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At the next stop, a middle-schooler named slumped onto the bus, earbuds in, not making eye contact. But Carlos noticed his shoes were untied. "Jay. Laces, man. I don’t need you tripping into my stepwell."
This isn't just driving, he thought. This is the first mile of their future.
At the Transportation Depot, the mechanics were already at work. , one of the district’s first female master diesel techs, was deep inside Engine 212. A faulty sensor. "If we don't catch this now," she told her apprentice, "some kid is late to their algebra exam." The apprentice nodded. In Northside, being late wasn't just an inconvenience—it was a domino. Late bus → late class → missed breakfast → hard day.
The dispatcher, , replied from the central depot off Culebra Road. Her voice was calm steel. "Copy, 407. Watch the fog near Braun."
"Heard you had a new nonverbal student yesterday," Carlos said.
His first pickup was , age 7. She was waiting at the curb of a cul-de-sac, backpack twice her size, holding her mother’s hand. The bus’s yellow lights strobed. Stop arm out. Carlos opened the door.
For , a 14-year driver for Northside ISD Transportation, this was the sacred hour. His bus, Unit 407, was spotless. The seats were aligned. The heater was already chasing away the February chill. On his clipboard was the route he could run blindfolded: a loop through the wooded subdivisions near O.P. Schnabel Park, then a tight turn onto Bandera Road, ending at Stinson Middle School.
At 5:17 AM, the hum began.