Atonement
August 19th, 2009, 07:25 PM
My mother had always said, “If you ever get a call to pick someone up from drinking at a party, you do it without question. I’d rather see you get out of bed than hear about someone drinking, driving, and dying. I don’t want to know who, what, or where, but you just go.” As soon as my brothers and I had our license, our own car, and a phone, we were to follow this guideline. All we had to do was get up, tell my mother that we had to go give someone a ride, and go get them. It never was as relevant as one fall night.
It was a Friday night. The atmosphere was dry and cool. I had just come home from a night of hanging out with friends. I was making my way to go to bed. I brushed my teeth, changed into pajamas, crawled into bed, and drifted off to sleep. At 12:17 a.m., my phone started playing my friend’s high-pitched ringtone. I picked up. Marcus, my friend, was difficult to understand because the other end of the call sounded loud and slurred. He explained that he was drunk, at a party, and needed to go home to make curfew. My mother’s words popped into my head. “I’ll be right there,” I assured him.
When I got in my red Chevrolet Blazer, I could see my breath. The frosty windows were hard to see through. It seemed like nature didn’t want me to go. I pulled out from my driveway and headed for the party. Very shortly, I saw two cop cars patrolling the streets. I saw a pair of bright yellow eyes staring at me 30 feet away. I slammed on my breaks because a deer had stopped in my path. Nature doesn’t want me to go. I slowly advanced around the deer and continued on.
When I arrived at the house, I could hear the heavy rap music from the house and saw all of the lights in the house were illuminated. I stepped out of the car and headed for the house. The cool air nipped at my ears. I didn’t care to knock at the door or ring the doorbell because I knew the owner. I simply walked in and started looking for my friend. Marcus was sprawled out on the floor passed out. There were beer cans all around him and people stepping over him not caring for his health. I nudged him. He didn’t move. I grabbed his head and gave it a good whack; he was startled into consciousness. Up to now, everything had gone wrong. It was well past the time that my license expired, due to its curfew, and I could’ve been caught or gotten in an accident several times. I helped my friend get up and put his arm over my shoulder as we staggered out. He tried talking but his speech was so slurred that it was gibberish to me. I laid him in the back seat of my car and buckled him in.
As I pulled away, I could only hope that I didn’t see any police. Yet, only two blocks away, I see a police officer. I turn in front of him and he follows me for a while. I mind my speed as to not give him any reason to pull me over, but he wanted a reason. I went 27 mph in the 25 mph zone and there were those red, blue, and white lights in my rear-view mirror. The side of the road was a gravel shoulder since I was on the edge of town next to a farm, so I slowly slid onto it. I turned off my music, and grabbed my license and registration for the officer. The patrol vehicle’s door slammed. A large, husky, and bearded man stepped out from the vehicle and advanced toward me. I was sweating in the cool fall air. I rolled down the window. “Do you know how fast you were going?” he barked.
“I suppose I was going just over 25 on the acceleration,” I murmured. I was going to lose my license. I was doing the right thing, and I was going to get in trouble. If I lose my license, I can’t even drive myself to school. I will have no life. I cursed under my breath.
“Is he okay?” the officer asked as he noticed Marcus passed out in the back seat of my car.
I quickly decided to come clean and hope for mercy. I did the right thing. I did what my mother told me to do. I was breaking the law by driving when my license’s curfew was done. I prayed for mercy.
“Was he at the party on 8th Street?” he interrogated.
“Sir, he called me for a ride to get home on time, and I would rather break my license law than have him try to drive,” I was doing all I could to not get a ticket and lose my license. This was all Marcus’s fault. If I lose my license, I will blame him forever.
“Have a good night and watch your speed,” is all he said. If I had the courage to make a move, I would have dropped my jaw. The officer let me go without even a formal warning. I, a stupid silly teenager, got away from a police officer without even a slap on the hand. I thanked God and pulled off the side of the road and headed to Marcus’s house. Marcus got him safely, only a little past curfew. I got home by 1:21 a.m. and my mom wasn’t exactly happy that I was gone so long.
