The Second Life That Saved Me But My Parent Were Arrested

“It’s way too hot, and my classmates have been waiting on the bus for ages,” I said. “I want to treat them to some drinks.”

The driver raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word. Instead, the store owner leaned across the counter, eyeing me curiously.

“You got enough money for that?”

“I do.”

I pulled out the hundred-dollars bill with an innocent smile.

“My mom gave it to me before I left—just in case.”

The driver and the store owner exchanged a quick, silent glance.

The store owner nodded and pointed to the corner of the shop.

“The water’s over there. Go get it yourself.”

I shook my head.

“Sir, can I have a cardboard box? I want to buy the ones in the refrigerator.”

He bent down, grabbed an empty box, and tossed it over to me.

“Thanks!” I said quickly, and ran to the fridge to start filling it with cold drinks.

As I packed the box, I overheard the store owner whispering to the driver behind me.

“You think this girl’s genuinely kind-hearted, or...?”

The driver lit a cigarette and let out a soft chuckle.

“Who knows? Every year there’s always someone who thinks they’re clever—until they realize it was all for nothing.”

They both laughed quietly.

My hand froze mid-air. I glanced back but said nothing. Then I dropped the last two bottles of soda into the box.

Back on the bus, I walked down the aisle, handing out drinks.

“Sir,” I said to the driver, offering him a cold soda, “thank you—for taking me to buy a pen and for driving us here.”

He looked at me, didn’t say a word, then reached into the box and grabbed a different bottle.

I gave an awkward smile and continued passing out drinks to the other students.

The rest of the ride was calm—until we neared the exam site.

Suddenly, the driver’s face turned pale. He slammed on the brakes.

In the front seat, Maria Quinn leaned forward.

“Sir, what’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.

The driver gritted his teeth, hesitated a moment, then said,

“Nothing.”

He restarted the engine, but less than two minutes later, he pulled over again and unbuckled his seatbelt in frustration.

“Stay in the bus. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He jumped out of the vehicle and disappeared into the woods.

I looked away, letting my gaze fall to the digital clock on the dashboard.

2:20 p.m.

When the driver returned and climbed back into the bus, the timing was—perfect.

We entered the city, the streets growing denser, the traffic heavier.

As we turned onto Maple Road, red lights blinked from all directions.

Without hesitation, the driver stepped hard on the accelerator.

I gripped the front seat tight, my eyes fixed on the countdown clock flashing on the screen.

Here it comes!

A red sports car came out of nowhere—screeching past from the side.

The sound of metal grinding.

A sudden jolt.

Glass exploded from the front windshield, shards flying everywhere.

Even though I’d braced myself, I was still thrown forward by the impact. My body slammed into the front seat, hard.

My head buzzed. I gasped for air.

As the world slowly came back into focus, I stumbled to my feet and moved toward the front.

The driver was slumped over the wheel, blood trickling from his forehead.

I shook his arm—nothing.

Quickly, I reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

Luna Madison, her arm bleeding, hurried over to me in a panic.

“Camila, is the driver dead? What do we do?”

I sneered.

“Better if he is.”

The bus went completely silent.

All eyes turned to me, wide and stunned.

I ignored them, pushed past Luna, and climbed out through the shattered window.

Outside, a crowd had already gathered.

Strangely, no one looked surprised.

They caught me gently as I dropped down and quietly set me aside.