It was opening night for Jethro’s play and I was ready to go. I’d even looked up instructions on how to use an iron, and now the button down shirt I was wearing was actually passably presentable. It was red, so it clashed a little with my purple necklace, but I only had one button down shirt and I wasn’t taking my necklace off.

The problem now was that my mum was not home.

I’d started worrying when she was five minutes later than usual, which was silly. Or was it? Because now she was over half an hour late, and that was definitely not usual. Especially when there was somewhere we needed to be tonight.

I’d texted her several times. No response. Eventually, with a groan, I gave in and called her.

“Hello, Julie speaking.”

“Where are you?”

“Ah, Cas…” The words came out like a sigh. “I’m stuck in traffic. I don’t know if I’m going to be back in time to go to Jethro’s play. It’s hardly moving.”

I sat down on my bed and stroked Pippi’s head as she squirmed her way onto my lap. “But Jethro said he really wanted me to be there tonight.”

“I know, baby, but I can’t fix the traffic.”

“Mm.” I was frustrated and I wanted to be angry, but she wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t her fault and there was nothing she could do. “Okay, bye.”

This was unacceptable. Jethro had been excited about this for months. He’d managed to get us front row seats and he’d talked about hardly anything but this for the last few weeks. I couldn’t just not be there tonight. I needed to fix this.

There were other ways to get places. Ways I seldom employed due to social anxiety and other issues, but… ways.

A taxi would have made sense, but I didn’t have enough money for one so that was out. I could call Jethro and see if his dad could come and get me, but Jethro had mentioned that his dad wouldn’t get there from work until shortly before the play started so he probably wouldn’t have time to pick me up first.

I was going to have to take a fucking bus, wasn’t I? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Well, I’d figured out ironing for him. Maybe I could figure out buses as well.

Ten minutes of examining bus schedules and route maps later and I had not figured out buses. They were complicated and weird and a bad idea, but if I didn’t leave now I’d miss the only bus going past Jethro’s school for the next hour. At least, I was pretty sure it went there. I shoved the pile of change my dad had left on the kitchen counter into my pocket, texted my mum to let her know I was catching the bus, and left the house.