Work Text:
In a puny little town, in a puny little school, at far too early in the morning, shivering and sniffling microscopic Writing class boarded a short bus to a big city. Green growing onto the bustling, howling, growling, highway, and the incisive chatter of my cheerful classmates, causes to me to pull my headphones over my ears. The music, classical/modern piano that tells me a story of an old man's lost love by the sea in the fewest notes possible, does little to block the noise. But I don't mind. My class, though I'd only been in it few weeks, was something I found increasingly great comfort in. My friend though, couldn't come today. I wonder vaguely as the slimy, slippery, green forest slowly and steadily turns into a concrete jungle of tall towers and wide sidewalks, if maybe she is sick? The city engulfs our bus, faster than I could realize we'd left the sleepy woods. This special field trip, reserved only for our ravaging ranks, also known as 2nd period writing, was my first visit to a big city. I glance around at the prestine panes of glass, the hussling and hooting and shouting and pouting of the seemingly endless crowds of citizens going about their day and think to myself that I shouldn't have come. After all, a country girl can't grow used to a big city in one day.
We walk. Uphill. To a bookstore my teachers speaks of fondly and adamantly about, but I didn't pay much attention. The store is enormous, much against my previous speculations. Color coded rooms, stairs painted like a rainbow, fresh new, and used, papers. Makes me feel like I'm home.
The hour goes by too quickly. I wait outside, and see a girl on the corner. She has a big winter coat, and an even bigger baby blue backpack. And a silent, scruffy dog with golden fur. Homeless. She looks so young, possibly even my age. It takes more courage than what I usually muster, but finally, I pulled half of the money I brought for lunch and swallow hard. My classmates watch as I, the quiet and calm new kid, approach what some of the passerbys on the street think is lowly scum and hand her the money. I have no words I can give her. No encouragement. No hope. But her smile, and my smile, and the awkward apprehensive air say it all. I recieve little praise, a single comment from a girl with a bubbly personality and bright red hair. But praise isn't what I'm after.
We go to a grocery store for lunch. I write this with an amused smile, because a stoic kid like me being run around by my ever energetic classmates, it felt more like a race than anything else.
Finally, we're led back to our precious short bus to go to the location we are told is the main event of the field trip. Personally, I was more impressed by the bookstore.
The bus home is long, and worn out. Not much talking occurs, though while none of us were looking a man headed straight for our bus and our teachers had to swerve to avoid a collision. We laugh nervously to get over the shock and scare.
And we return to our sleepy little town and when 2nd comes the next day I'm asked to write this. This. My first day to a very big. Very Real. Very New. World.