I was driving home when I saw a little girl on a school bus, banging on the back window and looking scared. It shocked me. Something seemed really wrong, but how could a child be in danger on a school bus? I decided to follow the bus to find out, feeling my heart race.
As I drove, the rain hit my windshield, matching the heaviness in my heart. It had been a terrible day. Last week, my fiancé broke off our engagement, and now, I had just lost my job. My mind was full of mixed thoughts and emotions. “Stay calm, Mollie,” I whispered to myself, gripping the steering wheel. “When one door closes, another opens, right?” But those words didn’t bring much comfort.
How could I go home and tell Mom I lost my job? She’d worry too much. Since Dad passed away, she’s been my support, and I didn’t want to let her down. My phone buzzed for the fifth time—Mom again. I pulled over and answered. “Yeah, Mom, I’ll be there in ten minutes. I’m driving…”
“Mollie, have you seen the weather? A big storm is coming. Be careful.” I felt a lump in my throat. This storm was nothing compared to how I was feeling inside. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be there soon.”
“Are you okay? You sound off.”
“I’m fine, just tired. I gotta drive, okay? Love you,” I said, hanging up. How could I tell her I lost my job for speaking up to my bosses? They said it was about not meeting targets, but I knew the real reason.
“What else could go wrong?” I muttered, pulling back onto the road. Just then, a school bus drove by, and I noticed a little girl at the back, banging on the window and crying for help.
“What the… Is she okay?” I gasped, immediately speeding up to follow the bus. The child was clearly upset, but why? What danger could there be on a school bus?
“I’m coming, hang on,” I mumbled, honking my horn. The bus driver seemed unaware and kept driving. My panic grew, so I made a quick decision. I sped around the bus and forced it to stop in the middle of the road.
The driver, an angry-looking man with a mustache, got out and yelled, “What are you doing? You could’ve caused an accident!” I ignored him and ran onto the bus, where the noise hit me all at once.
The kids gathered around the girl, shouting and laughing. I hurried to the back of the bus where the little girl sat alone, her face red and covered in tears. When I reached her, I froze. This wasn’t what I expected.
“Oh my God! Are you having an asthma attack?” I asked. She nodded, struggling to breathe. I knelt beside her, my heart racing. “What’s your name?” I asked, trying to stay calm. She pointed to her ID card—her name was Chelsea. “Okay, Chelsea, we’re going to get you help. Where’s your inhaler?”
Chelsea shook her head, unable to speak. The driver had followed me, looking worried. “Do you know where her inhaler is?” I asked. He shook his head, saying, “I didn’t even know she was in trouble. It’s so noisy, I couldn’t hear anything.” Holding back my frustration, I searched her backpack but found nothing. My panic grew as Chelsea’s lips started turning blue.
“Help me look!” I shouted at the driver. We searched everywhere, but no inhaler. Meanwhile, some kids were laughing and pointing at Chelsea. “This isn’t funny!” I snapped. Desperate, I started checking the other kids’ backpacks. A boy protested, but in the third bag, I found Chelsea’s inhaler.
“Why do you have this?” I demanded. He muttered, “It was just a joke.”
“A joke? She could have died!” I said, rushing back to Chelsea and helping her use the inhaler. Slowly, her breathing improved, and the color returned to her face. I held her hand, comforting her as she recovered. The driver stood nearby, looking guilty.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” he said.
“These kids are your responsibility! You should’ve checked when you heard the noise,” I replied angrily. He nodded, ashamed. Chelsea tugged on my sleeve and whispered, “Thank you.” Those two words hit me deeply.
“I’ll stay with you until we get you home, okay?” I said. She nodded with a small smile. I told the driver I’d ride with her and quickly moved my car. When I returned, I sat beside Chelsea, putting my arm around her. The bus was quiet now as the seriousness of the situation sank in.
“Why didn’t the other kids help you?” I asked softly.
“They think it’s funny when I can’t breathe. They hide my inhaler sometimes,” Chelsea said, her voice trembling.
My heart ached for her. “That’s not okay, Chelsea. You know that, right?” She nodded, looking down. “I try to be brave, but sometimes I get so scared,” she whispered.
I gently squeezed her shoulder.
“You were so brave today. You got my attention when you needed help, and that takes a lot of courage.” A small smile appeared on her face. “Really?” she asked. “Really. You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”
A couple of stops later, Chelsea pointed out the window. “That’s my mommy and daddy!” When we got off the bus, her parents rushed over, looking confused. “Chelsea, who is this?” her mom asked, looking at me carefully. Chelsea, now sounding stronger, said, “This is Mollie. She saved my life.” After Chelsea told them what happened, her parents went from confused to thankful, then upset about the driver, the other kids, and the whole situation.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” her dad said, tearing up. “I’m just glad I was there,” I replied.
Mrs. Stewart, Chelsea’s mom, insisted on driving me back to my car. As we arrived at the parking lot, it started raining heavily. “So, Mollie,” she asked, looking at me through the rain, “what do you do?” I laughed bitterly. “Funny you ask. I actually lost my job today.” Her eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?” I sighed, the events of the day weighing on me again. “I spoke up about some unethical things at work. They didn’t like it, so they fired me.”
She was quiet for a moment before saying, “My husband and I run a small business, and we might have an opening. Would you be interested in an interview?” I was shocked. “Are you serious?” She smiled. “Absolutely. Anyone who helps a child in need like you did is someone I want on my team.” As we stopped near my car, she handed me her business card. “Call me tomorrow, and we’ll arrange something.”
I held the card tightly, feeling a glimmer of hope. “Thank you. I will.”
The next morning, I woke up feeling lighter than I had in a while. I told my mom everything—about losing my job, saving Chelsea, and the new job opportunity. She hugged me, pride in her eyes. “I always knew you were meant for great things!”
Later, I dialed Mrs. Stewart’s number, my heart racing with excitement. “Hello, Mollie,” she answered warmly. “I’m so glad you called. How about coming in for an interview this afternoon?” I couldn’t help but smile. “I’d love to. Thank you so much for this chance.”
“No, thank you,” she said with a smile in her voice. “You saved our daughter. This is the least we can do.”
As I hung up the phone, tears filled my eyes—this time, they were tears of happiness.