"Are you sure your mom is okay with the party on Saturday?" Lexi asked me as we whizzed down the road on the school bus heading home.
I looked away from the window over at my best friend. Alexandra, Lexi for short, and I had been best friends since second grade. With her blonde hair and wide blue eyes, she definitely looked her English heritage.
I sighed and looked back out the window, shifting my softball gear at my feet. "Of course, Lexi. I wouldn't want to get grounded again, would I?" I looked at the black car parallel to our bus. Was it allowed to be that close?
"Definitely not Iz. That was the worst three weeks ever. Even for me, and I wasn't grounded." She grinned at me, and I saw her reflection in the window, so I grinned back. I looked at myself in the reflection, frowning. My bangs were starting to get in my eyes again, and my black hair was practically half way down my back. I really needed a haircut.
"Martin is the white car supposed to be that close to the bus?" yelled a kid from the back of the bus up to the bus driver. I glanced on the other side of the bus. There was a white car just as close to us as the black one.
The bus driver glanced over. "I don't think so. I'll slow down in case he's trying to cross." Martin slowed down, giving the car space. Both cars slowed down with the bus. "Hmm... Peculiar," muttered the bus driver. Suddenly there was a car behind our bus, tailing very closely. The black car on our left side sped up and crossed over until he was in front of us. Then the white car on the right slowly inched closer to the side of the bus, so we crossed into the left lane. The white car kept getting closer and closer, and the car in front of us slowed down, while the one in back sped up. Startled, Martin swerved to the left, crashing through the metal fence, and our bus started to tumble down the steep hill.
Half the kids on the bus started screaming, some started crying. I slammed into the wall, Lexi on top of me. She cried out. Just then the side of the bus hit a sharp rock and it pushed in, stabbing into my leg. My softball bag was on my chest, Lexi was on my side and I was pinned to the wall by the twisted metal. As the bus flipped again, Lexi and my bag were separated from me, but the metal kept me pinned where I was. I felt the bone in my leg snap, felt the metal cut into the trapped leg. Suddenly the bus stopped rolling, and Lexi collapsed on top of me. This time I let out a small whimper, and she turned to me, and her eyes widened. I must have looked as horrible as I felt. Martin got up, pushed open the door on the roof, and started helping kids out. Only Lexi seemed to notice I needed help. As Martin got everyone else out, he hoisted himself out of the hole, and seeing only Lexi called to her to come out.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a fire spark in the front seat. "Get out Lexi!" I whispered frantically. She looked me in the eye.
"I'll be right back Isabella, don't you worry." I grinned weakly at her. She jumped out of the opening in the bus, and sure enough, about thirty seconds later, she was back, but someone was with her. "She's stuck," Lexi told the huge shadow. As the person knelt closer to me, I saw that it was Mikey, the tallest guy on our bus. Also the strongest. He was a black belt in karate and had a tendency of beating the crap out of kids at school.
"That looks painful," he said, looking at my predicament.
"Slightly," I whispered. "So it would be nice if you could hurry."
"Right, sorry," he said. Gently he bent back a piece of thin metal that was cutting into my leg, making a space. "Were going to have to slide your leg through there," he said. "I can't bend the rest of this, it's too thick."
"Fine," I said, "Just get me out of here." Lexi held my hand as he tried to get my leg through the small space as carefully as possible. When it was out, he turned to Lexi.
"Go find someone to call 911. I'll get her out of here." As Lexi left, he slid his arms gently beneath me, as though I was a china doll. He lifted me up, and I fought back tears. 'Ow, ow, ow,' I thought, sucking in a breath. He eased his way through the opening in the bus, and carried me over to the other kids. Laying me down on a bed of pine needles, he pulled a Swiss army knife out of his back pack, and cut from the hem of my jeans up to my upper thigh. Seeing the look on my face at the knife, he muttered, "Boy Scouts." Then, carefully, he cut around, pulling all the extra fabric off. He grinned down at me. "Sorry about your jeans." I grinned back, focusing on taking long, deep breaths.
I glanced down at my leg. It was a bloody mess, and it was covered in dirt. Lexi came over, stuffing a cell phone in her back pocket. She knelt down beside me as Mikey poured water on the part of my jeans he had ripped off. Lexi took the soaked cloth from him and gently started wiping blood and dirt from my leg. I fought back tears as she ran the cloth over the part of my leg that had gotten torn up. Mikey looked up at the top of the hill as we heard sirens in the distance. "Bring her to the top of the hill, so the EMTs can see us," Said Martin. Mikey lifted me up again this time I cried out, as the pain began to get unbearable. At least I wasn't crying. I hate crying.
At the top of the hill, we saw an ambulance rushing toward us. As it got closer, it pulled over and came to a quick stop. Three EMTs jumped out of the back and carried a stretcher over to us.
"You shouldn't have picked her up." The first EMT said.
Mikey glared at him. "If I hadn't picked her up, shed be at the bottom of a ditch in a burning bus."
The EMT looked slightly embarrassed and allowed the other two EMTs to step in front of him and lay out the stretcher. Mikey placed me down carefully on top. The two EMTs picked up the stretcher and started carrying it over to the back of the ambulance. I glanced back at Mikey.
"Come with me?" I whispered.
He nodded as Lexi jumped up into the back of the ambulance. Mikey got in and they loaded me inside. The last thing I noticed before I passed out was that the rude EMT didn't come into the back, but went up into the front seat.
