Hour 23 Read Free Page B

assembled an outfit in his mind: a pair of jeans on the floor beside his dresser seemed clean, there was a t-shirt hanging from his closet door that he was almost certain he hadn’t worn that week, and his mom had left his favorite black hoodie neatly folded in a laundry basket by his door.
    Nolan gave a quick sniff to each article before putting it on, just to make sure it didn’t smell too foul. The only piece that seemed questionable was the t-shirt, but Nolan pulled it on anyways, certain that the fresh scent of his hoodie would mask any of its stink.
    Before leaving his bedroom, Nolan grabbed a pile of textbooks and papers from his desk and shoved them into his favorite backpack—a yellow JanSport that had been missing a strap since Sophomore year, but that Nolan loved regardless. He nabbed his iPhone from beside his television and slid it into a front jean pocket. In a hurry to catch his bus, he absent-mindedly powered off his video game console and television before saving the progress in his video game. Shit, he thought, as soon as his finger left the power button of his Xbox.
    The unkempt teenager turned out of his bedroom and breezed down the flight of stairs that led to his family dining room. He caught his reflection in the mirror above his fireplace and shook his head a few times until his shaggy, auburn hair was the perfect amount of messy. Satisfied with his appearance, he made his way to the kitchen, grabbed his keys from a hook and went out the backdoor of his house towards his driveway.
    The morning autumn air was cool and crisp. As Nolan walked down his driveway, each breath he exhaled appeared before him as a tiny cloud of fog. The sky was milky, bleak, and pale; the sun struggled to pierce the thick clouds that hung overhead.
    Pigeon Hill Road was empty and quiet. Nolan turned his head left, right, then left again, hoping to catch some sign of life on the desolate street. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone—7:10. If he had missed his bus, it was only by a minute or so.
    Nolan began to turn around and head back inside, annoyed by losing the progress in his video game and the effort he exerted into actually putting on clothes. Before getting far, he heard the sound of a chugging diesel engine and squeaking airbrakes coming down the hill. He sighed as a bright, yellow bus appeared from a bend up the street and slowed to a stop in front of his house.
    The passenger doors of the bus flapped open. As Nolan approached, he noticed a Ford Explorer trailing close behind the bus’s rear bumper. Every window of the vehicle was darkly tinted. Nolan squinted his eyes, trying to make out who it was that might be driving the unfamiliar SUV. All he could see was a reflection of the drab sky above him.
    “Mornin’, Nolan,” a bus driver grumbled as Nolan boarded the bus. Ned was a squat, frail, older gentleman who had been driving Nolan back and forth to school since Nolan began junior high.
    “Good morning, Ned,” Nolan said.
    “Apologies for the delay. Runnin’ a bit behind schedule. Hate to leave you out in the cold like that—hey, ain’t you got something warmer than that sweater? Your mom let you leave the house like that?”
    Nolan raised his hand as he strolled the aisle towards the back of the bus. “It’s cool. I’m fine.”
    Nolan’s house was the first stop on Pigeon Hill Road, and as such he was free to pick any seat aboard the bus. He walked towards his usual—the last seat in the back, on the passenger’s side.
    He pulled out a pair of earphones from his hoodie as he plopped onto the cold vinyl seat. He stuffed the earphones deep into his head—the squishy kind that cancel out the noise around you—and tapped an icon on his iPhone that started to play his favorite Nirvana track list. With his forehead pressed against the chilly window, Nolan watched his house pass out of view as the bus took off.
    The school bus bounced down Pigeon Hill Road and started to make its usual