Chapter #1Tragedy on Wilson Street by: BL   "Hey Julie, check this out!" Carlos called boastfully to his little sis.
A chubby, eight year old girl with pig tails, overalls, and sparkling blue eyes grinned broadly at her big brother, a person whom she equated with God Almighty Himself. Julie felt nothing but pure, unbridled adoration for the boy, two years her elder and everything a girl could ask for in an older brother. Summer vacation, the most joyous of reprieves for a preadolescent youth, was only three weeks old, and the sun was blazing high on its perch, warming Julie's skin and basking Carlos' lean, tanned figure in glorious orange light. If there was ever justification for Julie's deification of her older brother, it was now, as he skated backwards down Wilson street, the most dangerous hill in their neighborhood, boldly defying gravity and the perils of death. One of the most wonderful things about youth is the wreckless disregard for Murphy's Law.
Thomas Bradley, a gangly, quiet kid, and Carlos' best bud, chased him gayly down the street. Julie, meanwhile, played it safe, sticking to the sidewalk and bringing up the rear. All was right with the world for Julie Huerta, but in a few short moments her world would never be the same. For her, at the moment, ignorance was bliss.
For no apparent reason, things on Wilson street suddenly took a horrible turn for the worse. Carlos' balance betrayed him. His legs locked up and his arms began pinwheeling in front of him in an attempt to ward off the inevitable fall and scathing pavement that awaited. His cool, cocky smile faded into a mask of horror as he sped backwards down the hill at a break-neck pace. "Chuckie, look out!" Julie screamed, almost in complete unison with Tom, but Chuckie could not look out. He had lost all control and went hurtling blindly into the Wilson and McCartney Blvd intersection.
The driver of the magenta '92 Chevy Suburban, Ms. Theresa Rosa, never saw the boy coming. A blur of blue fabric flashed across her field of vision; she didn't even have time to press the brake pedal before she felt a thud and heard the unmistakable sound of something heavy thumping against the windshield. She slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop, looking in her rear view mirror and praying that she was wrong. Praying that it wasn't a boy lying on the side of the road behind her. And it wasn't his blood splashed across her windshield.
As she approached the huddled mass on the curb and the small boy kneeling over said huddled mass, crying for it to get up, Theresa Rosa knew her life had changed forever. "Oh Jesus, Dios mio," she gasped.
Ms. Rosa had been going the posted limit of 50 mph and she had done nothing wrong, but for the rest of her days she would be stricken with guilt. She would be haunted by nightmares in which a crumpled and marred boy would ask her "why?" over and over again. She would have no answer for his question. She didn't know why. Life is sometimes unfair, the world cruel and uncaring.
Tom sped after his friend, but could not catch up. He was forced to watch helplessly as the suburban plowed into Chuckie, sending him flying through the air like a rag doll. Chuck landed on the curb with a sickening crunch, and Tom knew before he even reached his friend's side that it was the end of the line.
His ten year old eyes were horrified by what they saw as he approached his broken friend. The first thing he noticed was Chuckie's bare feet. The impact had not only knocked him clean out of his skates, but out of his socks too. How fucking wild was that? Tom wondered if there were a pair of roller skates in the street somewhere behind him with the socks, still molded in the shape of Chuckie's feet, tucked neatly inside.
Chuckie was a mess. Blood was oozing out of his ears, nose, and mouth, the right side of his head was caved in, ribs were poking out of his blue Ninja Turtles T shirt, and his left leg was bent backwards at an impossible angle. A pool of blood was forming underneath him, and more of it was splashed across the sidewalk and street. Tears were streaming from both Chuckie's and Tom's eyes, and Chuckie was staring around at the world with shocked disbelief. His frightened eyes found Tom's, and dim recognition surfaced on the dying boy's face. Amazingly, he began to speak.
"Tom."
"You're hurt, Chuckie," Tom cried.
"Tom, what happened?" Chuck asked in bewilderment.
"You're hurt bad, Chuckie."
Chuckie sighed and his eyes began to close. "NO!" Tom cried. "GET UP CHUCKIE! PLEASE GET UP!"
Chuckie's eyes fluttered open briefly. "Tom... I'm scared... I..."
"Chucky, no," Tom cried.
"Take... Jooo... Julie" The life faded from his eyes and Chuckie breathed his last. His painfully short life was extinguished. Tom looked back at Julie, who was standing at a distance, frozen in shock.
"He's gone."
Julie's knees went weak. She fell to the ground and began weeping uncontrollably. Heartbroken and devastated, burdened beyond his years, Tom went to Julie and held her. It was not a completely wasted effort to ease her inconsolable grief, and Julie and Tom's friendship grew strong through the coming years. In time Julie was once again the cheerful and vibrant girl Tom remembered, although her life after that day was never quite the same. | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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