Seeing my father again was something I did not expect, but it did not really change my life all that much. Other than knowing for sure that he was out of prison, he was not really part of my life. After that weekend, we went back to the Children's home and back to a routine. Each day started just as the day before, and continued as the day before and ended as the day before. Saturdays were spent cleaning the cottage, walking into the tiny town, getting ready for Sunday, visiting with the other girls and watching tv. Sundays were spent going to church in the morning, coming home for Sunday dinner and waiting for someone to come and visit. I didn't count on someone coming to visit, so I spent my afternoon doing homework and being with my little cat. Ah, routine. This was a time in the school year, early in winter that was just before the holidays started and a pleasant expected routine brought comfort and security. Little events spiced up the days, small things that gave me something to talk about, but for the most of it, life was quiet and uneventful. Of course I looked forward to the holidays, perhaps this year my father would be there for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Once in awhile something happened that shook me up, I guess fate has a sense of humor. One such incident happened on an early frosty morning. We had boarded the school bus for the long drive into Hapeville, and were talking and just being teenagers. We had bundled up for the cold, and since it was one of the first really cold days of the season, the conversation was mostly about the weather. That day, the temperature hovered just below freezing and a light sleeting rain fell quietly. Before we knew it, we were at school and getting off the bus. The bus let us out a distance from the doors, in an open parking lot that prohibited other cars from parking there. I remember turning my head to say something to someone, stepping down from the high bus steps and slipping. I fell quiet hard, but I also slid under the bus when I fell. I hit my head on the pavement, and was stunned for a moment. I didn't know what had happened, but soon I realized that I had fallen and was under the bus near the engine. I clearly remember the feeling of cold that permeated my legs and arms as I lay on the icy pavement. It was dark under there and the fumes from the engine were very strong. I thought to myself that it was funny how much head room there is under a bus. Then, in a second of panic, I knew that if I didn't get out from under the bus, I would be run over and crushed when it started up and left again. I tried to wiggle out the way I had slid under, but could not get any traction. I heard someone ask where I had gone. I yelled that I was under the bus, but I guess the noise from the engine was louder than me. Time seemed to crawl as I began to panic. Then, I got an inspiration. I took my book bag by the handle and swung it over my head out from under the edge of the bus. Lucky for me, the book bag hit the foot of one of the kids and they looked down to see why. Squatting down, he saw me under the bus and began to scream, "don't take off! Jodie is under the bus!" I heard the brakes as they were applied with a whoosh and squeal and then saw many faces peering at me in wonder.
The questions flew hard and fast. "What happened? What are you doing under the bus? Did you fall? Are you hurt?" The bus driver had leapt from the bus and reached under to help me. She grabbed my hand and pulled, and I slid toward her as easily as I had slid under the bus. Her face was white as chalk and she looked like she was going to have a heart attack. I was certainly the center of attention as I tried to stand and show everyone that I was alright. The bus driver as so anxious, and hugged me in relief. In those days, if you felt alright then you were. None of this "off to the hospital just to check you out" stuff. Believe it or not, I gathered my bookbag, laughed at everyone's concern and walked right into school. Other than being damp and cold and having a slight headache, I was no worse for the experience. Looking back, I know that I had a really close call, but as in every other trial in my life, it turned out alright and I have a great story to tell about it. One really great bonus to this event was that Coach Denning came up to me later and asked me if I was okay. My heart fluttered with joy that he would even care that I had almost been crushed. That alone was worth being slammed to the icy pavement, hitting my head and sliding under a running bus! Oh, the joys of youth!