinkled his nose, "Eh, you look normal to me." He shrugged and went back to this comic. Sammie smiled, at her newfound confidence.
The Exchange Dayanara Hudson I woke up one morning with my mind made up and accepted my fate. The fate of loneliness galore! When I opened my laptop, as I do every morning, I read an unfamiliar name amidst a dozen new messages. Tybalt Adair. It was different, rare, and rolled off the tongue in the same way reading an old poem would. It was a response to my posting. An ad I placed online six months ago about an old art book. After sighing and mumbling, that took long enough, I replied, I’ll mail you the book after I receive payment. I closed the laptop and went on with my day. The next morning, your response, superbly formal, informed me that your residence was in the same zip code as my posting, I used the college’s zip code, therefore you considered it convenient to simply meet locally, in public of course, and you’d pay me in person. To which I replied, quite informally, sure whatever 12:30PM, Mia’s Café, after my writing class Wednesday works, how about you? I’ll sit the book up on the table so you’ll know where to look. Within a half an hour I had your response, yes that’s splendid. Wednesday morning came and went. Writing class was lacking in energy, as usual, I felt like nodding off, but my doodles of Pablo Dog’s misadventures kept me quite entertained. Inside Mia’s Café, I was lost in my book, as I tend to do, I forget to eat and just get lost in the words of Allende, Márquez and Neruda. When a shadow fell across my table, I looked up quite bothered by the interruption. Excuse me. You’re in my light. When I saw the face that stared back, I stopped talking. Tall, elegant, soft brown hair and a crooked little smile. I’m sorry but I saw the art book, and you looked so deep in thought. I felt like a dolt. Sorry, I just think too much, never mind; yeah this is the text book, it’s nice and heavy like your standard text book. I held out my hand where you placed what seemed like a brand new fifty-dollar bill. I grinned and handed you the book. Nice doing business with you, and shoved my head back into my book. You grinned and walked toward the counter, where you sat on a stool and ordered a hot chocolate and a slice of French silk pie. Be still my beating heart. You started skimming the pages of the book, as heavily concentrated, as I was the first time I touched those same
pages. Concentrating on my end now became futile. Fifteen minutes later, I was still on page ninety-three, Maya Vidal’s wayward ways would have to wait a little while longer. I walked up to the counter and ordered a hot chocolate. I sat on the stool next to yours. You looked over and gave me that crooked little smile. I grinned, sans teeth. That’s when you laughed. In my writing class on the last day of the semester, three months later, the ambiance was not the same. Pablo Dog’s misadventures had a full chapter now. I had a new road to explore, in the warm embrace of the unexpected. The thought alone made me smile. Mia’s café became our usual Wednesday. In the corner table I sat with my head in my book, when a familiar shadow crossed my table. I looked up and saw two cups of hot chocolate and that crooked little smile. That’s when I laughed. Laughter now shared over ice cream and hobbit jokes. Copyright © 2011 Dayanara Hudson All rights reserved.