I rode a school bus from 3rd grade until midway through 11th grade. Sometimes the bus was noisy, hot, or crowded but it was never bad except for a few weeks during 7th grade.

I was a painfully shy 12-year-old. I often had to sit next to one boy whose name I actually don’t remember. I’ll call him Harold.

After maybe the second time we sat next to each other, Harold started making mean little comments. Once he told me I smelled funny and then said it loudly enough for others to hear. I actually smelled the odor too that day, but I know it wasn’t me. I was still embarrassed though.

As the days went on, he started making rude and sort of lewd comments about me being a girl. I would just sit there, frozen. I didn’t say anything and tried to ignore him.
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