Nile Hand.ppt

     It had been an uneventful day at school, either that or the events of the school day had been eclipsed by what followed. I remember it was a Wednesday, the 26^th of May, the day before I turned fifteen. Being a Wednesday, there were no after school sports in the middle school of St Gregory, and we left around 3:45.

     My dad drove up to the parking lot, as he always did, a few spaces away from where Johanna, the older of my two younger sisters, and I stood. We walked over and hopped into our ‘97 Toyota Camry. Normally on a Wednesday we would have driven as quickly as possible over to my guitar teacher's house, but a few weeks prior my teacher had decided to move back to England.

     Both my sister and I must wear braces  , and that day we had to make the short drive over to our orthodontist. His office is conveniently located a block south of St Gregory, at the intersection just south on Craycroft. We stopped at the red light. I was pointlessly looking over my awards and a plastic sword, both of which I had won in art that day. It was the final art class of what had been an amazing year with my fellow eighth grade artists. We had a party, drank sodas, ate chips, and everyone of us got at least one award from Ms. Encila.

     The light turned green. I, lost in thought, didn’t even notice we had started to move. Then suddenly there was a bang. Our car lurched to the middle of the intersection and filled with smoke. Just as our dad started to yell “both of you! Get out of the car!” I saw that the airbags had gone off.

     We all exited the car as fast as we could and ran across the street to the Shell gas station on the corner. There was a green car, slightly smaller then ours, sitting at the edge of the intersection. Our dad made sure we were both alright, and then went into the Shell station and started talking to the clerk who was working there. He wanted to know if he had seen the crash. He hadn’t, but he said they should keep a cop stationed on that corner, there are so many accidents.

     Johanna and I walked over to the orthodontist while our dad talked with different people about what had happened. We were right on time. We went over when Dr. Barney called us and sat in the chairs, too big for anyone. As usual, I lay back in the chair and let my mind . They tightened my brackets, wrote down what they’d do next time, and let us go. I grabbed a piece of sugar-free gum as I walked out.

     As we walked back into the intense sunlight we discussed the crash. We crossed the street and walked over to where Ted stood. He had called our uncle John and removed everything from our car. As we waited on the curb for John to come get us, the woman who had hit us walked over. She was extremely old and I had trouble understanding what she said. Something about being sorry.

     John’s white Jeep drove around the corner as we gathered up our things. We piled everything into the trunk: my dad’s construction tools, all our school things, two little strips of paper, and my sword. As we drove away my dad and uncle talked about the possible out-comes  of calling the old woman’s insurance. I barely listened. After a near death experience like that, or anything that really gets your adrenalin going, you see the world differently. It's like looking down on events unfolding upon a body, only partially your own.

Epilogue:

It took forever for my dad to come to some kind of understanding with the woman’s car insurance company. Our car was totaled, which means the airbags went off. We never could squeeze enough money out of the insurance company to replace the airbags. They gave us a rental car for five days. Now we drive around in a white ’97 Toyota Camry with a light blue, replacement front and no airbags.