Autobiography: Friday 6 September: wrong bus what a fuss
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Friday 06, September
When I got on the bus, I had no idea of what I was getting myself
into. I was like a mouse walking right into a trap. I took a seat in the
back and looked outside. As I watched the trees and houses flash by I
thought about yesterday when I had had a half day of school, but no
classes.
I only noticed something was wrong when the bus turned down the
wrong street in Meylan. Soon the bus reached its destination, the
Rondeau. Oops! I had taken the wrong bus.
After I called my dad and he said he’d come and get me, I sat down
to read my very good book to cheer me up, and hoped I wouldn’t be
late.
My dad came ten minutes later and as he drove me to school I kept
worrying and worrying and worrying. Would I be late? Would the teacher
be mad at me? WHAT WOULD HAPPEN?
My dad left my at the entrance to the school. At study hall, I told them
why I was late, and they gave me a "autorisation"
ticket, but wouldn’t let me go to my locker! AND I DIDN’T HAVE MY MATH
SUPPLIES! WHAT SHOULD I DO? I did the only thing to do, I went in
class.
The rest of the day past in a blur and about all I can remember is
that I loved the lunch food and that Mr. Mompas (my math teacher) didn’t
punish me.
When I got home, I sat down, read my book, and felt relieved that it
was the weekend. I fell asleep instantly.