Dear Miz Fitz,
My school is too far to walk to and I can’t get anybody to drive me so I have to take the bus and I don’t like it.
What is it you don’t like about inserting yourself into a long, squarish metal tube with fifty or sixty random teenagers at O-dark-thirty in the morning? Could it be that you do not enjoy the commingling of mango bodywash, perfume, sports deodorant and mystery hair product? Miz Fitz recommends that you crack a window, and whatever you do, do not light a match.—The Delicate Miz Fitz