The Guy Who...

"What? You know him! I know you're new but you have to know him!" she gave a pointed look at a guy who threw his head back and laughed. He didn't notice us though.
The laugh looked forced, but it fooled everybody.
"He's the guy who took our football team to the states finals." at my blank stare, she exhaled through her nose sharply. "The guy who helped Mrs. Rudy go to the hospital."
Sounded familiar, but I shrugged.
"He's the guy who lost his little brother in a motorcycle accident." As my eyes widened in recognition, she laughed a hard laugh. "It's funny; nobody remembers him like the hero he was. They just remember him as the guy who lost his little brother."
(Author's Note: Based on true events.)

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4. Evan Wright

         In my house, silence is dangerous.

​          I think that as I awaken to a sunny morning. My door is cracked open-I always leave it like that-and I sit up. My brother was the one who woke me up with his loud jazz music. Usually it has the opposite effect-I ended up so  relaxed that I'd go back to sleep.

​         But after he passed away two years ago in a motorcycle accident...everything changed.

​         I remember hating the silence. I'd grab my iPod and listen to rock in the highest volume setting. I stopped doing that when my mother woke up screaming, and almost killed herself.

​         Because of that, I leave my door open.

        Just in case.

 

​        I finally throw the covers off my bed, and prepare myself for school. I look at my clock; six-thirty in the morning, which means Mom should be at work. I have my own restroom, so I take my time showering.

​        I scrub the water out of my hair with my towel, and reach for my glasses. Getting dressed quickly, I hang my towel up, and walk downstairs.

​        The smell of cigarette smoke makes my stomach go in knots. I walk slowly, knowing what I'll find in the kitchen.

​        She stands with her back to me, her dark brown hair pulled in a tight knot. She's still wearing her navy blue two-piece suit, the knee length skirt wrinkled. A puff of smoke is blown out of the opened window where the sink is at.

      "Mom?" I ask, entering the kitchen doorway.

​        She turns to me, and her green eyes are full of tears. They run down her face, making her eyeliner and mascara run. She tells me nothing, just puts the cigarette out on the kitchen counter, and points at a piece of paper on the table.

​       I reach for it, and she brushes pat me, her sobs being unleashed as she runs to her room, slamming the door closed.

      The piece of paper is actually a cutout of a newspaper.

      It reads:

 

    ​   Justice earned?! WE THINK NOT!!!

​    ​On April 27, at exactly 7:30 a.m., Dakota  Matthews was charged and arrested at his home for the death of  sixteen year old Edward 'Eddie' Wright.

​     Wright was on his way home from a late shift at the Auto Repair shop on his 2003 Harley Davidson motorcycle. At a stop sign, Matthews was both intoxicated with drugs, and alcohol. However, Matthews wasn't the only one in the semi, as the passenger (name removed due to not wanting to be written) was aware what was going on.

     "He floored it, thinking that he could beat the kid from going. But instead, he hit the poor man, and went through the windshield. I told Dakota to stop, and he did. But all he did was get out, take a piss in the grass, and come back in. He said, 'He's dead.' and just drove off. I couldn't deal with the guilt, so as soon as I went home I called the police. Rest in peace, Eddie."

      Matthews at first was going to prison for ten to thirty six years, and his bail was set at $300,000 dollars. However, due to his 'generous and guilt-ridden heart' of turning himself in three days after the accident, his bail was lowered to $30,000 dollars.

      "It's just not right," 45-year-old principal Lewis, "Eddie was a delight in my school ,and everybody loved him. I don't believe justice has been made at all. Rest in peace, Eddie."

 

       The newspaper is crumpled in my fist. I slam my hand on the wooden table, and grab my bag.

       I need to cruise. 

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