Blueberry Pretzels

Chapter 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up in a hospital bed with the memory of my neighbor's St. Bernard chasing me for three blocks before I got back home. With all the sprinting and jogging, my legs were numb when I knocked on my front door. I finally collapsed when the door opened.

The nurses were nice but I could tell that they didn't like my mom. They kept giving her these strange, odious looks. They gave me some food and left me with alone with my mom. "So, how are you feeling?" She asked. I didn't really know what to tell her because I didn't know how I felt or what was really going on around me. My head was swirling and my legs were sore.

"Good, I guess" was my answer. My mom had many questions but knew that she couldn't ask them all so quick. Luckily, she didn't really question me besides the normal an-accident-happened-OMG- questions.

"So what happened exactly?" She finally said.

I told her my story and she listened as if there was no chatter outside the door or anything else happening around her. When I finished, she said that that wasn't what happened. She said that I was chased by our neighbor's St. Bernard but I eventually ran in the street and got hit by a car, but she wanted to know what I thought happened.

After a week or so in the hospital, a news reporter from Channel 7 came to interview me. It wasn't much fun. I answered a bunch of questions I usually here other people answer on tv. I got to miss school for a month, which I loved, but otherwise, sitting in the hospital working on my fame science project wasn't the funnest thing in the world.

For my project, I decided to send an email for the director of my favorite commercial, an advertisement for Nike Elite products. I knew he wouldn't respond but it's worth a try. As backup, I searched Babe Ruth. He was actually pretty cool, an extreme legend if you ask me.

The doctor told me that by the end of the week I would be able to go home. I don't mind much. No homework (besides the project), chores or annoying problems that couldn't be helped by the press of a button. "I don't want to leave" I whispered to myself. "What was that?" My mom asked. "Oh, uh, nothing" I said. Lately our conversations have been short, neither of us wanting to talk.