Oil and Gasoline

It was like any other sunny spring day at Monroe Career and Technical Institute, and I was preparing to board the buses back to our home school with my friends from Law Enforcement Class. Our ride back to Pleasant Valley High School was only about a half hour and we normally didn’t get stuck in any traffic. So when the bus came to a halt on one of the side roads that we usually traveled, it piqued my interest to look out the window like the rest of the students on the bus with me.
Right before our eyes was a freshly-occurred car accident. From the looks of it from where we were, there was only one car on the road; what could have happened to the other one? I asked myself. My heart started racing and my blood was boiling. You see, in Law Enforcement class, they teach you the basics. This included First Aid and CPR, so seeing the accident before me I jumped out of my seat. I heard someone from the back of the bus yell, “That’s Cory's car!”; a classmate who unfortunately drove to MCTI earlier in the day. Later we learned that he had tried to pass in a no-passing zone and struck another car head on. My eyes widened when I looked at the wreckage.
“You have to let us off this bus!” I yelled to the bus driver. “Please, what if he’s seriously injured?” The female bus driver that had always been so nice over the past year simply shook her head no. I argued with her for a few more seconds, stating the fact that morally I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing and that I was legally certified. My adrenaline at this point was through the roof and my heart was pounding in my ears. So without thinking I reached up and pulled the emergency release on the front doors to the bus, bolting towards the accident. Closely behind me were two friends of mine from my Law Enforcement class (who were also certified), Justin and Ebony.
When we reached the car, all three of us had the same initial reaction – shock. There was pieces of the car scattered around us, the smell of gasoline and oil entered my nostrils and made my head hurt. I could see it pooling around the car, which was now off and empty. A few bystanders who had arrived a few minutes earlier than us had pulled my classmate out of the car (which, in a medical standpoint, was probably a bad idea) and laid him on the concrete several feet away. After a few seconds of Justin, Ebony and myself standing there with our hands over our mouths, completely and utterly shocked, we flew into action.
The second car in the accident had gone off the road into an embankment and finally stopped when it hit a tree. I let my friends go handle that. My job was to handle the screaming, crying, bloody mess that was Cory. Acting from instinct and the knowledge I received in class, I tore my cardigan off of my shoulders and laid it under his head. I analyzed the situation and tried to calm my unsteady breathing so I could focus – Okay, he’s going to be fine.
As I scanned Cory’s body, the tunnel vision started to kick in and all I could see is what was right in front of me. It’s hard to explain tunnel vision if you’ve never experienced it before. Remember when you were a kid and you would take empty paper towel tubes to use them as a telescope? It’s much like that, only a lot scarier. You can’t hear anything but the sound of your own heart thumping in your ears and even after all the techniques I learned to avoid this, it still happened to me.
“I don’t want to die, please! I want my mom!” I kid you not, this is what snapped me out of my temporary freak out. I hushed him, telling him it was going to be alright. “My legs, I can’t move my legs!” It was true; there was no way in hell he was moving his legs until the hospital took care of him. Both of his shins had been broken from the impact, and I could very obviously see bone poking out from beneath his jeans. I looked Cory in the eyes and told him very specifically not to move his legs, that if he did it would only make it hurt more, and told him once again that it was going to be alright.
It didn’t take long for the ambulance to arrive but when they did, they nearly had to pull me away because I was so focused on Cory. I made sure to grab the cardigan that I had donated before walking away and letting the professionals handle it. But when I picked it up, I nearly threw it back on the ground. The stench of gasoline and oil was soaked into the material, and after all the commotion it made me a little nauseous. Justin trotted up to me and, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, directed me back to the bus we had been on earlier.
Walking back, I was already an emotional train wreck. One of the other bus drivers decided to be extremely insensitive and yelled out her window as we walked past. I gave her a few choice words and gestures, generally telling her to go shove off, and continued my way to the bus. Once I got on, I plopped down in my seat and broke out in tears. I cried the whole way to Pleasant Valley and cried some more when the superintendent of the school entered the bus and reprimanded us for our reckless behavior. However, I stood up and justified my actions to him before storming off the bus. I was so angry that someone would get mad at me for helping in a dire situation! However, we never got into any real trouble. I kept telling myself that if I hadn’t been there, Cory most likely would have gone into shock and his conditions could have been a lot worse.
It was a traumatizing, terrifying experience for my two friends and I. I mean after all, we were only seventeen and had never been exposed to any sort of real accident scene before. Luckily the support we received from our other Law Enforcement classmates prevented us from developing any type of minor Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. They even went so far as to force us to go talk to one of the MCTI counselors, making us all appointments both separately and together. I don’t think I ever thanked them enough.
A few weeks later, Cory was back in school (on crutches). Originally I never talked to the kid, and I’m pretty sure he didn't even know my name. But when I asked a few people who did know him how he was doing, they told me he didn't remember anything from the accident except for a short, little blonde girl helping him. I never got a thank you from him, but honestly I was never looking for one. At that point in time, I think I just wanted my sweater to stop smelling of oil and gasoline. But looking back I know I did what was right, and what I would want someone else to do if I had been in Cory’s situation.