It didn't surprise me when I found there weren't very many people riding the bus at six in the morning. Though I was thankful that I could freely sit peacefully in the very back with my feet up comfortably on the seat. Apart from me, the patrons of the bus included a very poor looking man with stains covering his gray sweatsuit, a woman wearing a very short red dress with unkempt hair and smeared makeup, and finally a stray cat who purred soundlessly in the corner.

The bus passed by lights as it slowly came to a stop at what looked like a large parking lot with a bar positioned in the back corner. During the summer the lot was filled with theme park attractions. Thing like small rides, candy carts, and carnival games. The Farris wheel was really the only thing they left behind each year since it was far too big to move and they could continue using it in the winter. 

During the winter, the lot was empty. As it was now. The only thing that stayed open was the small bar that shared the plot of land with the fairground.

I turned away from the window and hung my head, looking down at the backpack on my knees. It was an old, navy blue backpack I'd gotten at Goodwill with my sister a long time ago. Three years and it was beginning to tare, but I hadn't replaced it. I'd planned on keeping it until the books fell right through the bottom.

The bus finally pulled onto 3rd street and I tugged the red string hung above. As it slowly came to a stop, I passed the other three patrons. The yawning cat, the woman in disarray, and the man who smelled of piss now that I got closer. Right before the doors closed, the old man stepped off and wandered in the direction of the Ferris wheel, which was tall enough to see over the trees.

I walked across the street. There was a bridge, cleverly named Swing Bridge, with a walkway beneath that led to the high school. I passed the tire swings that hung, swaying in the chilly winds and ignored the skateboarders who were smoking pot near the wall. They ignored me too.

St. Joseph High School was a towering, cathedral. Not to be overly descriptive, as it really was an old converted Catholic Church. In its Hay day, it had held hundreds of masses, weddings, and funerals. Though the building itself was religious in name, the school was merely public, happily funded by government taxes.

I'd always admired the architecture of the building, despite not being religious myself. There was something to be said about Catholic designs. They all resemble castles of crafted artwork, complete with stained glass windows. Arguably the best feature, though the murals inside, which the school opted only to erase the really religious ones, were a nice added touch.

"You're early."

I flinched unknowingly at the voice and spun around, careful not to slip on the ice that plagued the sidewalks. The owner of the voice was my aunt and school counselor. She was a small woman, standing at just barely five feet tall. Her heels added to her height, though just barely to my shoulders. Like my mother, she had the families dark, wavy hair and beautiful sky blue eyes. Those were traits my evil twin sister had picked up, leaving me with our father's ugly orange hair and pale eyes.

"I have to work on a project," I explained, scanning my damn entry card for the sixth time only to get the usual rejection. The tips of my fingers burned against the cold as I held the card between them. "Come on!"

Lauren pushed me gently to the side. "You're probably too early." She scanned hers along, hearing it click soon after. "See? Right now it's faculty only."

I rolled my eyes but walked inside with her. The bottoms of her heels clicked against the tile floor, only echoing loudly as we reached the stairwell.

"Today's January 4th." She said.

There was a moment in me where I felt compelled to scream. Even after three years, this was a topic I ran from. Be it the guilt rotting inside me, the regret, the desire to shut it all off, or the stress, you could honestly pick any of these. I didn't want to talk about it.

Instead, I kept my hands clenched in the pockets of my dark red sweatshirt, a shade that nearly matched my hair, and looked to the floor.

Lauren went on. "Are you going to visit him?"

What sort of question was that? I always went to see him. I did so religiously. It didn't matter if that year the winter was harsh or the snow was coming down. I was always there. "Yes."

She hummed, almost like she hadn't expected that answer. "Peter," She stood in the stairwell at the landing. Her brows creased over her eyes with concern - a look I had gotten used to by now. "Why don't you go and make some friends?"

Make some friends. She said that as if it were like breathing in air. Most adults didn't seem to take into consideration that when you spend several years with the same people, it's not that easy to suddenly make friends. My classmates knew me, and I knew them.

"I think I'm good," I told her.

This was an easy thing to say. Teachers, and family, went on endless tangents about how I needed to find friends and build relationships. If not many, at least one. That was the normal human thing to do, after all, belonging to a social species. There was probably some truth to it, though. My jealousy over trivial things like friends drove me mad. But things like friendships in a school came with talking and getting to know people. People who already had preestablished connections. People were complicated enough and, as someone once told me, the best solution to a problem is usually the easiest.

Keeping quiet was always easier than forcing yourself into the preestablished group. There really wasn't anything I could do as I sat back and watched. Everyone else moved forward while it felt like my feet were keeping me still.