Page 2 of Make It Without You

After a pause, I respond, “Emily.”

“Are you a freshman?”

“Yes. Are you?” My conversation skills are lacking. But it’s hard to talk with kids my age when I grew up being treated like an adult.

He shakes his head. “No. I’m a sophomore.”

Disappointment ensues. Wait, why am I disappointed?

“Oh.”

“I think we’re neighbors,” James observes.

“We are?” I perk up at that.

“Yep. My family’s house is right next door to yours.” He points down the street towards the direction of our houses.

“Oh…” I’m sure my parents would have mentioned kids my age living in the neighborhood.

“We were out of town for most of the summer. So that’s probably why you didn’t know.” He says matter-of-factly with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I was out of town too,” I say, wondering why he keeps talking to me and questioning why I can’t string a full sentence together.

The roar of the bus turning down our street has my heart rate kicking into overdrive. My hands begin to sweat again and I have to adjust my hold on the handle of my violin case.

“Did you want to sit next to me on the bus?” His offer is so kind it makes me want to cry. Right here on the sidewalk.

I should say no. My loner status and all. But maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to have one friend at this school.

I find my head nodding in quick motion. “Okay.”

The bus pulls up, and James lets me on first. I pick a seat that’s not in the middle of the bus, but not in the front and slide in. My violin rests against the bus frame while my backpack comes to rest on my lap. James slides onto the seat next to me and puts his backpack on the bus floor. The jolt of the bus pulling forward to pick up more kids is terrifying, but also what a normal school experience should be like.

I never experienced this in New York. We lived a street over from my school so I either walked or my parents had a car drop me off and pick me up. A little part of me was envious of thekids who got to experience an early bus ride to school and a boisterous ride home at the end of the day.

The bus makes five more stops, filling up fairly quickly with the rest of the kids. At that, my knee starts bobbing up and down. It’s a nervous habit that I’ve had forever.

“Nervous?” James asks from next to me.

My gaze collides with James’s and my voice comes out soft, as it always does when I’m in an unfamiliar setting. “A little.”

“Don’t be,” he tells me like it’s that simple.

James does his best to make conversation with me. But my nerves have taken over my brain so conversation is short at best. And sooner than I hoped, we’re pulling up to the school.

“Where’s your first class?” He asks me when we’re both off the bus.

I unzip my backpack and pull out my class schedule, handing it to him wordlessly.

“Oh, that’s right down the hall from my class,” he exclaims. “I’ll show you where it’s at.”

“Don’t you have friends to get to?” I’m grateful but also confused as to why he’s helping me out.

He hands me back my schedule and I tuck it back into the front pocket of my backpack. “I don’t have a lot of friends. Well, two friends. Which I guess is all you need.” He admits with a shrug of his shoulders and I instantly feel bad.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. They’re plenty of friends for me.”

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