Currently Listening Cannons By Phil Wickham see related

He looked down at his new adidas superstars as a tiny beetle scuttled by. His foot debated moving the few inches over to squash the pest, before ultimately deciding he did not want to deal with looking at the smeared remnants. After sparing the insect of his brutality, he heard the distant rumbling and canary yellow school bus rumbling towards him.

He remembered to correct his posture before climbing aboard the bus, putting on a calm and collected demeanor as he discretely judged the people already sitting down on the bus. A girl with a cute face and outift to match. He was already moving past her before considering the opportunity to sit down next to her. Instead, he found a seat for himself in the very back. Jostling to and fro, his legs uncouthly propped up on the hump over one of the wheels, Greg Bainwell was on his way to the first day of high school. The beatle had managed to tuck itself in his rolled up jean cuff, along for the ride.

edited again.

pretend you're picking up a middle school fiction book. i think it could work.