As I drove home through the heavy rain, it felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on me. Today had been one of the hardest days of my life. First, my fiancé had called off our wedding, and now I had lost my job. My chest tightened with a mix of fear and sadness as I gripped the steering wheel, trying to keep my thoughts from spiraling out of control.
“Stay calm, Mollie,” I whispered to myself. “When one door closes, another opens, right?” But the words felt hollow and meaningless. How could I go home and tell Mom I’d been laid off? She’d be so worried. Ever since Dad passed away, she had been my rock, and now I was going to let her down.
My phone buzzed for what felt like the hundredth time—it was Mom again. I pulled over to the side of the road, rain streaking down the windows, and answered. “Hey, Mom, I’ll be home in about ten minutes.”
“Honey, the weather looks bad. Please be careful,” she urged.
I swallowed hard, feeling a lump in my throat. The storm outside was nothing compared to the one raging inside me. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “See you soon.”
As I hung up, the ache in my chest grew heavier. I merged back into traffic, wiping the fog from the windshield with my sleeve. That’s when I saw it—a school bus driving past me. In the back window, a little girl was banging on the glass, her face pressed against it, tears streaming down her cheeks.
My heart stopped. “What on earth…?” Without thinking, I hit the gas and sped up to catch the bus. Panic filled my mind as I wondered what could be wrong with the child. I honked the horn over and over, but the driver didn’t seem to notice. I had no choice—I swerved in front of the bus, forcing it to come to a screeching stop in the middle of the road.
The driver, a big man with a thick mustache, jumped out, looking furious. “Lady, what’s your problem? You could’ve caused an accident!”
Ignoring him, I pushed past and ran onto the bus. The noise hit me like a wave—kids laughing, shouting, completely unaware of the little girl’s distress. I rushed to the back, where she sat alone, red-faced and struggling to breathe.
“Oh my God, are you having an asthma attack?” I asked, kneeling beside her. The little girl, who I later found out was named Chelsea, nodded frantically, gasping for air. I asked where her inhaler was, but she couldn’t speak. Desperate, I turned to the bus driver. “Do you know where her inhaler is?”
The driver’s face went pale. “I didn’t even know she was in trouble. It’s so loud back here…”
Frustrated, I searched through her backpack—nothing. Chelsea’s lips were turning blue. I shouted for help, but the other kids just laughed, thinking it was some kind of game.
Then I realized what might have happened. I grabbed the backpacks of the kids sitting near her, ignoring their angry protests. After searching a few bags, I finally found it—a blue inhaler with Chelsea’s name on it. I turned to the boy whose bag it was. “Why do you have this?” I demanded.
“It was just a joke,” he mumbled, looking down.
“A joke? She could have died!” I shouted, not wasting another second. I ran back to Chelsea, helping her use the inhaler. Slowly, her breathing steadied, and color began to return to her face. I held her hand, whispering comforting words as she calmed down.
The bus driver stood there, wringing his hands, clearly shaken. “I’m so sorry… I had no idea…”
I glared at him, feeling my anger bubbling over. “You should have checked when you heard something was wrong. These kids are your responsibility!”
Chelsea tugged gently at my sleeve, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”
Those two words hit me harder than anything else that day. I wasn’t about to leave her alone after what had just happened. “I’m staying with you until we get you home, okay?”
Chelsea nodded, managing a small smile. I told the driver I’d ride with her, and he quickly agreed. After I moved my car, I sat beside her, wrapping my arm protectively around her shoulders. The other kids, now silent, seemed to finally understand the seriousness of the situation.
“Why didn’t anyone help you?” I asked gently.
Chelsea looked down, her lip trembling. “They think it’s funny when I can’t breathe. They hide my inhaler sometimes.”
My heart ached for her. “That’s not funny, Chelsea. That’s bullying, and it’s not okay.”
She nodded, still looking at her hands. “I try to be brave, but I get so scared.”
I squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “You were brave today. You got my attention and saved yourself. That’s real courage.”
A soft smile formed on her lips. “Really?”
“Really. You’re one of the bravest people I know.”
A few stops later, Chelsea pointed out the window. “That’s my mommy and daddy!”
As the bus came to a stop, Chelsea’s parents rushed over, their faces filled with confusion and concern. “Chelsea, who’s this?” her mother asked, looking at me.
Chelsea smiled, her voice a little stronger now. “This is Mollie. She saved my life.”
As she explained what had happened, her parents’ faces changed from confusion to deep gratitude. “We don’t know how to thank you,” her father said, his voice thick with emotion.
“I’m just glad I was there,” I replied.
Chelsea’s mother, Mrs. Stewart, insisted on driving me back to my car. As we pulled up, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. “So, Mollie,” Mrs. Stewart asked, glancing over at me, “what do you do?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Funny you should ask. I lost my job today.”
Mrs. Stewart’s eyes widened in sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”
“I spoke up about some unethical practices at work. They didn’t like it, so they found an excuse to fire me.”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “My husband and I run a small business, and we might have an opening. Would you be interested in an interview?”
I blinked, hardly believing what I was hearing. “Are you serious?”
She smiled warmly. “Absolutely. Anyone who would go to such lengths to help a child is someone I’d want on my team.”
As I stepped out of the car, she handed me her business card. “Call me tomorrow,” she said kindly. “We’ll set something up.”
The next morning, I called Mrs. Stewart, and by the afternoon, I was sitting in her office for an interview. The chance for a fresh start filled me with a hope I hadn’t felt in a long time. Mom was right when she hugged me the night before, her eyes shining with pride as she said, “I always knew you were meant for great things.”
Maybe she was right. Saving Chelsea had changed something inside me, showing me that even on my worst day, I could still make a difference.