Brittany's Keeper

December 2, 2011
“Vroom, Vroom, Vroom, Vroom”, “Vroom, Vroom, Vroom, Vroom”, Man down... As more faint the song becomes, I could hear my mom calling after me, “Get down here, you have guest arriving, “Yes, Ma’am”, I responded with no intentions of leaving my room anytime soon. So I turned my iPod back up and began my journal for the day:
March 9th, 2008,
Today is my 13th birthday. Another one of those celebrations, my mom had every year without any meaning. The only reason people came was for the free food and because of their emptiness of plans for this particular Friday. I’m ecstatic that Brittany, my only friend will be coming. Sometimes, I wish I were her. She was beautiful. The type of girl who received 100’s of likes on her face book pictures, when I could barely even get people to look at mine. Everyone engaged in conversations on her status, containing nothing more than her current mood. Her 5’4, 120lbs frame that always wreaked of Bath and Body Works newest fragrance. This month’s was Peaches and Cream so I was certain to smell that on her. Her hair always flowed perfectly down, on her smooth cheeks covering her deep dimples. Brittany was great, great at everything from cheerleading to her perfectly picked clothes she wore with confidence and pride. Something I never had and probably never would. However, Today was my 13th birthday, my time to shine and I’m going to do just that. I’m going to shine like the moon at midnight in a sea full of clouds.

“Yes Mom, I just had to finish straitening my hair”, this was just the beginning of the lies I’d tell tonight.

…. TTYL, journal before my mom have a BF!
Sincerely, All American Reject

Walking downstairs I could smell the 375$ paint job that my mom wasted getting the halls repainted just for today. Sometimes I think she throws this extravagant party once a year because she’d ignore me the other 363 days. Today is more of an “Its better late than never” celebration for the way I’m treated by her. I’m now walking into a sea of people, more strangers than friends. I then here a familiar beat, “Take it back now yall”, screamed the speakers. This song is familiar to any black person who’s ever been to a party. It’s like the national black, “Get up and move anthem”. I hated it, and never understood why someone would want to do this silly dance that’s repetition of kicking their legs and moving sideways. Besides, I always confused my left and right foot. As, I approached the stage, for my grand entrance, I could hear gasps, and whispering. “Is that Cathy’s Daughter”, “Beautiful Dress”, “Happy Birthday Tammy”…, different voice roared at me.

What had made me laugh was the yelling of the children, because of my Uncle Terry’s clown costume. His costume did a better job at making the children cry than smile. I could smell the Ribs that were grilled, and the smoke from the firecrackers mixed in the air and made a musty yet indulging scent that wrapped around my block. I began to search for Brittany in the crowd, instead fount my entire 2nd grade class, even Kyle. Kyle was the meanest boy in class, who picked on me on a daily basic. He looked like he had a fight with the BBQ, in which the BBQ won. Where was Brittany? Was this Brittany’s way of getting back at me for not letting her borrow my sweater yesterday? What did she expect, it’s wasn’t my fault she forgot hers! “Have you seen Brittany”, I desperately began to ask people. I then came to the conclusion, Brittany was trying to sabotage my day, and I hated her instantly. How could she do this to me? She knew that this day meant nothing without her being here. She was jealous, so she didn’t show, cowardly move. I continued to search my mind for this pathetic question. Now, I was mad. More mad than I was for having to wear this big pink stupid dress. I had to find a way to still enjoy my party without my best friend, or shall I say enemy.

March 11, 2008,

It’s been a couple days since my party. I can’t believe Brittany didn’t show. We’ve been practically planning this day since we were in kindergarten. The biggest day of my life thus far, and my only friend wasn’t there. I can’t stand to see her face anymore. Sometimes I hate myself for allowing myself to have such a dependency on our friendship. Tomorrow is school and I can’t even stand to see her. I officially hated her. She was selfish and I couldn’t befriend such an inconsiderate person. Got to go Journal, Pizza is waiting with my name on it.

