Cracked Screen

May 24, 2012
By Kian McHugh BRONZE, Palo Alto, California
Kian McHugh BRONZE, Palo Alto, California
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

We are at the party having fun. We are all hanging out having fun and socializing with our friends. We are all young and dumb; hardly knowing wrong from right. It is getting darker and darker so we know it is approaching our time to go. We came as a group so we will leave as a group. The party was fun but we all walk out the door and head to the car.

I am the driver. I drank at the party but my friends don’t mind. I’m not an idiot so I can obviously drive drunk. My friends are getting in the car so they are obviously fine with it too. It is not a big deal at all. Personally, I feel great. The car is starting perfectly so now we are on our way. We’ll be home in no time. My mom is calling so I pick up. “Yes mom we’re on our way. No I didn’t drink... I’m driving!... Okay, I’ll be there soon.” I hang up. My friend in the back is being weird and asking if I’m okay. “Of course I’m fine. I’m driving aren’t I?” I keep my eyes on the road but I’m getting tired. I turn up the music. Nothing bad is going to happen. Someone mumbled something but I choose not to hear. I look down at my phone and A set of lights flashes ahead.

I am sitting in the passenger seat. I have been in the car with him before and know he is a fine driver. I drank as well but I know what I am doing. He’ll have me home in no time. My mom is annoying me with texts reminding me to make good choices and be home on time. I’ll just talk to her when I get home. She worries too much. What’s the big deal about drinking and driving anyway? It’s not like he’s that drunk. Knowing him he’d probably pass a breathalyzer. Nothing bad ever happens to him so we are fine. My friend is looking nervous in the back seat. He had no other way home so we made him get in the car. He’ll be fine. He asks my friend driving if he’s fine and gets yelled back at immediately. Moments later he asks if he will slow down. I whisper to him, “Shut up dude. He’s fine; we’ll be home in a sec.” There is a moment of silence and then a set of lights flashes ahead.

I am in the back seat. I’ve never been in a car with anyone like this before. He is clearly drunk and struggling to drive. I promised my mom I wouldn’t do this. She said I could call her whenever and she would pick me up, but she is out of town. I had no choice and listened to them when they said get in. I am scared and feel uncomfortable. I look at a text from my mom that she sent me earlier in the day. It reads, “Have fun and make good choices. See you tomorrow morning. Call me if you need anything. Love mom.” I want to call her but there is no use, I’ll be home in no time. I look up at my friend driving and he looks tired. He picks up the phone and starts yelling at his mom. After a couple seconds he hangs up. “Are you fine up there?” He snaps back at me angrily stating that he is obviously fine. He speeds up and I grip my seat. I whimper, “Slow down dude.” He either doesn’t hear me or just chooses to ignore my comment. I look out the front windshield and see a set of lights flashing ahead.

I am the driver. I get good grades and play sports. I am in the car with my two friends. Normally I am a respectful boy but my vision has been skewed. Even as a swerve down this street my friends are trusting me. I do not truthfully know what I am doing here. I am driving in the wrong lane. What am I doing?

We are all on the pavement. The car flipped and is leaning against a tree down the street. We swerved into the wrong lane and were hit from the front. We are all in pain with thoughts flying through our heads. We are not going to make it. We listen to the perturbed symphony of sirens and screams until it all goes silent. As we lay there in darkness, we ponder the truth.

A phone lays on the pavement with its screen cracked. A message sits open begging to be read. The only visible words are “make good choices... love mom.”

The author's comments:
I have known multiple people who have died due to drunk driving. It kills me to see people do it every weekend. This piece was written to show how I view it.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!