Revision Piece from Fiction Class

This is portion that I revised from my first story in my fiction class. I'm still revising, and could be forever revising. Anyways, thoughts, comments, etc. are, as always, welcomed.


           I see you on the bus often, but I only see, never speak. I read you like a book, studying your mannerisms, features, and personality. But as much as I watch, I haven’t mentioned you to other people. My family is already concerned about how I insist on riding the bus. They offered me a car for my 18th birthday, but something didn’t seem right about that; I like riding the bus, and a car wouldn’t add very much to my life. They offer me rides all the time, as if they don’t get the clue. I do not like to spell it out to them; they mean the best. But sometimes I would rather be by myself.
           I can imagine confessing to them my observations. It would be at dinner time, because that is when conversations must be made. We would be eating a dish barren of meat and filled with the substitute, tofu. Ever since my parents made the decision to become vegetarians a few years ago, I’ve been making more trips to restaurants that serve steak. Being vegetarian isn’t a bad thing, but I don’t like tofu. It isn’t “me”. So after a forced bite of flavors I pretend to enjoy, I would say something like, “Mother, Father, I’ve seen someone on the bus that I find really interesting.”
          “Jessica! Be careful, darling. You never know when a creep on the bus will take advantage of a pretty face.” My mother would shutter at the thought.
          My father’s throat would clear. “Your mother is right. I’ll take you to school in the morning.” He would say it with such articulation that no one would question. It would be that voice which brings out the noises of chewing, knives and forks clanking against dishes.