[ WP ] A kid on your bus never wears his seat because he says nothing bad will happen . Today he wears his seatbelt .

I noticed it. That should tell you something. 
 
 It ’ s not every day you get on the morning bus, stoned with the eyes of Satan, and a see a kid in High School with the seatbelt on. It just didn ’ t happen. 
 
 My school used an obviously commandeered Elementary School Bus for our school. 
 The seats were so small that most kids overgrew them, plus, it still had the seatbelts installed. The children sized seatbelt. 
 
 The reason this occurrence was so noticeable, even though, I was stoned like I had shot-gunned Medusa, was because the person who had the seatbelt on was Jim. Jim was 5 ’ 9 and two-hundred and fifty pounds. I was amazed he managed to stretch each of the seatbelts in an X across his mass. 
 
 When he told me at first that he never wore a seatbelt, I assumed it was because he was stupid and was just stating the obvious. Of course you never wear a seatbelt, it ’ s High School! Who wore a seatbelt in Elementary School? The bus driver of mine didn ’ t even bother. Huh, I wonder if that was just a really passive aggressive move on his part, to not enforce it or anything. I mean, we could have totally been loud and annoying enough to justify his vehicular suicide/man slaughter. If he just let Jesus take the wheel… Whatever. 
 
 The way Jim was hunkered down in his seat was remarkable. This pasty, greasy brunette Rock Lee looking oracle was rolled up on the seat like a flabby rolie polie. 
 Rolie Polie Olie was great a great show. His entire weight was on his upper back as his knees pressed against his chest with his light-up Sketchers bracing the seat in front of him. 
 
 It was even more noticeable because he was sitting in the seat directly across from mine in the back of the bus. He assumed that pose when I sat down. At first, I was wondering if I was just way too high. But then, Jim did something I didn ’ t think would ever happen: he made eye contact with me. 
 
 His gaze was paralyzing even when obscured by his two-inch thick glasses. At the back of my very foggy mind, I knew something was about to happen. Luckily we were both the only ones who were in our seats. I didn ’ t want anyone else ’ s projectile corpse being thrown at me. We ’ d be lucky if he didn ’ t rip the seat out in a high speed crash. 
 
 Well, I waited. And waited. 
 
 The entire bus ride was about forty-five minutes each way and therefore another major chunk out of my spare time. It had been about twenty minutes and it looked like Jim ’ s Spidey sense was just starting to go off again. I could have asked him at any point through this whole Final Destination movie what he thought was going to happen, but I really wanted to go through the whole adventure. Fuck spoilers. 
 
 I didn ’ t even talk to him after this, now that I think about it. 
 
 Well, it looked like Jim started to vibrate in his seat. Which again, was a sight to behold. Not like that. No homo. I mean, it looked like he was mid San Francisco earthquake the way he was bouncing back and forth in his seat. Which would explain a lot if he was born during it. How old is Jim? How old am I? When did that earthquake even happen? Whatever. 
 
 I peeked over the seat, I mean, looked over the toddler ’ s somehow cigarette-burned seat, and saw what I can only describe as some Final Destination type-shit. 
 
 We were at a four way intersection at a stoplight. The street wasn ’ t even busy considering it was still 6:50 in the morning on a Monday. It happened to connect to a major highway, so there were semi-trucks going up and down it. This one happened to be carrying those large cement tubes on the back of it. 
 
 To this day, I ’ m not sure if this trucker just wanted to impress my toothless school bus driver, or he just hated children as much as my Elementary School bus driver did, because he tried to drift a right turn coming from the left. I think he was trying to impress the bus driver because he honked his horn while he did it. 
 
 I think he honked his horn, like, seven times, getting real Biblical with it if he just felt like murdering children. Again, I guess we could have deserved it. You know 
 high schoolers. Maybe he has a daughter out there somewhere he doesn ’ t like. 
 
 Anyway, his trailer naturally over swung the turn, what with the cement tunnel and all, slamming into our bus. It knocked our bus so hard it felt like we were pushed over. The other people started falling out of their seats into the fresh pond of broken glass as the bus rolled over to the right. Only Jim and I were wearing our seatbelts. I think the bus driver flew across the bus too. Damn, I should really call the school board. 
 
 Jim ’ s glasses came in handy, too. I wonder if he got his palm read poorly when he was younger, because the only logical reason he could have picked those glasses was to withstand the raining shards of glass as he looked up to me. It ’ s like the psychic didn ’ t tell him the date but just vaguely described this ridiculous event so he based the rest of his life around it. 
 
 The cement tunnel happened to break the poorly managed restraints as it knocked over our bus. The tunnel rolled off the trailer and onto the side of our bus. It caved in my side of the bus as it started rolling down the length of it. Crunching the metal beneath it. 
 
 I looked back from my impending doom and then back to Jim. He met my gaze again as he looked up to my suspended to-be corpse. 
 
 “ Asshole, ” he said without blinking. 
 
 I looked back up to the rolling tunnel, and right as the cement tunnel got to me, it cracked and broke apart. The remaining chunks of concrete screeched off the side of the bus as they thudded to the ground. 
 
 I looked back to Jim and said, “ Fuck you, Jim. ” 
 
 “ And that ’ s why I was cussing at Jim, and that ’ s why I got suspended. ” 
 
 “ What part of that story made it better than telling me you were just cussing on the buss? ” 

