David, part two

This is what I remember: halfway down the hill I realized I was going too fast and I pressed the brakes but nothing happened—they didn’t work, I couldn’t stop, and at the bottom of the hill was a busy road with cars and trucks, and my brother. He had gone down the hill first and I was trying, on my little bike, to follow him, like I always did.

He saw me coming, he was stopping traffic, and I would have made it if I had just kept on going, but I was looking at my brother: I figured if anyone could get me out of this alive, he could. My bike crashed into his and I was thrown into the air and I don’t remember landing in the road, but I remember a lady on the sidewalk screaming.

I remember opening my eyes and my hands were bleeding and my knees were bleeding and my head ached.

I remember that my brother got to me first and I remember how he gathered me, so slowly, so carefully, how he carried me, and I was dripping snot and tears all down his shirt but he didn’t say a word about it, just carried me up the hill to Mom and Dad.

He told me I was okay: nothing was broken.
 

Danielle ShullComment