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Chapter Thirteen of Our Days As Friends
THRILLER!!! Chapter Thirteen
A Tragic Accident
I looked into my mirror. I could see Dez following me very contentedly. I smiled and looked up. Brit was making the car signal, but I hesitated. Then, pulling myself together, I moved. The car passed and the driver waved. We were most of the way up the hill to our long decent. But because some of us were faster, instead of going down in a straight, single-file line the way we go up, the last person goes to the right, the first person goes to the left, and the center person goes straight down the middle. Down the middle wasn’t as dangerous as it sounded. Cars never drove down the middle of our street. And I had excellent brakes, which stopped, even on this hill, completely. So I had nothing to worry about. Or so I thought then.
We were all the way up. Near the top, there was a small turn, and then you were starring down at a long slope. If the curves of the street were flattened, they would make a one hundred twenty-five degree angle. The slope was about fifteen feet long.
“Scared?” I asked. The sides of the street were lined with snow. Brit and Dez’s lawn was totally shoveled out, and it was a sunny day. The street plows were up, shoveling through and endless amount of deep snow. There were fallen branches, but they were small, and not a cation to us.
“No. I’ve never been scared of this hill, snow covered or not.” Dez said. She sounded like she was boasting bravado to sound like she had more tenacity then she really had. I admired her attempt at bravery, even though it was phony.
“I don’t like the fact that there’s twigs on the ground.” Brit said. “They look sharp.”
“You think so? They don’t look that sharp to me.” I put the kick stand on my bike down and approached one. I held the small twig and showed it to Brit. “See? We have nothing to worry about.” I said. But now, I know those words were wrong.
We all prepared to go down the hill. We all made one last check to our helmets. Then, we let Brit push off first. Then, Dez. I started down the hill last because I had the most speed. I saw a car coming up on the right, so I looked at Dez and made the car sign. When we noticed someone making a sign, we repeated the sign as confirmation that we understood. I looked at Dez. She confirmed, but she made the sign again. I thought she was making sure that I had seen her confirmation, but that wasn’t what she had intended. She made the sign again. I decided to look forward, but it was too late. I noticed a car pulling out. Dez had stopped. I hit my brakes, but I didn’t stop. I pulled at them frantically. I suddenly went limp from the panic. I couldn’t pull my brakes of swerve away. It was just too late. I hit the car.
When I woke up, my vision was slightly blurred. But I could make out the figures of Dez, Brit, and Gloria, as well as my mom. They were looking down at me. I realized I was in the back of an ambulance. I had a small scar on my check, and could feel little in my left leg. I heard my mom whisper “She’s waking up.”
“What happened?” I asked, even though I could recall the accident.
“You hit Rachel’s mom’s car. You should be ok. You have some cuts, and the nurse with us is pumping some pain killer into your leg. It looked pretty bad.” Mom said. She looked like she had been crying.
“So that’s why I can barely feel my leg. I thought I broke it.” I responded.
“Lizzie, I hope you get better. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.” Dez said. I found it odd that she was taking the blame.
“No, it was my fault. I thought you were confirming the sign, and I didn’t notice the car.” I tried to sit up, but Brit told me not to.
“The guy said he thinks you hurt your back, too.”
“Am I going to get out of here?” I asked the nurse.
“Well, the doctor wants a look at that leg of yours, then we’ll bandage those wounds and, if your injuries aren’t serious, they will send you off. But I think he’ll give you a wheel chair, or at least crutches, for a week.” The nurse replied. I smiled. Evan wouldn’t be the only one on crutches.
“Well, your leg is deeply gashed.” The doctor said. I hadn’t looked at it, partially because I was afraid to see my injury, in fear that I might faint. “But aside from some cuts and that black eye, you should be fine.”
Black eye? I thought for a moment, realizing why it was hard to see earlier. “Am I going to need crutches?” I asked.
“I was suggesting a wheel chair, but if you want crutches, I can make arrangements.” He smiled.
They brought me to the surgery room and where they stitched and bandaged my leg and cuts, making sure they were clean, so I didn’t get an infection. When all of my wounds were bandaged, a different nurse handed me a pair of crutches.
“You put them under your armpit. Tall enough?” she asked. I stood up. “Try walking. If your foot drags, we’ll get you higher ones.” I walked across the room. I had no trouble, so I was issued those crutches to keep for two weeks, when they would check my wounded leg and re-bandage if necessary. I starred down. My leg was totally covered on my shin and knee, so my leg was slightly bent back. I would be like this for at least two weeks.I can still see the scar cry
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