A young victim needs advice. |
"I can get some at Whole Foods," I told my Grandmother. She needed saffron for a recipe. "They have a good spice department." They also had Kevin bagging groceries at the checkout, but Grammy didn't need to know that. "If I can borrow your car, I'll be back in no time," I said putting on my most responsible face. "Get me a blade of mace too," my wonderful Grammy said. Grabbed the keys, and out the door. A quick text message before I left the driveway. "Kari, running an errand to Whole Foods. I'll pick you up in two minutes." The two of us had been checking Kevin out at school. This gave us a valid excuse to get closer. Kari was waiting at the curb. She'd thrown on a sharp sweater; wished I thought of that. "Are you sure Kevin will be there today?" Kari asked. "According to his Facebook page," I said. We were crossing the last intersection before the store. A flash of light from my left, a scream from Kari, and then nothing. I don't know how long it took me to remember that much, but Doctor Carling says that I'm making wonderful progress. He finally let me read the police report. It describes a speeding truck entering the intersection against a red light, striking a car to our left that was going in the opposite direction, and flipping up in the air to land squarely on top of Grammy's car. Squashed us like a bug. My world has changed. Kari's gone. I don't have a friend to talk to about boys. My face may never look responsible again, assuming anyone would want to look at it. I didn't get Grammy the saffron or mace. And I never got close to Kevin. What should I do? |