GENRE: YA Speculative
The first things I notice when I come to are the rough pavement against my right cheek and the taste of copper coating my tongue like a layer of fresh paint. My head’s pounding and I want nothing more than to hurl—preferably on the idiot driver of the minivan that just hit me. Then again, the pavement right before my face is looking pretty good too.
My head hurts worse than when Remy starts playing that dumb rap station so loud it makes the entire second floor of the house vibrate. Angela thought it was an earthquake the first time he cranked it up while she was over. That was entertaining.
I laugh at the sheer patheticness of it all—I get hit by a car, and the first thing I do is think of my brother—and my stomach turns over, squirming against my breakfast. It’s as I go to sit up, rubbing at my temples and feeling the warm, slick moisture slide over my fingertips, dripping red across my vision, that I finally do feel my stomach lurch enough to force the vomit up and out of my throat, and then I am heaving across the pavement, only vaguely aware of the ambulance siren in the distance.
It’s as I’m throwing up that the woman behind the wheel of the minivan finally realizes she hasn’t killed me and comes rushing out to make sure I’m not going to die anytime in the near future, either.