Free The Wrong Bus by Lois Peterson Page A

passed. Then the Number 17.
    Maybe he could walk, he thought. His grandpa often walked him home from school. Jack knew the way.
    There was no number on the next bus. Jack stepped back. He expected it to pass by, headed for the depot. But it stopped in front of him.
    The doors wheezed open.
    The sun shone in Jack’s face. He couldn’t see the driver.
    â€œHop on, son,” a voice said.
    â€œThis is the wrong bus,” Jack said. “I need the Number 26.”
    â€œThis will do. Hop on, Jawbreaker.”
    Jawbreaker! Jack raced up the stairs. “Grandpa!”
    The doors wheezed shut behind him.
    â€œWho else?”
    â€œMom said you died.”
    â€œI did. But here I am. What a lark!”
    Jack didn’t know what to do. His grandpa had got sick. He was checked into the hospital. The hospital that was no place for an eight-year-old. So Jack hadn’t been able to visit him. Then his grandpa died. His body went to the funeral home. The funeral home that was no place for an eight-year-old. Then Jack’s mom left him at home while she went to the cemetery. The cemetery that was also no place for an eight-year-old.

    But here was Grandpa Nod!
    â€œYou’d better sit down,” his grandpa said. “You look a bit shaky. And we’re in for a heck of a ride.”
    â€œWhere are we going?” asked Jack.
    â€œHere, there and everywhere in between. A Magical Mystery Tour.”
    Jack grinned. It was just the kind of thing his grandpa always said. “Where are the other passengers?” he asked.
    â€œThey can get the next bus.” Grandpa Nod chuckled. “As you said, this is the wrong bus. For everyone but the two of us.” He put the bus in gear. “Sit down. It’s time to make a break for it.”
    Jack sat on the long seat. He could watch his grandpa from there. He wrapped his hands tight around the silver pole.
    The bus went through the intersection instead of turning right. “You’re going the wrong way,” Jack said.
    â€œIt’s the wrong bus. Of course it’s going the wrong way. Did you eat your lunch? ” Grandpa asked.
    â€œI wasn’t hungry.”
    â€œGood-oh!” said Grandpa. “All the more for me.”
    Grandpa Nod drove the bus past the park. He turned onto a side street.
    â€œYou’re going the wrong way,” Jack said. “The sign says One Way Only .”
    â€œMy bus doesn’t care about signs,” said Grandpa.
    He stopped beside a very tall building.
    Emergency Department was written across the big windows. “It says No Parking ,” said Jack. “Why are we here?”
    Grandpa turned the engine off. He stood up. “Come on, Tic Tac. Let’s go walkabout.”

    Jack held his grandfather’s hand. It was cool as a breeze and light as a feather.
    They left the bus on the yellow line and walked through the doors into the hospital.
    The hall was long and narrow. People in white coats hurried in both directions.
    Jack waited beside his grandfather in front of an elevator. “It says Staff Only ,” said Jack.
    â€œIt makes no nevermind to us,” said Grandpa. The doors opened. Grandpa Nod winked at the lady on the gurney. Jack smiled at the porter holding an IV pole. But no one smiled back.
    â€œHit the button. We want the fifth floor,” said Grandpa.
    When they arrived, Jack and his grandfather waited until the gurney was rolled out. Jack didn’t feel a thing as the wheels rolled over his feet. His grandfather didn’t flinch when the porter bumped into him. “This-a-way,” said Grandpa. They walked down another long hallway. It was lined with trolleys, bins and medical equipment.
    Grandpa pushed open the swinging doors that said No Entry . He led Jack past racks of blankets and carts loaded with bottles and basins. Everyone was too busy to notice them.
    They stopped at Room 148.
    Grandpa peered through a glass window in the middle of the