The bus driver notices a CRYING girl every day, looks under the SEAT after getting off and FAILS at what he sees…

No need for that, she insisted, her voice rising slightly. It’s nothing big. School’s just been hard, and I miss my friends from my previous school.

Walter studied her face, uncertain. His decades of life experience told him there was more to the story, but he didn’t want to push too hard and scare her. I understand, he said, but sometimes it helps to—- The front door of the house swung open suddenly, cutting him off.

A man stepped out onto the porch, his expression impassive. Rory, he called sharply. Come inside.

Rory shot Walter a look that seemed almost pleading before rushing toward the house. Her footsteps hurried across the concrete walkway. The man’s attention turned to Walter.

Is there a problem? he asked, his tone neutral but somehow unwelcoming. Walter hesitated for a moment before deciding to approach. He walked up the path toward the porch, stopping a respectful distance away.

No problem, sir, Walter said. I’m Walter Harmon, Rory’s bus driver. I just wanted to check in because I’ve noticed she seems upset on the ride home lately.

The man’s expression didn’t change. I’m Greg Whitmore, Rory’s stepfather, he said. Her mother isn’t home right now.

Walter nodded. I just wanted to let you know that Rory’s been crying on the bus. I was concerned something might be troubling her.

Greg’s face softened slightly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. Her grandmother passed away recently, he explained. It’s been hard on all of us, but especially on Rory.

They were close. She’ll get over it, hopefully. I’m very sorry to hear that, Walter said, feeling a twinge of relief that there was an explanation.

Please accept my condolences. I didn’t mean to intrude. Thanks, Greg said, already turning away.

Have a good day. Before Walter could finish wishing them a good evening in return, the door closed with a decisive click. Walking back to his bus, Walter couldn’t shake a nagging feeling of unease.

The stepfather’s explanation made sense, but something about his demeanor felt off. There was no trace of grief in his voice when he mentioned the grandmother’s death, and he had seemed awfully quick to dismiss Walter. Maybe I’m overthinking it, Walter muttered to himself as he climbed back into the driver’s seat.

Man could just be busy or private. Still, as he started the engine and pulled away from the curb, the image of Rory’s pleading look stayed with him. Walter drove the bus back to the station, navigating the familiar streets on autopilot while his mind remained preoccupied with Rory.

The afternoon sun was beginning to descend, casting long shadows across the neighborhood as he pulled into the school bus depot. After parking in his designated spot, Walter began his end-of-day routine. He walked the length of bus, checking each seat for forgotten items and collecting the inevitable assortment of trash, crumpled homework assignments, empty chip bags, and half-finished water bottles.

He placed each item into the garbage bag he always kept on hand, moving methodically from the back of the bus toward the front. When he reached the front seats, Walter paused. This was where Rory had been sitting, right above the air vent.

He recalled the clang he’d heard and her hurried explanation about dropping a tissue. Looking at the seat now, he realized he hadn’t seen her with any tissues when she left the bus. Maybe she’d put it in her pocket, but Walter’s instincts told him to investigate further.

He crouched down, his knees protesting with a dull ache. The floor around the seat appeared clean, no tissues or obvious debris. Walter’s attention turned to the air vent itself.

It was securely fastened to the floor, but as he examined it more closely, he noticed a small gap between the vent and the seat base. Let’s see what we have here, he murmured, reaching his fingers into the narrow space. His fingertips brushed against something smooth and unfamiliar.

With some effort, Walter managed to extract a small plastic package. When he pulled it out into the light, his breath caught in his throat. It was a blister pack of pink pills, partially used.

Walter turned it over in his hand, studying the unfamiliar medication. The brand name was printed on the back, along with dosage information. What in the world? Walter pulled out his phone and quickly searched for the drug name online.

His eyes widened as he read the search results. They were pregnancy prevention pills, birth control. Walter sat heavily in the driver’s seat, staring at the package in his hand.

A 14 or 15 year old girl was hiding birth control pills under her seat on the school bus. Combined with her crying and withdrawn behavior, it painted a concerning picture. Walter took several photos of the pills with his phone, carefully documenting what he’d found and where.

Then he tucked the pills into his waste bag, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. This wasn’t something he could ignore. With slightly trembling fingers, Walter located the principal’s contact information in his phone and attached the photos to a message.

Found these hidden under a seat on my bus today. They belong to a student. Please advise on next steps.

After sending the message, Walter waited a moment, but no immediate response came. Growing increasingly anxious, he decided to call the principal directly. After three rings, a terse voice answered.

This is Principal Daniels. Hello, sir. This is Walter Harmon, bus driver for Route 14…