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

The principal’s sigh was audible through the phone. Mr. Harmon, I’m currently in a meeting with the school board. Is this urgent? I believe it is, sir.

I just sent you some photos. I haven’t had a chance to check my messages. Principal Daniels cut in, his voice strained with impatience.

How important could it be that it can’t wait until after my meeting? Walter hesitated, unsure how much to say over the phone. I found something concerning on the bus that belongs to one of your students. I think you should take a look as soon as possible.

I’ll look at whatever you sent after my meeting, the principal responded, his tone making it clear the conversation was over. I don’t like to be disturbed unless there’s a genuine emergency. The call ended abruptly, leaving Walter staring at his phone in frustration.

He had expected more urgency from the principal, especially given the nature of his discovery. Guess I’ll have to handle this myself for now, Walter muttered, pocketing his phone and gathering his belongings. Walter returned the bus key at the station office, clocked out and headed to the parking lot where his old Buick waited.

The car had seen better days. The blue paint was fading and there was a persistent rattle in the engine, but it had been with him for 15 years and still ran reliably enough. As he pulled out of the station, Walter’s mind churned with indecision.

He knew his route home would take him right past Rory’s house. Part of him felt compelled to stop there again to show the stepfather what he’d found and ensure the girl was safe. But the memory of Greg Whitmore’s dismissive attitude gave him pause.

Maybe he doesn’t even know, Walter reasoned aloud as he drove. Could be the girls taking them in secret. He passed the turnoff to Maple Drive, where Rory’s house stood, then slowed his car, conscience nagging at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he made a U-turn at the next intersection and headed back. Pulling up in front of the modest blue house, Walter took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He wasn’t looking forward to another interaction with Greg Whitmore, but his concern for Rory outweighed his discomfort.

He approached the door and knocked firmly. No response came. He waited a reasonable interval before knocking again, this time a bit louder.

Still nothing. Walter peered through the front window. The house was dark inside, no signs of movement or life.

It appeared no one was home, despite it being less than an hour since he’d dropped Rory off. Returning to his car, Walter pulled out the emergency contact list he kept for all the students on his route. He located Rory’s information and found the contact number listed under Greg Whitmore’s name.

He dialed the number, but after several rings it went to voicemail. Strange, Walter muttered, hanging up without leaving a message. Where could they have gone so quickly? With a sigh, he started his car again and continued his journey home.

He had done what he could for now. Perhaps the principal would call him back soon, or he could try contacting Rory’s family again later. Walter had driven only a few miles when he spotted a familiar figure emerging from the pharmacy on Cedar Street.

It was Rory, walking alone. She looked miserable, one arm wrapped around her stomach, as if in pain. Without thinking twice, Walter pulled over to the curb and got out of his car.

Rory, he called softly, not wanting to startle her. The girl looked up, surprise and weariness crossing her face when she recognized him. She stopped walking, but maintained her distance.

Are you all right? Walter asked, noticing her pallid complexion. You look like you’re in pain. I’m fine, she said flatly, though her posture suggested otherwise.

Walter glanced around. Where’s your stepfather? Did he drop you off here? That’s not your business, Rory replied, her voice hardening. What do you want from me? Walter raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture.

I’m just concerned about you, that’s all. I’ve been driving school buses for years, and I can tell when a student is having a tough time. Rory shifted uncomfortably, clutching her stomach tighter.

I said I’m fine. Please leave me alone. Before Walter could respond, a middle-aged couple walking past slowed their pace, looking between him and Rory with concern.

Everything okay here? the man asked, directing the question to Rory. The girl hesitated, then said in a quiet voice, He scares me. The couple immediately stepped between Walter and Rory, their posture protective.

Sir, I think you should leave, the woman said firmly. Walter felt his face flush with embarrassment and frustration. I’m her school bus driver.

I was just checking if she needed help. She clearly doesn’t want your help, the man replied. Move along before we call the police.

Seeing no way to explain himself without making the situation worse, Walter reluctantly returned to his car. As he pulled away from the curb, he glanced in his rearview mirror and saw that the couple had already continued walking, leaving Rory alone once again. He slowed his car, watching as Rory suddenly bent over a nearby garbage bin and retched violently.

Something is very wrong here, Walter muttered, feeling increasingly troubled. His first instinct was to call the police, but what would he tell them? That a girl said she was scared of him? That he found birth control pills and now she was throwing up? He had no concrete evidence of any immediate danger, and involving the authorities without talking to the parents first could create unnecessary problems. Walter decided to keep an eye on Rory from a distance.

He parked his car across the street, feeling uncomfortable about essentially stalking a young girl, but convinced that his intentions were pure. If he saw anything truly alarming, he would intervene. From his vantage point, Walter watched as Rory composed herself and walked unsteadily toward a small liquor store at the end of the block.

She disappeared inside and Walter waited, occasionally checking his phone for any response from the principal. After about ten minutes, movement at the store caught Walter’s attention. Rory emerged, but she wasn’t alone.

Greg Whitmore followed her out, turning to lock the door behind him and flip the sign from open to closed. Walter realized that Greg must own or work at the liquor store, explaining why he hadn’t been home earlier. The two walked to a sedan parked nearby…