Hope

A gust of wind whips my black hair viciously across my face as the faded school bus grinds to a slow halt in front of me. The doors slide open with a hiss as I carefully step onto the bus, nodding at the driver before making my way down the narrow aisle. The grimy floor is covered in low-slung rucksacks and broken satchels, all tired and tatty, as if to match the looks of their owners. Keeping my eyes low, I pick my way through, placing each one of my scruffy sneakers down cautiously, taking care not to trip. I hear Sam’s unique laughter fill the air from the back and feel a painful stab of sadness in my burning chest. I once knew him so well, but things changed and although every day I hope he’ll look at me and at least give an acknowledging smile, he never will.
I know exactly where to sit; it’s where we always sit. By ‘we’, I mean us, the Asians. We’re right behind the Polish kids, on the fourth row. It’s our place, our land, our territory. See, that’s how it works around here. Territory is the most important word you’ll come across in our world. Everyone belongs in their own group no matter where we are, whether it’s in class, at breaks, on the bus or even outside school. Anyone trying to mess up our system is heading for trouble and they know it.
Sinking into the damp seat, I swing my bag under my feet. After exchanging a few nods with my friends, I place my earphones into my ear, increasing the volume to drown out everyone else. I repeat this monotonous sequence of actions every morning; I get on, make my way to my seat, turn up my tunes and silently observe everyone around me, in their separate groups, leading lives in entirely different ways while doing everything in their power to ensure that no one tips the balance amongst us all. You’re probably wondering what this invisible line, drawn so intricately between us, forcing us into these diverse sects, is? Well it’s one word that’s bigger and better than all of us, one word that means more than anything.