Blue Bus, True Bus

Every morning the blue bus hummed down Maple Street, as friendly as a big bumblebee. Its doors sighed, "Psssh," and its wipers whispered, "Swish-swish." Driver Gus wore a stripey hat and a smile that crinkled his cheeks.

"Good morning, Blue Bus! Good morning, Gus!" said Taye, climbing on with his backpack.

"Good morning, helper!" said Driver Gus. "Find your seat and count the stops for me. We’ll make this town dance on time."

Taye liked the soft, bouncy seats that were the color of toast. He liked the view from the window—birds on the wires, a bakery cat in the window, the red mailbox at the corner. He especially liked the shiny yellow stop cord that ran along the wall. If you pulled it, a ding would sing.

Today, the bus picked up Mrs. Bloom with her flowers. It picked up Mr. Park with his lunchbox. It picked up Lila and her dad, who carried a folded scooter.

The blue bus rolled and hummed, and Taye counted, "One stop…two stops…three—" His sleeve snagged the cord. Ding! The little light blinked. The bus began to slow.

Taye’s tummy made a tiny flip-flop. "Oh," he whispered, looking at the light. "I didn’t mean to do that."

He slid his hand under the seat to hide his face, and his fingers touched something smooth. He pulled out a green card on a string. It had a picture and the word PASS in big letters.

Taye looked at the card. He looked at the blinking light. The bus hissed toward the curb. Mrs. Bloom gathered her flowers. Mr. Park shifted his lunchbox. Lila’s dad folded the scooter even smaller.

Taye stood up on his toes and hurried to the front. "Gus," he said, his voice small but brave, "I made the bus ding by accident. I’m sorry. I don’t need to get off yet. And… I found this under the seat."

Driver Gus peeked at the light and the card. His eyes twinkled. He tapped a little button. The light stopped blinking, and the bus kept rolling smooth. "Thank you for telling me the truth, Taye," he said, not too loud, just warm. "Truth helps me steer. And that pass—let’s see who’s missing it."

He turned in his seat and called, "Did anyone lose a green bus pass?"

Mr. Park patted his pockets. His eyes grew big. "Oh! That’s mine! I thought I left it on the kitchen table."

Taye held out the pass. Mr. Park took it with both hands. "Thank you, thank you," he said. "Now my ride home won’t be trouble."

The blue bus purred along, happy as a cat in the sun. The bakery cat watched from the window. The wipers were quiet now. Taye slid back into his seat, his cheeks warm but light as feathers.

At Maple and Pine, Mrs. Bloom waved as she stepped off. At Cedar and Oak, Lila and her dad dinged on purpose, and the bus eased to the curb like a bow.

Driver Gus glanced at Taye in the mirror. "Helper," he said, "would you like to call the next stop when you’re sure?"

Taye nodded. He watched the street names and counted in his head. "Not yet… not yet… now!" He tugged the cord gently. Ding!

The bus stopped at the right place, and the doors said, "Psssh." Taye smiled at the sound. It was like the bus was happy too.

When it was Taye’s turn to get off, he stood by the front and said, "Gus? Today I told you two things. One was a mistake, and one was a find."

"Both were true," said Driver Gus. "That’s how we keep the Blue Bus rolling right—true words, steady wheels. See you tomorrow, helper."

Taye skipped down the steps. The blue bus hummed away down Maple Street. The world felt big and bright and honest, like clean windows after rain.