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// Chapter 2: Bus Stop 
// Story: There's a Monster Pony Outside My Window 
// by Halira 
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Morning came, and so did the rush to get the kids fed and off to school. The school was about a mile away, and the girls usually walked to school together. It was safe enough during the daylight hours, and as long as they didn't go wandering off on any side streets. Charles was out the door before the kids were. It was always organized chaos, and it never got any easier. 

Yet, each day they somehow managed it, and each day Wendy found herself waiting at the bus stop to go to work. They only had one car, and Charles didn't get a work van for his job, so he needed to take the car each day—aside from the occasional vacation day he took. 

The bus stop wasn't far from the house. All the streets in the neighborhood were laid out in straight lines on a grid. There were always ten houses going down the length of each longitudinal side of each road between intersections. The latitudinal streets only had the corner houses of each street along them, with a dirt alleyway between each street just wide enough for the trash truck to make it down. There were four latitudinal streets between each major road, and their house was luckily only one such street away from Montview, which was a major road and had a bus stop right there.

Wendy sat waiting on the bench, flipping through a Reader's Digest to pass the time, when a shadow passed over her. 

"Mind if I sit here?"

Wendy looked up to see the woman who had been sitting on the porch across the street, clad in blue jeans and a worn-out-looking t-shirt that read The Simpsons and had badly drawn yellow family on it. Who or what The Simpsons were, Wendy was clueless. Perhaps they were a band? She doubted it was a show, as the woman standing before her looked a little old to be watching cartoons, about twenty years older than Wendy. 

Wendy scooted over quickly to make room. "Of course. Bench belongs to everyone, after all. I'm Wendy Portsmith. I think we're neighbors. I believe I spotted you sitting on your front porch last night. I live just across the street."

The woman sat and smiled as she nodded. "I did indeed just move in. I'm Miss Newman, just Miss Newman; I don't use my first name much."

"Any kids or a Mister Newman?" Wendy asked, fishing for information about her new neighbor. 

Miss Newman shook her head. "I have three sons and two daughters, but all but my youngest son are grown, and he is currently staying with friends for a few weeks. I also have three granddaughters, a grandson, and,  last I counted, two great-grandsons —although I never know when another might be on the way. No significant other. I'm a widow and have been for years."

Wendy gasped, tacking on another ten years to her estimate of the woman's age, although she didn't look that old. "That must be quite the age spread among your children if you have one kid that is still a kid while I'm guessing your eldest is now a grandparent. And you say you have been a widow for years? I don't think I could manage to raise such a large family on my own like that."

"I adopted four of my five, and my eldest daughter was already grown and out of the house before that happened," Miss Newman explained. "It was a tribulation at times, especially since I was widowed before taking on those four, but I had plenty of help. But enough about me. I believe I spotted some toys on your front porch. I'm guessing you have at least one."

"I have three little girls," Wendy gushed. "They can be a handful since they love to fight with one another relentlessly, but they are all very smart and creative. I am sure that all three will end up going to college when they get older and be much more successful than me. I work retail, and it is miserable, I'll tell you. My husband, Charles, has better work; he's an electrician. What kind of work do you do, or are you retired?"

Miss Newman seemed to think about how to answer. "I'm a researcher, although I won't bore you with the details. Let's call me a sociologist. Almost everything you'll find at my house is books and files. I was previously involved in politics and church work, but those days are behind me and not worth talking about."

Wendy was unsure what to make of that. Politics and church work could cover a large number of things, and Miss Newman didn't seem to want to discuss the subject. Maybe it was best to drop that part of the conversation. 

"Well, I hope you enjoy living in the neighborhood," Wendy said. "You do need to be careful, though. This area has a lot of gang activity. Don't wear anything bright red or bright blue. Some of these teenage thugs take it the wrong way. I'd stay inside at night too. They like to harass people they come across at night just because they can. The police don't even come down our way at night—everyone on our street kind of looks out for one another instead. I'm sure the Westoffs will want to have a barbeque since you moved in. They kinda take that on themselves. It gives everyone a chance to meet the new neighbor and you a chance to meet all of us. They live two houses down in the house with the fenced-off front yard."

"That sounds lovely," Miss Newman replied. "I avoid most meats. They don't always agree with my gut at certain points in the day, but I can still stop by. I'm not too worried about some teenage hoodlums. I've dealt with people who wanted to start trouble more than once in my day. They find out all too late that I'm not a pushover despite being old and weak."

Wendy pursed her lips. "I don't mean to be a nosey neighbor, but I saw you sitting with a shotgun at around three this morning, and I thought I heard a gunshot. Did you have some trouble?"

Miss Newman frowned and looked away. "Just a stray, scrounging about. I fired a shot to scare him off. He might have normally been a little hard to see in the dark, but I'm exceptional at picking ones like him out from even a distance. I'd be careful. I have a feeling he is part of a pack, and I doubt one gunshot will keep them out of the area. I'd keep your girls in your sight when they're at home. You never know what a wild beast will do if it gets the opportunity."

"I know," Wendy confirmed, nodding vigorously. "My youngest daughter was chased by a dog just last week. The thing chased her all the way home from this end of the street. If she hadn't been on her bike, it would have marked her! I normally don't make calls, but I called animal control for that."

Miss Newman muttered something under her breath, something about memory failing, but Wendy couldn't make it out. The older woman then looked back at her and smiled. "I'm glad she got to safety, and I hope something was done about that dog."

Wendy shook her head. "I'm not sure. I never saw animal control show up, and you were talking about seeing a stray. I hope that vicious thing isn't still lurking about."

"Let's hope," Miss Newman said in agreement, although she didn't seem concerned. She lifted her head and looked down the street, then stood up. "Ah, it seems like your bus is nearly here. I hope you have an uneventful day at K-Mart."

Wendy was about to ask how Miss Newman knew she worked at K-Mart, but then realized that question had an obvious answer. She was wearing her uniform, and the woman must have noticed it through the opening in her jacket. 

However, she did note something else. "You aren't waiting for the bus too?" Wendy asked, confused. 

Miss Newman shook her head. "Just enjoying a short stroll. I'm working completely out of home. I think I'm going to take a nap now since I expect to have a lot of long hours at night, but I don't set the hours. Have a good day; I've enjoyed talking to you. Keep Charlotte away from any more stray dogs."

How did she not set her hours if she was just researching from home? There was something else off about what the woman had just said, but she couldn't put a finger on it. 

Wendy stood up as the bus pulled into a stop. "Pleasant speaking with you as well, Miss Newman. My husband and I might stop by this evening to properly welcome you if it's alright."

Miss Newman waved a hand dismissively. "Quite alright, but maybe better if I stop by your place instead. My place is still a disaster from the move, and I wouldn't be happy having guests just yet. Say around seven?"

"That works for me," Wendy agreed and tried to think about what she could cook for dinner that wouldn't have meat. Perhaps she could make an extra batch of mac and cheese without the hotdogs cut up in it. "I'll see you then. Nice meeting you."

It was only after Wendy had boarded the bus and sat down that she suddenly was struck by the other thing that had thrown her off about Miss Newman's remarks. Had she told Miss Newman Charlotte's name? She must have, but couldn't recall it. Maybe her memory was acting up because of lack of sleep. She'd get an extra-large cup of coffee when she got into work to make sure she was truly alert.