Infandum Renovare Dolorem

(Or To Renew the Unspeakable Grief – from the Aeneid)

    Lanie shivered as she pulled her jacket tight across her chest. January in Ohio can be bitter. Frost had crystallized the grass, which crunched under her feet as she walked toward the bus stop. Each step was a little more sluggish than the one before. She didn't really dislike school; she just had an aversion to the sophomoric antics of the wild students on the school bus.
    Lanie was the only senior who rode the bus. Others either drove themselves or rode with friends. That's one of the pathetic aspects of being the new girl – very few friends yet. Her father had just retired from the military and this venture into civilian life was difficult for all of them. Saying good-bye to people is always traumatic, but within the military community it is simply a part of life. So is being new. Everybody is at one time or another, and transitions are rather fluid. Coming to rural Ohio meant trying to slip into an environment that was more like concrete; one is the "new girl" for years, not just days or weeks.

Cottony flakes lighted on the wool scarf that scratched against her cheek. Her breath escaped in a billowy fog as she stamped her feet trying to keep warm. She was alone in the velvety morning darkness. Her oblivious tormenters usually arrived just as the bus was pulling up. This morning a car slowly approached the bus stop, a dented Ford Pinto, its one headlight cutting a swatch of dim light through the softly falling snow. It stopped and its driver slowly cracked the window.
    "Do you want a ride?"
    Lani peered in to see who might be her temporary savior. It was Brenda Miller, the pariah of Edgewood High School. Her unruly black curls framed a face marred by acne and her hazel eyes were magnified by the Coke bottle glasses that sat on the bridge of her slightly greasy nose. Lani could see her momentary discomfort register on the girl's face as Brenda scowled and looked out the front window, her hands with their chewed down nails tightening their grip on the steering wheel. She felt a twinge of guilt and quickly glanced around to see if anyone noticed the car idling in front of her. The street was still sleepy and deserted. Before she had a chance to change her mind, Lani plunged forward with, "Yes, Brenda. Thank you." She hurried around to the passenger side, hoping that there were no eyes peering through the curtained windows of the nearby houses.
    Once Lani was seated, Brenda became animated. Finding a common ground in a shared class, she started ranting. "I really hate Mr. Moyer's class. He gave me a D last semester. Who cares about US government anyway? It's not like I'm ever going to be a judge or senator or president or something like that. Why does he have to make his stupid tests so hard? I think that Steve Daniels is kind of cute, don't you? Too bad he likes Marcy Peterson. She is so stuck up. I hate cheerleaders.
I tried out for cheerleading in 7^th grade but I didn't make it. I was just as good as those other girls. I know it's just because they don't like me."
    While the tirade continued, Lani focused on the window, worried that someone would see her in the car. What had she gotten herself into? How would she escape unnoticed once they pulled into the school parking lot? Maybe it was still early enough that most of the students would not have arrived yet. She already regretted her momentary lapse of judgment as Brenda continued to assault her with a list of injustices.
        What is that up there? A school bus? You have got to be kidding me. Please God, please, please, please don't let anyone see me in this car!

    Lani sunk deeper into the cracked upholstery and edged further against the door. her nose almost pressed against the frosty glass. She continued her make shift prayer, invoking St. Jude, the patron saint of lost causes.
      Brenda braked suddenly and the car skidded across the ice. Lani's reverie was broken. She glanced up just as the sound of metal crushing against metal rang in her ears. Brenda had driven into the back of the bus. With both vehicles stopped, the bus driver tramped toward the car, his brow knotted. Windows opened as adolescent heads peered out, curiosity and excitement replacing lethargic stupor. Lani heard their snickering as they realized who had rear-ended the bus. She sank lower into her seat, hoping to be invisible.

Finally the words she dreaded came. "Hey, isn't that the new girl?"