Six Feet Above Me
Adrenaline High Accident
>> 3 Months Ago
The party of the year was happening at my friend's house on a Saturday night since his parents went on a Carnival Cruise and I was able to have easy access for my parents whom thought my friend was good enough that I can go to a party of his.
It was pretty wild: alcoholic drinks were served chilled, scorching babes were roaming around the place like flies and us guys are spiders casting them in our web trap, and dancing was a dangerously close second base to get in bed with a chick.
My friend's home was a mansion that can fit 5,000 or so people, which was almost the limit of how many students of our student body had, went to the party. Though we were known to the school as the Popular Guys, above the Hot Jocks and next to the popular opposite gender.
There was Jake, Skye, Terry, Johnny [Cake], and I, Liam.
Anyways, after drinking extra strong Vodka with Terry (his party) and the others, we went out back to the racetrack Terry had for his fourteenth birthday. Drinking more of that Martini, Johnny Cake said, in drunken determination, "How 'bout burnin' some wheels, Terr? It would be a BLAST!"
Once he mentioned it, some of the Hot Jocks, Corey Davis and Sonny Myles drinking some Tequila came over and agreed with Johnny. "Yeah Jones. Let's burn some rubber!" Suddenly everything went to fast until I realized I'd be the driver in one of Terry's 2005 Shelby GT500 Mustangs (black with yellow stripes on front). Having a black racing helmet and feeling more wasted than the usual drinking limit, I was ready to go, as I was against Sonny in Terry's red and black mustang.
We'd both turned on the ignition, put the vehicles on 'drive' waiting for Skye to shout 'GO!'
Skye said, "One..Two..Three..GO!" We'd pressed onto the pedal like if it was Death we were escaping. I zoomed past Sonny as I did a hairpin turn. It took at least two minutes for Sonny to catch up to me as we do a rear slip angle and sped off ahead near the next turn.
My adrenaline was pumping through my veins as I gripped onto the steering wheel. Then, out of nowhere my life was spinning through my mind and my vision was getting blurry by the second. I did a Shift Lock on another turn (I think). Now I definitely can tell the burn of rubber from another car was Sonny and he's ahead of me.
The next moment I remember was that I started to lose control of Shelby simultaneously my grip on the steering wheel had loosen and my right foot went off the accelerator. My mind was shutting off and on at me like a virus-contained computer. The helmet I was wearing was making my drunken face sweating with tiredness and too much energy wasted from the drinking and racing.
Before I blacked out into the abyss of my noggin, I remembered Shelby and I drove maniacally off the track and turned over and over and so on until getting hit by a nearby tree stopped the action and my consciousness.
Now
I rolled my way onto the ramp of West Side High, having lack of spirit in me. My red hair swished past along inside the building with my Mom who helped me getting to the main office also my sister, Annalise in her Hannah Montana wear and carrying her pink Bratz backpack.
Sorway; Liam Sorway is the name. My condition is like how anyone is when being the victim of a car crash.
So I guess wheelchair would be in anyone's mind. Either that idea or they can think of Spinal Cord Injury. Or they can say 'paralyzed from the waist down'.
Anyways, we all three went into the principle's office. 'Mr. Burns', eh? Reminds me of The Simpson's. The brown haired (a few gray hairs in there though) man behind the chair must be him with the face of astonishment. Maybe he never seen a mixed family before in view of the fact that I have a peach skin, Mom has Hershey skin, and my sister is a light shade of brown.
"Well, um, you must be Liam's mother," Mr. Burns started to say.
Diversity issues?
I dealt with this problem before but I'm okay with it. "..Nonetheless this school could make Liam outshine himself in the future," Burns continued. My mom, being well, mom, ate this up quickly like the time she cleaned the house under an hour. This might be because she has to drop Annalise to the elementary, which is a good five minutes from here, and go off to work.
"Yeah, sure," Mom said and turned to me, "you'll be okay, right?"
"Yeah," I said before I followed them out (Mom said a polite bye to the principal) though I went in the hallway finding my locker as they went out to the front door.
***
"Locker 363," I mumbled as I passed the lockers. "Locker 366. Locker 369, there you are." I wheeled to my destination but I hit on something.
Or someone for that matter.
"Sorry," we unison. I looked up from my knees and up to the brown eyes of a girl my age. She has straight dark brown/black hair that's up to her shoulders. She's surely way too pretty to be seen with me.
"Hi, I'm Samantha, Sam for short, and you?" She said quickly. Maybe it's the wheelchair.
Expect the unexpected.
"Hey," I stuttered, "Liam. You already can see I'm paralyzed and need to put some things away. As I can tell by your voice, you don't want to be around me." I stretched up to get to my lock:'10(the age I love)- 21(Starbursts I ate within one minute)- 16(the age my spinal cord hurts).
The locker, as if automatically, opened. I was about to shove my books into it until 'Sam' caught my books and put them in, nicely, instead while a boy in a Letterman jacket came by giving her a small peck on the cheek and looked at me as if I'm only a weakling.
"Hey, Wheelie, how are those legs doing? Not much, I suppose, to kick my ass or anything else, of course."
