Long Live Car Crash Hearts

November 14, 2008
By Jenna DeForte, Rochester, NY

November 7, 2006 7:30 am eastern standard time:

It was a brisk, fall morning. A hazy sun rises slowly, casting off disoriented colors into the early morning sky. Colorful cars speed down a street, zooming and beeping.

A yellow school bus pulls out into this busy street with a very precious cargo. 6 kids sit on the bus, some sleeping some talking; just a normal day on bus 812. Or so they thought. In the back row, 3 seats are filled by the youngest of the passengers. I was one of those kids.

It was my brother, my best friend and I occupying those 3 cold, leather seats. We were discussing the upcoming break from school. We had all taken a pause, a brief pause, but that’s all it took for out world to be turned upside down.

There was a loud beep; Then a screech of a pair of tires coming to a sudden halt. Crash! That was the last thing I heard before my body, like my brothers and best friend’s, was thrown into the air with no mercy. I saw colors, people, lights, everything blur together. It happened so fast, when I did get my head thinking straight and my eyes in focus I saw I was in the space between the seats. I was on my knees, hands on the sticky seat. I shook my head as my nose filled with a foul smell of burnt rubber.

My head soon swirled with questions and I felt a pain run from my left leg to the rest of my body. As my senses restarted I heard a loud, consistent beeping noise. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

I looked to my right and saw my brother struggle as he ran up the isle to the front of the bus. He seemed to be holding his head.

I turned my attention back to the dark seat that was in front of me. My pale hands lay on top of it. Before I knew what was happening I picked up my hands and started to get up; my body felt numb and weightless. As my hands left the seat I saw shards of plain glass fall out of my hand and drop back onto the bench like seat.

Watery blood dripped from my fingers and onto the glass covered area. I stepped into the isle and looked at my best friend lying motionless at the end of the bus. I questioned if she was alright, but turned and left her without an answer. My question left hanging in the air never answered.

I was still in a slow motion mode, walking mindlessly to the front; the beeping in my ear. I sat across from my brother; he indeed was holding his head, his face distorted in pain. I wanted to know what was wrong but I was still in too much shock to speak.

In the distance, or so I thought, I heard and saw the other passengers moving around trying to make sure everything was ok. Soon my best friend was sitting diagonal to me; I found my voice again. Again I asked if she was ok. She looked at me and I knew we all were not ok.

I looked over at my brother and discovered that there was a steady flow of crimson red blood coming from his scalp. Tears soon came flowing from my eyes the same way the blood came from his head.

Sirens sounded all around the area. On lookers watched as everything was being settled. A nurse who happened to see the whole thing was let onto the bus. She treated my brother and me. While everyone was being examined my bus driver was freaking out.

My hand was throbbing with pain and I had a metallic taste in my mouth, I think it was blood. Tears were still dampening my cheeks.

The nurse told us to try and stay clam. She was looking at my brothers head when a police officer boarded the smashed yellow vehicle. To my brothers dismay it looked like he would have to get stitches. For a moment everything went silent, except for the sirens and orders that came from outside the bus.

The police officer asked for our names which we quietly recited for him spelling out each letter; it wouldn’t be the last time, either. A tight tension hung in the air as the police officer dialed my moms cell.

There was yelling and screaming as I numbly told my mom what was going on. I sensed terror in her voice. The officer calmly told my mother what was going to happen.

I looked at the 6 faces around me. We all held the same expression, numbness, shock, and wonderment. As I sat there in this deformed bus anger started to rise within me, but was soon diminished by my brother’s torn face.

We were all put in neck braces; the braces were rough and uncomfortable, not to mention stiff. Another officer entered the bus with a heavy sigh. This one questions if we were hurt in any way. I answered, with little breath, that I had a sharp pain in my left leg. My brother was obvious and my best friend stayed quiet; I hoped she was ok.

The first officer instructed us to get off the bus. One by one we were lead off; my brother and I were last. My leg obtained a whole new pain when I put weight on it. When I got outside I felt a chill run through my spin; my eyes squinted adjusting to the light. I looked at the bus as I slowly walked over to the sounding ambulance.

The last two windows were shattered and there were broken shards of glass occupying the black asphalt beneath the bus. I looked back a little ways and saw skid marks on the black top. I heard a crunch beneath my own feet and looked down; I had just stepped in glass. I looked up again and just noticed a small, destroyed car a ways off behind my bus. The car was in disarray.

I couldn’t tell what had happened to the person driving all I could see was a big blue tarp draped over it.

Questions popped into my head as I was put into the ambulance. The doors shut with a slam and it went dark. A small light was on, but I didn’t care much. Next I knew the thunderous sirens were back on and we were speeding down the busy streets of beeping cars.
November 7, 2006 8:30 pm eastern standard time:

8 people involved in a crash. There were 6 children, 2 adults. A person was killed and 7 survived. A person received 15 stitches and 6 were fine.

The author's comments:
This happened to me when i was first just entering seventh grade. It was something i thought should be shared. My twin brother head actually went through a window and he had to get tons of stitches. I hope you get something from it.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!