Chapter Three

The thrum of the school bus motor and the hum of the tires joined with the music in his head. Music. He decided that was what to call what he was hearing. Unlike any music he had ever heard, but like it in other ways.

The bus driver had pulled to a stop beside him. He could see the kids peering out the window at him, laughing and whispering to each other.

“Done running, son?” Mr. Johnson had called out as the door opened. The words came from somewhere below or behind the bushy grey mustache that tried to hide a teasing grin.

“Yeah. I guess so.” Timmy hung his head, embarrassed.

“Sometimes a man just needs to run, but he also needs to get to school, eh Timmy?” He closed the door as Timmy reached the top step.

“Uh-huh.” He looked up into the kind eyes of the man most kids called “Gramps”. Some made it a joke, laughing disrespectfully at a man they saw as too old to drive, but some kids secretly wished they had a Grandpa like Mr. Johnson.

Timmy had never really been sure how to think of him until today, but looked at Gramps and smiled, letting the music lull him into a sleep that ended when the squeal of the brakes indicated that the ride was over.