Dumb-ass! It was the last thing I thought before I closed my locker as the bell rang.
The party of the year was happening at my friend's house on a Saturday night since his parents went on a Carnival Cruise and I was able to have easy access for my parents whom thought my friend was good enough that I can go to a party of his.
It was pretty wild: alcoholic drinks were served chilled, scorching babes were roaming around the place like flies and us guys are spiders casting them in our web trap, and dancing was a dangerously close second base to get in bed with a chick.
My friend's home was a mansion that can fit 5,000 or so people, which was almost the limit of how many students of our student body had, went to the party. Though we were known to the school as the Popular Guys, above the Hot Jocks and next to the popular opposite gender.
There was Jake, Skye, Terry, Johnny [Cake], and I, Liam.
Anyways, after drinking extra strong Vodka with Terry (his party) and the others, we went out back to the racetrack Terry had for his fourteenth birthday. Drinking more of that Martini, Johnny Cake said, in drunken determination, "How 'bout burnin' some wheels, Terr? It would be a BLAST!"
Once he mentioned it, some of the Hot Jocks, Corey Davis and Sonny Myles drinking some Tequila came over and agreed with Johnny. "Yeah Jones. Let's burn some rubber!" Suddenly everything went to fast until I realized I'd be the driver in one of Terry's 2005 Shelby GT500 Mustangs (black with yellow stripes on front). Having a black racing helmet and feeling more wasted than the usual drinking limit, I was ready to go, as I was against Sonny in Terry's red and black mustang.
We'd both turned on the ignition, put the vehicles on 'drive' waiting for Skye to shout 'GO!'
Skye said, "One..Two..Three..GO!" We'd pressed onto the pedal like if it was Death we were escaping. I zoomed past Sonny as I did a hairpin turn. It took at least two minutes for Sonny to catch up to me as we do a rear slip angle and sped off ahead near the next turn.
My adrenaline was pumping through my veins as I gripped onto the steering wheel. Then, out of nowhere my life was spinning through my mind and my vision was getting blurry by the second. I did a Shift Lock on another turn (I think). Now I definitely can tell the burn of rubber from another car was Sonny and he's ahead of me.
The next moment I remember was that I started to lose control of Shelby simultaneously my grip on the steering wheel had loosen and my right foot went off the accelerator. My mind was shutting off and on at me like a virus-contained computer. The helmet I was wearing was making my drunken face sweating with tiredness and too much energy wasted from the drinking and racing.
Before I blacked out into the abyss of my noggin, I remembered Shelby and I drove maniacally off the track and turned over and over and so on until getting hit by a nearby tree stopped the action and my consciousness.
Now
I rolled my way onto the ramp of West Side High, having lack of spirit in me. My red hair swished past along inside the building with my Mom who helped me getting to the main office also my sister, Annalise in her Hannah Montana wear and carrying her pink Bratz backpack.
Sorway; Liam Sorway is the name. My condition is like how anyone is when being the victim of a car crash.
So I guess wheelchair would be in anyone's mind. Either that idea or they can think of Spinal Cord Injury. Or they can say 'paralyzed from the waist down'.
Anyways, we all three went into the principle's office. 'Mr. Burns', eh? Reminds me of The Simpson's. The brown haired (a few gray hairs in there though) man behind the chair must be him with the face of astonishment. Maybe he never seen a mixed family before in view of the fact that I have a peach skin, Mom has Hershey skin, and my sister is a light shade of brown.
"Well, um, you must be Liam's mother," Mr. Burns started to say.
Diversity issues?
I dealt with this problem before but I'm okay with it. "..Nonetheless this school could make Liam outshine himself in the future," Burns continued. My mom, being well, mom, ate this up quickly like the time she cleaned the house under an hour. This might be because she has to drop Annalise to the elementary, which is a good five minutes from here, and go off to work.
"Yeah, sure," Mom said and turned to me, "you'll be okay, right?"
"Yeah," I said before I followed them out (Mom said a polite bye to the principal) though I went in the hallway finding my locker as they went out to the front door.
***
"Locker 363," I mumbled as I passed the lockers. "Locker 366. Locker 369, there you are." I wheeled to my destination but I hit on something.
Or someone for that matter.
"Sorry," we unison. I looked up from my knees and up to the brown eyes of a girl my age. She has straight dark brown/black hair that's up to her shoulders. She's surely way too pretty to be seen with me.
"Hi, I'm Samantha, Sam for short, and you?" She said quickly. Maybe it's the wheelchair.
Expect the unexpected.
"Hey," I stuttered, "Liam. You already can see I'm paralyzed and need to put some things away. As I can tell by your voice, you don't want to be around me." I stretched up to get to my lock:'10(the age I love)- 21(Starbursts I ate within one minute)- 16(the age my spinal cord hurts).
The locker, as if automatically, opened. I was about to shove my books into it until 'Sam' caught my books and put them in, nicely, instead while a boy in a Letterman jacket came by giving her a small peck on the cheek and looked at me as if I'm only a weakling.
"Hey, Wheelie, how are those legs doing? Not much, I suppose, to kick my ass or anything else, of course."
Dumb-ass! It was the last thing I thought before I closed my locker as the bell rang.