The crisp winter breeze whistled past my face as we slowly sauntered home from the restaurant, Tavern on Dean. My cousin Jack and I were talking while my brother Shea and my cousin Greta were chasing each other. This would seem like a nice, relaxing night. It would seem like it.

As we walked home we came to a very large road, so large -in fact- that there was a slab of sidewalk in between.

We started to stride across when the streetlight flashed walk. But we were coaxed back when after a half- second, the light turned to a blinking red. We obviously had come to a broken streetlight. So the next time it turned to walk, we ran for it. Again, after a half-second, the light started blinking red. Luckily, it took a long time for the light to turn completely red. So in the time we had, we dashed across the street, with me leading the pack. We got halfway through with the light still blinking. And right when I was three quarters of the way th-“CRASH!”

Next thing I knew, I was laying on the sidewalk with my head spinning, a silver Toyota Camry was sitting on the street in front of me, my dad was howling at the driver and everyone else was helping me up and ushering me to the sidewalk. I must have lost a few brain cells when I fell because it took me about 5 minutes to realize I was hit by a car.

As I walked over to the sidewalk I realized that Shea and Greta were crying, my mom was worriedly apprising my dad to write down the license plate number and my dad was calling 911 with my cousin Jack’s phone. I was staring blankly at them the whole time.

Soon, an ambulance came. Now, I had come back to life and realized that this was actually happening. I got really worried, not for myself, but for the people who hit me. They were going to get in trouble and I kept feeling like it was my fault. They were the one’s who made the illegal turn and hit me, and I still had the light. But something made me feel guilty.







2


As I stepped into the ambulance I realized that nothing really hurt. But I still had to go in. So I went in and got asked a series of very repetitive questions, like, “Does anything hurt? Does it hurt when I do this? Are you sure nothing hurts?” Questions like that. Finally, they let me go home.

Getting hit by a car was one of the strangest events that ever happened to me. An experience that shocked me, surprised me, and even bored me. And although everything was strange and confusing, I’m sort of glad this happened. I needed something to make me more conscious of the road and the world around me. And now that I know to be a little smarter when crossing the street, I’m sure that something like this will never happen again.