Then it was time to get on the bus and ride home. In eighth and ninth grades I found it was more cool if I walked home instead of riding the bus, but for now I was perfectly content to ride home the two miles to my own street. A few weeks into school I was sitting on the bus waiting for it to leave. I was horrified and shocked to see come true a prediction my Dad had made to me. I saw a kid I had known in sixth grade walking along the parking. And he was smoking! My Dad had told me that I would see someone I knew start smoking in junior high.
The bus took us home on that first day. I had, what I came to call, the first-day-of-school-headache. But even though that first day was a bit traumatic in my life, it marked the beginning of three years of what eventually turned out to be a wonderful experience!
Coming Tomorrow: My Eagle Scout
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