We were walking to the school bus stop, Joe and I, when coming across the center line, on the wrong side of the road, a car advances right behind us, slamming me onto the hood of the car, and then stopping as I slid off.
It was the begining of the school year when every morning Joe and I would walk down the street to a friends house where we would catch the bus to school. A short walk, maybe 5-6 houses down the road. Once there we would stand out with our friends, sneak cigarettes, and wait for the bus.
My father never understood our having to walk down the street to catch the bus that would stop right in front of our own house, and angrly begrudged our doing so. Or maybe knowing we were up to no good, he actually did understand?
The sun was gently rising as we walked to the bus stop. I remember consciously choosing to have Joe walk in the grass and myself on the edge of the road, plus I was wearing my heels which allowed my jeans to fall perfectly over, and couldn't possibly walk in the grass. Recently moving from the city, we described our new home as a hick town since there were no sidewalks, so Joe and I walked on the edge of the street towards oncoming traffic.
With our attention only on the traffic before us, we never saw it coming, as the car struck me from behind. The driver, on his way home from a third shift job had dozed off for a brief second, sending him across the center lane and right into me.
It all happened so quickly, I was on the hood of the car and then on the pavement in a matter of seconds. I'd like to believe I saved my brother since he was off the road and didn't get hit, but maybe he saved me?
I was disoriented on the ground looking for my shoes, one was later found a house away and on the other side of the street broken in pieces. I thought my sister was going to kill me since now her jeans were torn!
We hadn't gotten too far from home, and before I knew it my brother Joe took off running towards our house to get help. During that time the driver moved me to the passenger side of the car, something I learned later he shouldn't have done.
The chaos at home began as my parents recognized Joe coming as he gasped for breath while running towards the house. Knowing something was wrong my father was up and getting dressed as Joe bolted through the door screaming "Tina got hit by a car". My father told everyone to stay here and call ambulance as he headed to the scene, and was by my side in what seemed like minutes. Soon we began to hear the sirens scream closer and waited the for the police and ambulance to arrive.
Not one broken bone, doctors said it was probably the heels that saved me, taking me up and above the car instead of down and under. Lots of aches and pains and one enormous ugly bruise going up the back of my leg.
I was on crutches for a while and it was during this time my father and I headed up to the mall where he carried my sandals that were broken in pieces and said "I don't think these shoes should have broken like this." He failed to mention I was hit by a car. We walked out of the mall, him carrying my new shoes, and myself limping on crutches.
As for the jeans, it was the first time Debbie was not mad at me for wearing her clothes, and the jeans are all but a distant memory since they had to be cut off me in the emergency room...