A Not-So-Joyful Ride

She takes one last quick look in the mirror before grabbing her bag and jumping into the car. A few minutes later her mom stops the car to let her out. “No sex, drugs or alcohol,” her mother warns, smiling. She returns the smile and promises to try and refrain. They have an understanding; this is how things are. Her mother leaves unconcerned. Her daughter is smart. She makes good decisions. She knows better. The girl walks to where the fire is blazing and drops her bag in the tent. She joins the others around the fire. They spend the next hours laughing, talking, being teenagers. A few came, some go, and then one promises to return later. They climb into sleeping bags; it’s nearly two a.m. But he returns as promised. Everyone hurries out to meet him, their eyes shining with excitement. He’s come in a van. A van that’s not his, but his family’s. They want to go somewhere, anywhere; it’s the excitement they want. They crave the thrill. They pile in, and she follows slowly. She knows it’s wrong, and the driver has no license, but she’s tired of being the good one they make fun of. She wants to fit in. So she gets in anyway. She’s scared, but thrilled like the rest. She glances to the boy in seat across from her, the girl in front of her. Both are calm and she can’t figure out why. She chews her lower lip nervously, all the what-ifs flying through her mind, but she remains silent. They depart, and something in the trunk clangs with every bump they hit, adding to her nerves. They assure her he’s a good driver, that nothing will happen, that they won’t get caught, and she believes them. They pass right by her own home. She could get out, go home, but she doesn’t. Instead she sits quietly, as the van full of kids speeds down the highway. Tow bright lights come into view. She closes her eyes shut tight and squeezes the seat until her knuckles turn white. She clenches her jaw and braces herself for the impact. The sound of her friends’ screaming and the sickening screech of twisting and crashing metal fills her head. She opens her eyes and sees her friends. None of them have a mark on them. The van continues to fly along the highway as she slows her pounding heart. They ask her if she’s ok. She tells them no and tells them to pull over. She borrows a phone, and despite their protests, calls her mom. She’s a smart kid. She makes good decisions. She knows better.