If there was anything Terry hated more than his name, it was the little house across the street. He hated every bit of it. The way it reeked _poor_, the way the wind chimes sounded so _peaceful_ and _old_, the way the vines gently grew in between the crumbling stone base.

Terry despised that house.

No, he loathed it.

There weren’t any words to describe his hatred, that aching feeling that absorbed him whole. The feeling that pushed any empathy, if he had any, deep into his chest, far from sight. It was as small and as far away as a twinkling star.

Terry almost dreaded to walk out the door for school that morning. He could see the picture so clearly.

Terry would walk outside his large brick mansion to the bus wearing a smug grin. Then, he’d hop on the bus, practically radiating rich and superior. He’d sit down next to his friend George, who had the nerve to take the window seat. Before Terry could peep out a word, George let out a disgusted snarl.

_“Ew, you live next to that_?”

And just like that, his whole world would begin to crumble. The laughs of other children, his face turning an embarrassing shade of red.

Terry shuddered, snapping back into reality. He’d already stalled for how long? At least ten minutes. The bus must be waiting for him to arrive.

Terry pulled his backpacks straps tightly against his shoulders and opened the door widely, hoping all the kids on the bus could see the glassy white enterior as he went out to greet them.

Wait.

Where was the bus?

He looked left and right, half of his brain suspecting the whole bus, including the bus driver, to jump out from the bushes and yell, _“April Fools_!” Then he’d laugh alongside them and-

“Did you miss the bus, sweetheart?”

Ugh. Sweetheart? Maybe he despised that even more than the house next door. Or his name.

He looked around, trying to find who sprouted those less than delightful words. His eyes landed on the eyesore across the street. The motion of a rocking chair caught his eye. An old women with silky grey hair sat with a green ball of yarn in her lap. He could feel the pressure of her teal eyes pushing down on him.

Terry sometimes felt like he had a sixth sense when it came to people looking at him. Though, it could be quite exhausting since he was always wherever the worlds eyes lied.

The woman cocked her head curiously as Terry made his way though his green yard. He looked left and right, and left and right again, and again.

Perhaps the bus was late?

“It left about fifteen minutes ago.” The woman informed him. A sympathetic smile coated her face making Terry want to gag. He managed to hold back, but not without a snarl forming in the back of his throat.

He missed the bus. What could be more embarrassing than that? He could imagine George and all the kids waiting for the door of his house to open. Their eyes wide as if waiting for their favorite celebrities. Maybe they protested when the bus driver finally hit the gas. Maybe they tried to take over the bus to go back and—

“Can your parent take you to school?” The woman asked. Her voice was still soft, yet Terry jumped at the sudden question.

His parents? Terry couldn’t decide if they would kill him or themselves if they had to take him to school. Even sharing the same car with him must’ve sounded detestable.

“No.” He answered simply, not meeting the woman’s gaze.

“I would drive you myself, but these old eyes wouldn’t be able to focus on the road.” The woman laughed. Terry didn’t even try to join in. He was stuck in a horrible situation.

It was either go back inside and face the wrath of his parents or walk several miles to school, and he wasn’t doing either of those.

“The school is an awful long ways away. You can stay with me while you wait for your parents.” The woman suggested, her eyes lighting up at the thought of company.

Terry couldn’t help but cringe, but he had to admit, it seemed like his best option. Hopefully no one would see him sitting with his old neighbor in matching rocking chairs. That story would spread the halls of his school faster than light.

Terry shrugged his backpack onto the wooden porch heavily and slumped into the chair, trying to make himself as small as possible.

“Can I get you anything?” The woman asked, croqueting a few stitches in what looked like a scarf.

“No.” Terry said, not really wanting to talk. He didn’t even want to match the old woman’s gaze, though, he supposed he might have to eventually.

“You can call me Mrs. Georgia.” The woman said.

Terry nodded.

Mrs Georgia.

That same sounded awfully familiar to George, which led him down a train of thought about his friend.

How was the school doing without him there? Who were they watching? How were they even funtioning? He shuddered. It must be havoc. If only the bus waited for him.

“How did you miss the bus?” Mrs. Georiga asked.

“You mean how the bus left without me? I have no clue!” He complained.

The woman laughed lightly. “The bus isn’t going to wait on you, sweetheart. The world had to divide responsibilities. The drivers job is to get to the house and yours is to make the bus on time.”

Terry narrowed his eyes. “They could’ve waited a few minutes.

“Perhaps, it would’ve been kind, but we can’t blame either side, can we? We all have responsibilities and duties. In your case, sometimes those bump into each other and cause disruption.”

Mrs. Georgia added a few more stitches to her scarf, as if she didn’t just spit out something an English teacher would say.

Terry couldn’t think of anything to say. He expected himself to be more snarky towards this lady who lived in the house he hated, but for some reason the mean words weren’t just pouring out of him like they usually did. Perhaps it was the way he took her side in a gentle, loving way.

“I guess so.” He said instead, surprising himself.

The woman smiled. “On that note, how about cookies?”

“Yes please!”