The Boy in the Red Jacket - Annica Kocher I grab my backpack and head for the front door. My mom calls, “Don’t forget your lunch!” “I’ve got it! Love you!” I close the door and step outside. The cool morning breeze hits my face. The big oak trees sway and I hear the bus pull in front of my stop. The smell of the bus has always been something that haunts me. It smells like sweat and old chewing gum.