Selfish Remorse

         The snow heavily fell all around her, blurring her vision. She casualy walked in the middle of the raod, sliding on the frozen puddles all around her. Tomorrows Christmas, she thought as she let out a short, excited sigh. This would be her first Christmas with presants wrapped in red and blue and green. With a brightly decorated tree that had a star on top. First time drinking hot chocolate by the fire place singing Christmas songs. This will be her first Christmas with a family that actually cares for her, the only family she has ever really known. After being dropped on doorstep after doorstep, put here, put there, rules in one house, carefree in the other, Jamie was finally placed in a foster family that actually seemed to want her around. They enjoyed her company. Jamie was on her way to the toy store to pick out a truck for her three year old foster brother, Alan. she had fifteen dollars in her pocket, hopefully enough money to buy him a new toy truck. Jamie finally arrived at the store and entered excitedly, skipping and singing through the double doors. The cashier glanced at her, seeming uninterested, and instantly went back to counting his money. She strolled down every ile, searching for the perfect truck, when her cell phone started ringing. It was her foster mom.

         "Hello?" Jamie answered. No answer. She tried again. "Hello, Mom? Are you there?" Still no answer. Thinking nothing of it, she slipped the phone back into the pocket of her jeans, and headed up another ile. She heard the background music in the store, and hummed along to the beat. She stopped suddenly, starting at the perfect truck for her foster brother. It was a bright red fire truck, the same size as a football. On one side there was a brown latter, that if you pushed a button the ladder would descend down the side of the truck. The lights would flash, and a loud sound would fill the ears of anybody near, sounding like an actual fire truck. She scopped up the toy and glidded to the cashregister. The cashier, still counting his money looked up and took the toy from her hands. Her blues eyes met the cashiers scrutinizing ice stare. What is his problem, she wondered.

         "$13.25," he said flatly. She handed him the money quickly, eager to get home.

         "Here you go sir. Have a nice day. Merry Christmas." She grabbed the bag and scurried out the door.

         Jamie power-walked all the way home, excited to wrap up the presant. She rounded the corner, and Jamie saw two police cars parked in her driveway. Her heart started to race as she ran up the driveway, and into the house. It smelt of apple pie, and cinnamon. She heard faint whimpers in the background.

         "Mom? Dad?" she called, a large lump forming in her throat.

         "In here," her dad whined. Two police mem sat across from her foster dad, Adan. He looked older than usual. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face was pale. Jamie set the bag with Alans presant down on the table.

         "What's going on?" she asked. "Wheres Mom and Alan?"

         "Honey, maybe you should sit down." She sat down next to one of the police officers forgetting he was even there.

         "Alans at the hospital."

         "What?" she gasped. "What happ-"

         "Let me finish," he interupted. "Alan was outside playing in the yard. He had his little ball and I guess it rolled out into the street. A car had hit him. By the time I heard him scream, the car was driving away."

              He cleared his throat, tears forming in his eyes. Jamie began to tear up too. She could feel water pouring from her eyes, running down her cheek into her mouth. They tasted like salt, and she wiped the back of her hand on her face, washing away the tears, but only for a second. Her eyes weld up again, and she rested her head in her hands, suddenly feeling tired and weak. She kept mumbling no, no, no.

         "We tried to call you, but your mom just couldn't.." He trailed off, shaking his head. "She went with Alan to the hospital, and I stayed here to wait for you and talk to the police," he croaked out.

         "NO! No, no," she screamed, rage suddenly radiating through her whole body. "How could this happen?"

         Jamie sprang up from the coach, grabbed the bag containing the fire truck, and ran up to her room. She plopped down face first on the bed, and sobbed. How could this happen, she thought. This was suppose to be my first Christmas! Its not suppose to be this way. It was suppose to be perfect, but now everything was falling apart. She just realized she didn't even ask if Alan was okay. Maybe a part of her didn't care. Maybe she only cared about having a perfect Christmas. Another part disagreed. She loved Alan. She contemplated on going back downstairs to ask if he was okay, but she decided against it. Instead, she removed the toy from the plastic bag, and placed it on her bed. She pictured Alan playing with it. She knew he would have loved it.

         She heard faint footsteps on the staircase, walking the short distance to her room. After three knocks, and a long pause, Jamie told her dad to come in. He sat on the edge of the bed, and she knew this was the news she dreaded all along. She could tell by the saddened look upon her dads face.

         "He..he didn't make it," he cried, shaking his head.

         Jamie felt the world beneath her crumble, and the weight of his words crashing down on her shoulders like a ton of bricks. She felt her eyes roll in the back of her head, as she fell over, unconsious. She felt herself land on the red fire truck. The one that her three year old foster brother would never have to play with. The one she had gotten him for Christmas. A Christmas that she had never known, and she never would.