The next day, the story of last night got around. It wasn’t my story that was told, but it was the story of another teenager who was at that same party. He drove home. The boy hit a deer and rammed into a light pole. The teenager lived through that incident with a few fractured ribs and a deep cut on his arm. Though, I would guess he’s happy that he’s alive at all. Marcus could have been in that car. I could have not picked up Marcus. My risk was worth the reward. Marcus could have died, had I not gotten out of bed.
It was a Friday night. The atmosphere was dry and cool. I had just come home from a night of hanging out with friends. I was making my way to go to bed. I brushed my teeth, changed into pajamas, crawled into bed, and drifted off to sleep. At 12:17 a.m., my phone started playing my friend’s high-pitched ringtone. I picked up. Marcus, my friend, was difficult to understand because the other end of the call sounded loud and slurred. He explained that he was drunk, at a party, and needed to go home to make curfew. My mother’s words popped into my head. “I’ll be right there,” I assured him.
When I got in my red Chevrolet Blazer, I could see my breath. The frosty windows were hard to see through. It seemed like nature didn’t want me to go. I pulled out from my driveway and headed for the party. Very shortly, I saw two cop cars patrolling the streets. I saw a pair of bright yellow eyes staring at me 30 feet away. I slammed on my breaks because a deer had stopped in my path. Nature doesn’t want me to go. I slowly advanced around the deer and continued on.
When I arrived at the house, I could hear the heavy rap music from the house and saw all of the lights in the house were illuminated. I stepped out of the car and headed for the house. The cool air nipped at my ears. I didn’t care to knock at the door or ring the doorbell because I knew the owner. I simply walked in and started looking for my friend. Marcus was sprawled out on the floor passed out. There were beer cans all around him and people stepping over him not caring for his health. I nudged him. He didn’t move. I grabbed his head and gave it a good whack; he was startled into consciousness. Up to now, everything had gone wrong. It was well past the time that my license expired, due to its curfew, and I could’ve been caught or gotten in an accident several times. I helped my friend get up and put his arm over my shoulder as we staggered out. He tried talking but his speech was so slurred that it was gibberish to me. I laid him in the back seat of my car and buckled him in.
As I pulled away, I could only hope that I didn’t see any police. Yet, only two blocks away, I see a police officer. I turn in front of him and he follows me for a while. I mind my speed as to not give him any reason to pull me over, but he wanted a reason. I went 27 mph in the 25 mph zone and there were those red, blue, and white lights in my rear-view mirror. The side of the road was a gravel shoulder since I was on the edge of town next to a farm, so I slowly slid onto it. I turned off my music, and grabbed my license and registration for the officer. The patrol vehicle’s door slammed. A large, husky, and bearded man stepped out from the vehicle and advanced toward me. I was sweating in the cool fall air. I rolled down the window. “Do you know how fast you were going?” he barked.
“I suppose I was going just over 25 on the acceleration,” I murmured. I was going to lose my license. I was doing the right thing, and I was going to get in trouble. If I lose my license, I can’t even drive myself to school. I will have no life. I cursed under my breath.
“Is he okay?” the officer asked as he noticed Marcus passed out in the back seat of my car.
I quickly decided to come clean and hope for mercy. I did the right thing. I did what my mother told me to do. I was breaking the law by driving when my license’s curfew was done. I prayed for mercy.
“Was he at the party on 8th Street?” he interrogated.
“Sir, he called me for a ride to get home on time, and I would rather break my license law than have him try to drive,” I was doing all I could to not get a ticket and lose my license. This was all Marcus’s fault. If I lose my license, I will blame him forever.
“Have a good night and watch your speed,” is all he said. If I had the courage to make a move, I would have dropped my jaw. The officer let me go without even a formal warning. I, a stupid silly teenager, got away from a police officer without even a slap on the hand. I thanked God and pulled off the side of the road and headed to Marcus’s house. Marcus got him safely, only a little past curfew. I got home by 1:21 a.m. and my mom wasn’t exactly happy that I was gone so long.
The next day, the story of last night got around. It wasn’t my story that was told, but it was the story of another teenager who was at that same party. He drove home. The boy hit a deer and rammed into a light pole. The teenager lived through that incident with a few fractured ribs and a deep cut on his arm. Though, I would guess he’s happy that he’s alive at all. Marcus could have been in that car. I could have not picked up Marcus. My risk was worth the reward. Marcus could have died, had I not gotten out of bed.