The bus jolted and rocked up the narrow drive. All around them kids shrieked and screamed as if they were on a roller coaster ride. Every few feet, a tree scraped against the side of the bus, poking its branches through any open windows, and boys would grab them and hold on until they had a handful of stripped leaves which they tossed in the air as they reached for the next intruding bough. Hannah couldn’t believe the chaos. Their formerly strict bus driver had turned into Mr. Softee, only without the bell and ice cream.
Soon enough, though, the road curved to the right and down, and several cabins and a small lake emerged brown and blue from the green. The bus pulled to a stop on a circular driveway with a flagpole at the center. All the children stood up, gathering their things quickly and pressing toward the aisle. The bus driver did not move. “I don’t know where ya’ll think you’re going,” he said. The folding door remained closed. The cloud of dust that they had kicked up on their way into the drive billowed in the air outside, and Hannah could see nothing out the window.
As they stood there, eight figures appeared out of the gloom. Had they been standing there al along, Hannah wondered, or did they just get here? The door to the bus opened then, and the line of kids moved forward.
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