Yours Truly, All American Reject

Walking in class, my stomach was in knots. I was debating if I’d listen to Brittany’s Apology or not. I was still deciding if I’d want to dismiss our 8 years of friendship. The only thing I’m certain of is that I’m not certain about anything. As I took my seat, I didn’t see Brittany. Maybe, she was so embarrassed about blowing off my birthday that she couldn’t even show her face. As Ms. Wilson came in, she wasn’t herself. She’d usually come in with a goofy smile, and greeting everyone with either a “Good Morning”, “How’s everyone doing?” , “I hope you weekend was as good as mine”, or even a “Ok class may everyone be seated, and give me the respect I deserve”. But today it was different. Not different because she didn’t give her generic greeting but because, she had a look on her face that a frighten child might have after seeing a Lion.
I could’ve sworn I even seen tears fall down her face. I wanted to break this awkward silence, so I stood up and shouted, “Who died”? I was then for certain she had been crying because she said nothing but her eyes spoke the unspoken words of “Right now is not the time”, so I sat back down and began to wonder what had happen. I then knew at that very moment, who used to be the meanest 4rd grade teacher, was now in tears. What’s next, Pigs flying? If Ms. Wilson had feelings, anything was possible. This very Monday was beyond weird. Today Brittany, who had received perfect attendance for the past 9 years and counting, is now absent and now Ms. Wilson was crying. I wish I wasn’t so mad at Brittany today, so I could call her and tell her about what I had witnessed. As the first bell rung, she wipes the running eye liner from below her eyes and said she had an announcement
.
As she began to speak, her voice cracked and she could barely get through her “announcement”. I didn’t want to listen anyway because; it was probably another one of her drama introductions to another 10 page essay. I then took out my IPod and put the volume on 53% because I could hear what she’d have to say, if she’d ask “Are you guys following”? “I have devastating news, Friday afternoon on the way home from school, our fellow classmate Brittany Green”… I then turned the volume down to 25% as I watch the reaction on my class mates face as she spoke. “… ...Was hit by a semi-truck on 95th while walking home from schoo--.” I interrupted her, “That’s no way to joke Ms. Wilson, just spill … what it is this time?” As the tears continued to drop from Ms. Wilson’s face, I could tell from what I thought could’ve been a practically joke, was now reality. I was numb, didn’t cry, I didn’t blink, I didn’t speak, hell I didn’t breathe… I just stood there numb. After what felt like an hour in a daze, I was then escorted out of my 4th grade classroom. I still was in a twilight zone. 15 minutes later, my mom and dad showed up. I was sitting in the principal office and I wasn’t in there for the usually, I was in there because my friend of 8years was hit by a semi-truck. The ride home was stranger. Stranger than the last couple days. Nobody said anything we just rode. My mom then asked, “Do you want to go to the hospital, Brittany’s at?” I didn’t speak but my eyes, desperately cried “Yes”.
As we pulled up to largest building I’d ever seen in my life, my daddy opened the door for me and we walked in unison. This skinny lady in the first desk we seen then asked “Hi, How can I help you today?” I wanted to say “Sure can, rewind the last 3 days of my life”, but I couldn’t. My dad spoke too quickly. “Yes, Ma’am, can you please direct me to the floor Miss Brittany Green would be on”, he said as if it was any casual conversation. As she checked her out of date computer for the correct room number. “204D” she said as she handed my father a ticket. “How old are you missy, she asked me”, “16” my father snapped back quickly. I t was my first time hearing my father tell a lie. “Alrighty then, enjoy your day”. I then wanted to smack whoever trained these people to say “Have a nice day”, in the trauma unit in the hospital. How could anyone “enjoy” a day after walking into a hospital, not knowing what kind of condition their loved one is in. I still didn’t know what to think or what to say. Once again I was numb.

The ride on the elevator was the worst. I could barely breathe, all I smelt was a stale scent of old bread and Lysol. I then had to pace myself and practice breathing. I then finally caught my breath and tried to pretend I wasn’t in a hospital, and wasn’t about to witness the best friend in the conditions that a semi-truck left her with.”Dad, is Brittany okay, why didn’t anyone tell me”, I repeated. I then remained silent as we rode the elevator. I was almost there 201D, 202D, 203D, 204D… I was there. As I turned the corner I could barely see her because of all of the balloons, cards, and flowers. I then saw her fragile body, with tubes going all through her and bruises that were drawn all over her thin frame.

Usually there are a number of things that happens before you get ready to start crying, but this time it didn’t. I just felt the coldness, pressed against my chest for the sea of tears. My eyes felt heavy, and were beginning to burn. As I examined her closer, she still looked beautiful. More gorgeous than ever before, she then began to move her mouth when she woke and noticed it was me. “How was the party?” she asked softly. My tears then came fast like a hurricane, I felt guilty for all I had said about her. “It was cool, same ole’, same ole’” I tried to say it jokingly. I didn’t want to make her feel, like she had missed out on anything. Brittany laying here on this hospital bed made her my hero. I however still felt jealousy towards her. I was now jealous of her bravery, courage, and strength.

She could barely focus, and seemed to be very sleepy. The machine that Brittany was chained to began to spit out loud noise. Noise that I’d never heard before and the lines that looked the ones you’d see on the stomach of a toy robot began to make straighter lines. I then got worried because she stopped talking and answering my questions. The doctor then came in and said that “Brittany needs some rest; I’m going to have to ask you all to leave”.

“Alright then, give me a second ma’am”, cried my father. As my dad whispered in my ear I should say Bye, “Bye Brittany”, I said unwantingly. It took both my mom and dad to pull me up and out of the room. I then pulled myself together and walked back to the parking lot. As I walked back down the stair well, I peeked into a couple other patients’ rooms and nobody seemed to be as bad off as Brittany. I asked softly,
“Mom is Brittany going to be okay”?
“Yes honey, she just needs time to rest”, but for some reason I didn’t believe her. Mom spoke with uncertainty and I hated her for that. The ride home was only 15minutes, but it felt like I had been in there for months. Once I got home, I skipped dinner, showered and went straight to my room after.


March 12, 2012,

Today is a mixture of the worst and best day of my life. I got my best friend back and lost her in the same day.


Forever Yours, Brittany’s Keeper

Ahsaki Taylor

ative Writing





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