The bus to town was about to leave as Dorothy arrived at the bus stop. She hurried to the just closing doors and breathed a sigh of relief when the driver stopped and reopened them. She bought her ticket and walked along the aisle, avoiding eye contact with most of the other passengers apart from a brief smile of recognition for a neighbour. She took a vacant seat at the back and settled in for the ride. Dorothy took out her headphones and put them on. The other end of the wire wasn't plugged into her phone so there was no music playing, but she found it a suitable deterrent for anyone who might feel like starting up a conversation. She wasn't particularly anti-social, she was just in a quiet mood and wanted to do what she had to do and get home. She always seemed to do better on a test after a good night's sleep and tomorrow's maths exam would need the full eight hours with extra bonus time.
Rain started to tap on the window next to her, as if it were asking to be let in out of the cold. She folded her arms, hugging herself to encourage some body heat to spread, even though the temperature hadn't changed. The bus stopped occasionally to allow people to board or alight, but Dorothy didn't notice any of them. She stared out of the window at the gathering darkness and watched the streaks of rain as they ran down the glass, merging with other drops which either gave them more momentum or stopped them dead, out of the race for good.
"Hey Dottie."
Dorothy hated the abbreviation of her name. If her parents had wanted it to be shortened, they'd have forgone the extra letters and christened her that way. Everyone who knew her knew she would rarely answer to anything other than her full first name. She ignored the person speaking to her. She knew the voice anyway and could see him in the reflection from the window. Julian Hornsby. Class joker and a boy too intelligent for the little work he put in to his studies. Dorothy had to show effort and diligence to achieve the grades she had. Granted, she was doing well at school, but it didn't come easy. She often thought that she was wading through treacle in her attempts to understand the topics she was being taught. Julian skated through his lessons on a rink of laughter, wit and cheekiness. His ready charm was lost on her however. They were friends of a sort, but she could happily punch him sometimes. The fact she disliked the name 'Dottie' only made him use it all the more.
He dropped into the seat next to her with enough force to make her bounce in her own.
"You got the kangaroo chair, then?" he said, his voice bright. An elbow jabbed in her arm to emphasise the 'hilarious' joke he'd made only served to annoy her.
"Julie," she said in a flat voice. If he could lose a few letters of her name, she would happily mislay some of his.
His face dropped and he turned away from her. She was happy with that. Even though he was in close proximity, he was quiet. That was all she needed. The rain held her attention. Julian held her dismissal. After a moment, he turned back to her.
"I'm only messing, you know?"
"I know," said Dorothy. "But if you can't take, don't give."
"What's made you so grumpy?"
"People who deliberately do things to people when they know they don't like them."
"Who would do...?" Julian paused. "Oh yeah." He hung his head, staring at his shoes. "Soz."
Dorothy relaxed. Julian couldn't help being an idiot. He was a clever boy, but didn't really know what to do with his intelligence and so wrapped it up in nonsense, hoping some meaning would walk into his life, take his hand and lead him on the correct path. Until that happened, he'd make do with fun, frolics and frowns from those he made the target of his jibes.
"Don't worry about it," she told him. "I just need to get to town and get home before this rain really kicks in."
"What you getting?"
"I need some new jeans. These have had it."
"I don't know," said Julian, shaking his head. "They look as if they've definitely still 'got it' on you."
Typical. Give the boy a chance and he had to resort to being a sexist pig like the rest of his gang at school. Why couldn't he just say 'Oh, cool.' or something and leave it at that? Why did he have to let his mind swim about in the gutter? He probably thought he was paying a compliment.
Well, thanks.
Really.
She sighed and turned back to the water streaming down the window. It looked as if she was already too late. The rain had kicked in and was not going to relent in its onslaught of the bus and its passengers. She realised that the top she was wearing should have been the coat her aunt had suggested. She'd get wet. She'd get cold. She turned to Julian, hoping he could redeem himself by being gallant.
"Lend me your coat, please?"
Julian looked past her at the weather. He pursed his lips, either because he was thinking about her request or for a kiss which was never going to come. Not from his present company, at least. His carefree attitude did work on some girls, Dorothy knew. Occasionally, she'd even catch herself falling under his spell. It was only ever a momentary lapse and she mentally slapped herself each time, in lieu of slapping him.
He looked back at her.
"Nah," he said. "I would but... nah."
He stood, realising the frosty reception he was receiving was not likely to thaw quickly. His winning ways did, on occasion, lose. You couldn't win 'em all. He'd sit elsewhere rather than constantly running against the brick wall of her stuck up...
The bus lurched, throwing Julian onto Dorothy's lap. Her head whipped sideways, slamming into the glass. Through the bright spots bursting in her eyes and the explosive stab of pain in her temple, she managed to push him off, cursing. He stumbled to his feet, mumbling apologies, trying to steady himself so he could make sure she was ok. The blood oozing from her head worried him. He wasn't used to being worried. Perhaps it was purely a touch of guilt for refusing her the loan of his coat. He was as unfamiliar with guilt as he was with concern. Such things were water from his duck's back. Or rain off the bus window.
The bus had skidded to a halt. The few other passengers aboard were similarly shaken, though it appeared Dorothy was the only one hurt.
"Is everyone all right?" shouted the driver. His head poked from behind his small cubicle where his chair, the wheel and his hidden-because-it-wasn't-allowed phone shared space. "A tree was just blown in front of the bus! The wind has picked up from nowhere!"
There were mutters and groans in reply. One man, larger than his clothes but not as big as his ego advanced on the driver, fist and teeth clenched.
"What the hell was that?" he bellowed. "Did you get your license from the back of a cereal pack? Cut out three tokens and send 'em off with a fiver? You coulda killed us!"
He reached the driver and raised his hand to grab the man who was scrambling to close the security door which prevented exactly the sort of attack that was imminent. As his shirt was taken in the passenger's grip, the bus was thrown to the side again, a car crashing into it head on.
The windscreen shattered, sending a spider's web of cracks across its surface. The impact separated the driver and his attacker, hurling them both backwards along with the others. The driver fell over his chair, the glass missing him completely. The other man's face hit the metal framework that was used to hold folded pushchairs. Blood sprayed from his broken nose, then spewed from the gashes as a thick branch smashing through the windscreen found a target. His back. His legs. His neck.
He slumped forwards. Two of his fellow passengers were screaming already. As he came to rest against the feet of a woman, just managing to hold her fear in check, her resolve snapped as easily as the bone in his nose. She vomited across his body and began to scream too.
Julian climbed next to Dorothy and took her in his arms. She didn't try to resist and pulled him closer. They huddled there, at the back, staring at the carnage before them. The dead man. The screaming couple. The now crying woman. The unconscious teenager and his frantic girlfriend, desperately trying to shake him awake.
Julian heard a sob and turned to Dorothy. She was still looking straight ahead, shock paralysing her. He realised the sound had come from himself.