I was driving home when I saw a little girl on a school bus, banging on the back window in terror. My world stopped. Something was terribly wrong. But what danger could a little child possibly be in on a seemingly safe school bus? I chased the bus to find out, only for my heart to skip a beat.

The rain pelted against my windshield as I drove home, each drop echoing the heaviness in my heart. Today had to be the worst day of my life. First, my fiancé called off our wedding last week, and now, I’d just lost my job. My mind was a tangled mess of thoughts and emotions…

A frustrated young woman driving a car | Source: Freepik

“Stay calm, Mollie,” I whispered to myself, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “There’s got to be another way. If one door closes, another opens, right?”

But the words felt hollow. How could I go home and tell Mom I’d been laid off?

She’d worry herself sick. Ever since Dad died, she’d been my rock, and the last thing I wanted was to let her down.

A distressed woman driving a car | Source: Freepik

My phone buzzed for the fifth time. Mom again. I pulled over to the curb and answered.

“Yeah, Mom, I’ll be there in ten minutes. I’m driving…”

“Mollie, honey, have you seen the weather forecast? There’s a big storm coming. Please be careful.”

I swallowed hard. This storm was nothing compared to the one brewing inside me.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be there soon.”

A woman sitting in her car and talking on the phone | Source: Freepik

“Is everything okay? You sound off.”

“I’m fine, Mom. Just… tired. I gotta drive, okay? Love you,” I hung up, my throat tight.

How could I tell her I’d lost my job just for speaking up to the higher-ups? They’d used the excuse of “not meeting quarterly targets,” but I knew the real reason.

A worried senior woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels

“What’s the worst that could happen now?” I muttered, putting the car back in gear.

Little did I know, I was about to find out.

As I merged back into traffic, a yellow school bus rumbled past me. Something caught my eye in the back window: a little girl, her face pressed against the glass, her tiny fists pounding frantically. She was crying for help.

A school bus on the street | Source: Unsplash

“What the…? Oh my God… is she alright?” I gasped.

Without thinking, I gunned the engine, racing after the bus. The child was clearly in distress, but why? What kind of danger could she be in on a seemingly safe school bus?

“I’m coming, hold on, sweetie,” I mumbled, honking my horn repeatedly.

The bus driver seemed oblivious, continuing down the road as if nothing was wrong. Panic rising in my chest, I made a split-second decision. I swerved around the bus and cut in front, forcing it to a stop in the middle of the busy road.

A shocked woman sitting in a car | Source: Freepik

The driver, a burly man with a thick black mustache, stormed out. “What kinda stunt are you pulling, lady? You coulda caused an accident!”

I ignored him, pushing past and rushing onto the bus. The noise hit me like a wall. The kids flocked around the girl, shouting and laughing.

I raced to the back, where the little girl sat alone, her face now red and tear-streaked. As I reached her, I froze. This wasn’t what I expected at all.

Grayscale of a teary-eyed little girl | Source: Pexels

“Oh my God! Are you having an asthma attack?”

The little girl nodded frantically, her chest heaving as she struggled for air. I knelt beside her seat, my heart racing.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

She pointed to the ID card hanging around her neck. Her name was Chelsea.

“Okay, Chelsea, we’re gonna get you help. Where’s your inhaler?”

A startled woman in a school bus | Source: Midjourney

Chelsea shook her head, unable to speak. I looked up to see the driver had followed me, his face pale.

“Do you know where her inhaler is?”

He shook his head. “I… I didn’t even know she was having trouble. It’s so noisy back here, I couldn’t hear anything.”

I bit back an angry retort and started searching Chelsea’s backpack. Nothing. Panic clawed at my insides as I watched the little girl’s lips start to turn blue.

A woman holding a backpack | Source: Freepik

“Help me look!” I shouted at the driver.

We searched under the seats, in the aisle, everywhere we could think of. To my horror, I realized the other kids were laughing, some even pointing at Chelsea.

“This isn’t funny!” I snapped at them. “She needs help!”

That’s when it hit me. I started grabbing all their backpacks, ignoring their protests.

“Hey, you can’t do that!” a freckle-faced boy yelled.

Close-up shot of a boy with freckles | Source: Midjourney

I found it in the third bag I checked: a blue inhaler with Chelsea’s name on it. I rounded on the boy who owned the backpack.

“Why do you have this?”

He looked away, muttering, “It was just a joke.”

“A joke? She could have died!”

Partial view of an asthma inhaler in a bag | Source: Midjourney