It was a typical autumn afternoon, the eight people of our afterschool carpool piled into a car built for seven. Being my sister’s birthday, I had to have my brother sit on my lap for the five minute car ride home from the bus stop. Knowing how to push my buttons, my brother poked and irritated me the entire way home. Hearing the ruckus in the back of the car, my mother chose to drop us off first.

As we exited the clown car, I bolted after my little brother, planning on getting back at him. Because of my heavy backpack, uncomfortable shoes, and awful sense of balance, I fell on the hard pavement. Swiftly, whole carpool rushed to my aid. They lifted my hefty backpack, collected my fallen items, and helped me stand up. With tears in my eyes, I limped into the house.

“You realize I will punish you for chasing your brother after this,” my mom said to me in her no nonsense voice. She obviously didn’t know how much I was hurt, or she would have been more sensitive. My mom had to leave to drop of the other members of our carpool at their homes, leaving me alone to clean up my wounds. I discovered a little scratch on my left knee and a massive wound on my right knee. Above my lip I also found a tiny cut. When my mother arrived back home, I complained to her the pain I was feeling in my right arm, the same arm I had fallen on. We then went to the pediatrician. There the pediatrician bandaged my injuries and she sent me off to get x-rays. There I got x-rays and a sling, and they informed me that I would get the results of the x-rays the next day.

The following morning, my mother and I drove to the orthopedic specialist. The bone doctor, a boring man with no personality, explained to me that I had a slight fracture in my right elbow. So I got a neon pink, full arm cast.

Ever since I was a kid my mom had told me that if I ever fell I should never put out my arm to catch myself. That was how she broke her wrist as a kid. So when I fell I didn’t put my arm out. I didn’t break my wrist but I broke my elbow instead.

I got attention at school the next day because friends wanted to sign my cast and I was exempt from taking notes in class. But breaking my arm had more consequences than benefits. I was forced to write with my left hand instead of my right, I had to wrap my arm in garbage bag before showering, and I had to go to health instead of PE.

Although it was an awful six weeks, but I think I deserved it for plotting revenge against my brother. I realized what goes around comes around. That can also work in reverse as well. So now I not only try to be a nicer sister, but a nicer person in general. I don’t always succeed, but there haven’t been any broken bones in the family since.