By Darien G.

I was habitually walking home from school yesterday morning. 15 minutes if I walk fast and 20 if I saunter slowly. I put my earphones on and started my walk. After two blocks on my school’s street I always turn right on vine street. This is the only way I knew of heading in the direction of my house.
The entrance of the street was blocked off by three cars. I did not perceive anyone to be there until I walked behind the car and what I saw traumatized me. There were 3 people helping an unconscious young boy get oxygen and stop his bleeding. The other two were calling 911 and screaming for more people to come help. Their screams grasped my attention.
“How can I be of use?’’ I asked, screaming and sprinting over towards them.
They didn’t even bother looking at me, thus they were doing everything in their power to save the boy. I statically watched the scene unfold.
There was no crosswalk in sight of where the young boy seemed to have been hit, this was a dead end street. How could someone have been going so fast? I wondered. I went over to the lady who was sobbing and speaking aloud to herself in Spanish. I spoke Spanish and knew I had to step up and talk to her.
I asked her what had happened. She went on to tell me she did not hit the boy but was enraged to see that the truck in front of her hit him and drove away. She also told me that everyone thought she hit him even though that was far from the truth. She thought that I ought to go explain to the police when they came that she did not hit him and we do not know who had..
We were all so worried about the boy that I did not regard it as an appropriate time to tell the others of her innocence while he was suffering. This came to be my most sincere regret of the whole situation.
An hour later when everything deemed settled I strolled home shaking. I got a call from an unknown number, I always pick up the phone to unknown numbers. I heard Ms Patricio sobbing into the phone. I asked her what had happened and she disclosed to me in Spanish that she had been arrested. One of the people at the scene had written a police report stating that Ms Patricio was going 20 miles per hour over the speed limit on the residential one way street and had hit the young boy. Ms Patricio did not come across as angry towards me but instead sad that she would miss her flight back home to Spain, this meant she would not see her kids or husband for over a month and when she gets there she would dread living to tell her children that she had been arrested in the U.S. I sobbed with her emotions in a way I had never felt. I felt guilty for not writing the police report myself, if I had I would have told them that Ms Patricio did not in fact hit him she would not have been arrested. I felt true Guilt.

About the Author

Darien is 14, he is going into high school in California. He enjoys writing short stories. He is going to “B” High School next year.