The CLub

April 8, 2013
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“Faster, faster!” I yelled, as my surroundings whizzed by faster and faster. I tried to pretend I had as much courage as it sounded like but the sweat kept dripping. The last place in the universe I wanted to be was in my exact position, on a tricycle attached to a bike rolling down suicide hill. We were arriving at a turn and I began to brace myself to jump on the grass so I wouldn’t kill myself. Just as he was slowing down, a car zipped out of nowhere which forced Kyle to swerve sharply. I shot sideways off the baby toy and gashed my elbow, knee, and shoulder on the curb. Out of my blood shot eyes, I watched Kyle’s freaked out reaction as his head turned around and without thinking, he started to dash up the street toward my house. I assumed he was retrieving some bandages but I was in so much shock from my injury, I couldn’t think properly. In the distance, I heard his faint cry to Ryan telling him to stay with me, so he could get help.
I sat there shirtless with my blood covered clothing wrapped around my knee. Ryan then muttered to himself “I can’t believe this happened, I hope you’re okay, I hope you’re okay.” It looked as if he was saying prayers to himself, and to be honest, I hope he was because maybe it might have helped a tiny bit. My surroundings started to blend together and my eyelids started to droop. I wondered if it was from blood loss, or just being stunned. Or even worse...both. As I was sprawled out on the pavement, Kyle came sprinting over the horizon, panting like a dog. With him was not bandages or anything for healing, but the old 1900’s creaking red wagon with rusty dilapidated wheels. When he reached me, my two best friends hauled me into to the wagon and that was the last thing I saw before I went unconscious and fainted.
A bright L.E.D. light, heads bobbing around me, and a lot of chitter-chatter made me wonder where I was . I started to feel the soft cushiony material I was laying on. Everything was so blurred together like I was wearing my mom’s high prescription glasses. I felt so strangely relaxed and comfortable. The clothes I was wearing smelled like clean washing machine soap. With a grunt I tried to sit up, but my neck felt like I was being tasered, so I flopped back down like a fish out of water. I then remembered crashing the three wheeler and fainting.
The cushions I was perched on ended up being the couch in my living-room. The twelve heads over me were the remains of my family and the families of my two friends. They retold the accident but I tuned out and started dreaming of flying in the clouds. I don’t know why this scenery came to my mind. Maybe it helped me relax or maybe it meant I was going to heaven... but I highly doubted that.
All I wanted then, was to get some rest, heal my injuries, and keep dreaming the best dream I had ever dreamed. Then I remembered and tugged off the blanket which was covering me. The sight didn’t make me feel any better. Every inch of the right side of my body, except under my arm was wrapped in bloody, bloody, bandages. A little relieved, but still scared to death, for the third time, I returned into the bright, blue sky with clouds whiter than anything I have ever seen in my whole life. I had never felt this good before and I hoped the feeling would last forever. The only sound that entered my mind was sweet chirps from blue birds and mocking birds. Even if someone played the drums, shot a gun, or even blew a horn in my ear, I wouldn’t hear it. And that’s exactly what I did.
By the time I woke up, it was past noon on Monday. Forgetting everything that recently occured to me, I jumped out from under the covers and started packing my back-pack. Just then, my mom galloped down the stairs humming a song that I was too worried to worry about recognizing. “What are you doing?” she shrieked,” school gets out in two hours!” I glanced around the room as if other people with me would explain more to me, or to find a clock, but nobody was there and a clock wasn’t in sight so I sat back down on the couch with the most baffled face. My mom and I both started bursting out, laughing in unison as if it was planned. For the first meal in over twenty-four hours, my decision was a ham sandwich. Like my deep sleep, the food tasted like a five star fancy restaurant even though it was Stop and Shop’s Boars Head meat.
The crash was almost like a jinx. After my brother’s routine after school six bowls of cereal, I watched him jog outside, hop on his bike and ride to his neighborhood friend’s house. I thought to myself how lucky he was to be able to play with his friends while I was cooped up sleeping on the couch. But this wouldn’t be long for him...
I heard my friends call to see how I was feeling, but being so lazy, I just let the phone ring and ring and ring. Just then, the gardeners started mowing our lawns with their 21st century machines.The birds chirped, and I heard a faint yell but figured it was some teen-agers up to mischief. Remembering my hockey practice that night didn’t cheer me up a bit; actually, it made me more miserable. For me, missing a hockey practice is like getting a C+ on a math test. But that’s not all, my class was on a field trip at Mystic Seaport eating candy and exploring immense wooden whaling boats.
Preparing for the next school day, I started to think of a simplified version of how I got hurt when I remembered Ryan and Kyle probably already spread the word about the disaster. I wondered if anyone even cared or if they just thought I was a big sissy.
The yelp I heard previously didn’t turn out so good. I pretended to be sleeping and saw out of the corner of my eye, my brother, Dylan, moaning, and clutching his side in pain. “Oh no,” I thought to myself,” what happened this time?” My nervous mom sprang into action cleaning and bandaging his cuts and scrapes. He hobbled over to me, and just before he laid down, I pulled up my shirt to reveal the scars, saw his astonished face, and painfully whispered, “join the club.”

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