In June, Felice Luu, an eighth grader from San Lorenzo, Calif., won
one of the three top individual awards in Weekly Reader’s 2009 Student
Publishing Contest. (Click here find out more about Weekly Reader’s 2010 Student Publishing Contest.) Luu
won $500 and a trip with her parents to the awards ceremony in
Washington, D.C. Here is her award-winning essay—a gripping story about
a 2008 car accident that she and her parents were lucky to survive.
One
fast moment; that’s all it takes for everything to go right or wrong.
The opening of a door, the flicking of a wrist, the pressing of a
button; any of these things can change someone’s life. I had to learn
this the hard way.
My dark brown eyes opened and noticed that everything was upside down.
Blinking a few times, they realized that it wasn’t a dream and started
to look around. Soon hands began to come alive and moved to a seatbelt,
unbuckling it to let a body fall to the ground. Quickly, those hands
found a 24 Hour Fitness bag, a small thing really, and continued on to
find the handle of the car door. Then, once the body emerged, a voice
started to scream. “Mom, dad? Mom, dad!” The voice belonged to me, as
did the body, and the hands that got the bag while opening the door.
I had just crawled out of the turned-over black Acura and was screaming
for my parents. Barely noticing anything or anyone around me, I kept
screaming for them. Finally, someone pulled me away from the car and
sat me down by the rest area.
“Sweetie, sweetie, calm down, take deep breaths and lie down, ok?”
someone said. I thought it was a woman. I wasn’t sure, but the voice
sounded soft, like a mother’s voice. Too focused on the car and my
parents, I never bothered to look at her.
Then I screamed at her with my usual temper, ”I can’t calm down! My
parents could be dead! How can you tell me to calm down?” Now cue the
“everything is going to be all right” moment.
Then, as I predicted, she said, “Don’t worry, everything is going to be all right. You’re just in shock.” Why
don’t people understand that sometimes things just won’t be all right
no matter how much we wish that they could be? Why do they always tell
you that everything will be all right even when they themselves know
that it won’t be?
Soon, I calmed down a bit and stopped trying to get up. I knew that if
I got up someone would just hold me back. Their hands were strong
though gentle at the same time. I assumed they belonged to a man,
probably her son or husband. It could’ve also been someone else at the
rest area. Whoever he was, he kept pulling me back whenever I tried to
go to my parents and telling me that I needed to stay still in case I
had a concussion. Obviously, going to my parents was out of the
question. “You need to sit still or at least stay still. You may have a
concussion, but we don’t know yet, so just stay still. We’ll take care
of your parents.” Didn’t he know that these people are my parents and
they were all that I had? I needed to know that they were all right.
I still tried once more, but I only got repeated results. Besides, the car was really far away from me, almost five meters from the road while I, on the other hand, was all the way back at the rest area. At that point I just sat there, near the divider for the exit into the rest area and the rest area, crying my eyes out and begging God that my parents would be all right.
Now calm and sitting, I took a look at the car. Even though it was pretty dark, I saw my dad and an outline of the black car. First I saw that my dad was hanging out of the side window with his upper half on the ground and lower half in the car. The only reason I saw him was because he had a really clean white shirt. I couldn’t really see my mom so I assumed she was still stuck in the car. Later, I found out that she was and the window was also broken.
After my last failed attempt, I needed someone to talk to, so I thought of some names. I didn’t need to think much because, automatically, one name popped into my head: Jonathan Clayton. I didn’t even know why but his was the number I dialed as soon as I got my phone out of my bag. It just seemed like he was always easy to talk to, and right then, I needed someone easy to talk to.
I stood up and begged that he would pick up his phone. Finally, after what seemed like forever, his voice came up and said, “Hello?” He exclaimed, “Oh my God!” after I told him everything that had happened. Then he asked, ”Are you okay, Felice?” Gladly accepting his concern I silently thanked him.
Then I replied quietly, “Yea, but my parents aren’t.” After I said that, I realized that I wasn’t crying any more. Of all times that I could cry, I chose then not to. Honestly, I was terrified out of my mind, and that was more than rare. I kept thinking, “What if they die?” or, “What if they end up in a coma for the rest of their lives?” Being only a 12-year-old at that time, I would have been forced by law to live with a guardian, like other family members.
Almost hysterically, I said, “Can you believe this? My parents could be dead and I still can’t cry properly.” The worst part was that I didn’t even know why. Anyone else in my place would have been crying and showing their fears. Anyone else who was looking at their mom still stuck inside of an upside down car and their dad stuck in an upside down car at the same time would have been crying, probably harder than they ever had in their entire life.
“No, you’re being very strong. Don’t worry, your parents are going to be all right,” said the motherly voice again. How could she still say that? How does she know? She was just a bystander, watching all of this happen. Apparently she was also the one who was to stay with me until medical attention had been given to my parents. So there we were, a woman slightly bending over to be somewhat face-to-face with a kid on the phone trying her best to calm down by the divider.
Soon, it was time to say good bye to Jonathan, so I did. Just before he hung up he told me he hoped everything would be all right. I told him thanks and goodbye. It made me feel better knowing that our fate was still undecided, increasing the chances of my parents surviving.
A little while later, some highway patrol officers came with an ambulance and helicopter. Since my dad was bleeding profusely, he took the helicopter to one hospital while I ended up riding to another one with my mom, nearly crying several times on the way.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. My mom wasn’t supposed to be like this. My mom wasn’t supposed to end up in a hospital with a fractured pelvis. My dad wasn’t supposed to end up in a hospital with multiple bruises, staples, stitches and, soon, a scar. I wasn’t supposed to walk out of the crash untouched. We were supposed to be home by 11:00 P.M. I wasn’t supposed to cry every five minutes in the bathroom.
I just couldn’t believe it. My mom has driven perfectly every time before this, even in the rain, and nothing has ever gone wrong. This time there wasn’t any rain, there wasn’t anything wrong with the road, there wasn’t any traffic, there wasn’t any joking about how terrible her driving was, and there was no simple, “Oh well, we’ll go get it repainted tomorrow.” This time there was only cold and dry air, a near perfectly paved road, cars driving by with their lives undisturbed, screaming mixed with streaming of tears, and, soon, a trip to the junkyard.
It was Friday, June 19, 2008, when we swerved into a divider. Trying to bypass a big rig, my mom drove into a sign, but then turned only to find that she nearly rammed into a tree. The last thing I heard was the screeching of tires before seeing nothing but a white airbag in my line of vision. The date of this entry is Monday, June 23, 2008. Today is Tuesday, March 2, 2009, and I am a girl who is afraid to get in a car with my mom driving.
One fast moment; that’s all it took for everything to go wrong. The bypassing of a big rig, the bad timing, the abrupt turn of a steering wheel; all of these things all changed my life. I learned that the hard way.

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