The car ride home left me to think of all the things that occurred today. My mind wondered to the stranger that placed the note on my car. When did he see me, and how did he know this was my car..? I guess he saw me and Grace getting out of it earlier… Was he friends with Grace? Maybe they have classes together or something. I’ll have to ask her about him next time I see her, but how do you bring up a guy you don’t know anything about, not even his first name..? All I know is what he was wearing, and it changes daily. Maybe he was known for wearing beanies or a thousand bracelets on his wrist. I hope they’re just there for fashion purposes and not because he’s trying to cover up scars…
The thought of someone harming themselves make me uneasy and I start to feel sick. I try to change my thoughts to the party tomorrow night, but the thought keeps reoccurring and I have to pull over onto the side of the road because of how sick I feel.
I stay seated in the driver’s seat and try to calm myself down so that I don’t publically vomit onto the road. As soon as I start thinking about it, I start to feel my lunch rising in my throat. I didn’t eat much but I guess it hasn’t finished digesting. I quickly open the car door and lean over the edge to avoid ruining my car or my outfit with bile.
When I feel empty and cannot vomit anymore, I look around to see if anyone has stopped or slowed because of my little episode on the side of the road. I see no one and I’m so thankful that I didn’t have to explain my weak stomach to anyone. I’ve never been one for blood or anything similar to that. I couldn’t even play the silly little “Operation” game when I was younger. At least I knew at a young age that I wasn’t going to be headed into the medical field. Take that out of the millions of other jobs a human being can possibly pursue.
I sit up in the driver’s seat of my car to try to steady myself and to not look at the vomit spread over the road, it would just make my body feel the need to do it all over again, and I wasn’t planning on adding it to my itinerary. I sigh and try to fix my hair and makeup in the tiny, pull down mirror of my car. I wanted to go for the “I didn’t just lose everything that was once held in my stomach” look. I ended up making myself look slightly worse than I did before.
I run my hands through my hair in one last attempt to fix it, and start my car. It starts getting dark and I find myself driving in circles around the small town. But, I just keep going, and my mind seems to be doing the same thing. I find the mystery boy pushing his way through my clouded thoughts to eventually be in the center of them. I’m not sure why he felt the need to put the note on my car, I mean, I don’t consider myself ugly or anything, but I don’t also find myself so beautiful that I’m looking at my reflection in anything and everything that’s shiny. Plus, guys aren’t exactly throwing themselves at me either, I blame it on all the skanks in my school that will take any guy with a pulse.
School. I’ll be heading back to that hell hole in less than two months, thankfully starting my senior year. I can’t wait to join Grace at Berkeley. Laila hasn’t shown much interest in joining us at Berkeley. She seems much more interested in going to London for college.
Just as I started thinking about Laila going to college in London, I start to pull through an intersection. A loud car horn is blasting through my car and my thoughts. Before I can turn to my left to see what was happening, I feel a massive force push its way into my car door. I am left stunned and can’t collect my thoughts in time to react. I try to process what exactly happened just now, but as soon as I start to realize what has happened, two large men pull open my car door, pick me up and place me on a stretcher. As I’m being carted away from the scene, I look back to see what had hit me. A large pick-up truck had the entire front end smashed and my car door was completely ripped off of the car. The damage was going to be extremely costly, and I didn’t know how a seventeen year old was going to pay for it. I just hope my dad will be understanding and help me with the repair.
I am loaded into the back of the ambulance, and the doors and shut with a loud slam. Before I can ask the male nurse next to me if I can call my dad, he is asks me if anything hurts or if I am injured. I don’t feel injured and nothing hurt at the moment.
“Try to wiggle your fingers and toes, and then move onto lifting your legs and arms if none of your fingers and toes hurt.” I did not question the nurse as I started to wiggle my fingers slowly. A searing pain shoots through my left forearm and I make a noise that I’ve never made before. It sounded like a whimper, scream and cry put together. The nurse turns away from me for a couple seconds and starts to dig around in a small, black bag that is placed next to him.
He turns back to me, and is now holding a splint in his hand. He carefully places it onto my forearm to keep my arm from moving anymore. It was clearly broken or sprained. I couldn’t tell but I looked down at my now black and blue forearm once more and start to feel lightheaded. The room starts to go blurry and everyone’s voice around me sounds very far away, almost as if I’m not even there. My vision is starting to fade in and out from black to the male nurse, black to the medical equipment on the wall, and back to black once more.
