Mary-Kathryn

On a hot, torrid summers day in North Carolina I sat with my brother, Daniel, in our 1992 Toyota Previa. It was renowned throughout the land for being the coolest, most beautiful, van in North Carolina, and whenever we drove it people on the streets whooped and hollered and took our picture. We were at Seven Oaks, our tennis club, waiting for my tennis lesson to start. We were about twenty minutes early, not unusual for us, so we sat in the car and relaxed. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, listening to the music as did Daniel and we both fell asleep. Do you ever get that feels like something terrible is about to happen? And chills run up and down your spine like little spiders? I did. I sat up and looked out the window. The sky had grown dark, the wind began to howl and shake the trees around us. //Pretty// foreboding. Daniel hadn’t seemed to have noticed the random change in weather from summer too horror movie. But suddenly Daniel began to scream like a banshee. It was one of horrifying sounds that makes your ear drums tremble, like nails on a chalkboard, a flat line in a hospital, or a gunshot. His banshee scream shook the car and in an instant all of the glass shattered to pieces. The cold wind blew through the broken windows as everything became slow motion. As it usually does when your in shock, which was convenient because I had no idea what to do. I looked over to a screaming Daniel, and recoiled from the frightening image. Daniel was shaking throughout with his hands gripping his neck so tight that his nails dug in, drawing blood. I snapped back into action. I flew out of the car, raced around it like the Flash and lifted Daniels body out of the car. Though he weighed twice as much as me my familial love and the adrenaline rush made him light as a feather. I hoisted him out and laid him on the ground. Daniel’s neck was growing in size and turned bright purple, his​ eyes grew as large as golf balls and his tongue hung out like a dogs. I whipped out my cell phone as fast as I could to call 911, but the 911 lady was incompetent and kept asking for my name. I got frustrated and threw my phone to the ground and it broke into a million pieces. It was clear I was going to have to take matters into my own hands. I considered taking the previa to the hospital but with all the shattered glass it was definitely a safety hazard and we didn’t want anymore injuries. So I bid a sad farewell to Seafoam Princess (the vans name) and tried to make a plan of action, Aha! I picked up Daniel, restraining him as he writhed in my arms and screamed and ran to the main road as fast as I could (which happens to be around 120 miles per hour). Standing by the road with my brother in hand, cars whizzed by and it became apparent to me I would have to get someone’s attention for them to stop. I took my chances and jumped out in front of an 18 wheeler, luckily the driver was well trained and halted to a stop just short of an inch from me. I ran around to his door, tore it off and told him I would need his truck. Upon seeing him I gasped he was giant, weighed a ton, and towered over me. The man laughed and told me I would have to fight for it, but I argued that due to the size difference a battle of the wits would be more suitable. He agreed, and we decided if he could solve my riddle he could keep his truck. My mind being as fast as bats chasing bacon on Labor Day I though of one mighty quick. “What two coins add up to 30 cent if one isn’t a nickel?” The trucker’s brow furrowed while he counted on his fingers. “A quarter and this button with ‘5 cent’ written on it?” he said nervously. “NO!” I laughed, “It was a trick question. A quarter and a nickel do. Since the quarter isn’t a nickel.” The trucker acknowledged my epic greatness and said I was free to go wit his truck. I put Daniel in the passengers seat and reattached the door with my super sticky spit and off we went! Although I had never driven an 18 wheeler before I was a quick learner. We made the nine mile journey to the hospital in no less than 30 seconds! We raced into the hospital parking lot at warp speed, tearing through the traffic as I slammed on the horn. But warp speed makes parking difficult. Panicked, I looked over at Daniel. He was growing pale in the face and his neck was getting purpler by the second, we had no time to waste. So instead of parking I floored it into the side of the hospital. We stopped in the emergency room and got out. I quickly realized my grand entrance had scared all the doctors away. Oh well. Once again my determination to save my brother did not fail me and I ran into a surgical room carrying Daniel as he wailed from the pain, his neck now three times its original size. I looked around the room frantically, I saw a doctor’s encyclopedia snatched it up and began to read. I skimmed it while still managing to be meticulous, not missing one detail. In about one minute I had read all 768 pages of it. Daniel was still in tremendous pain, but I had found the cure on page 438. It was a neck spasm thing. The encyclopedia said I needed to inject Daniel with a serum as soon as possible or he would turn into a berry (which explained the purple). I ran to the medical supplies closet, and searched frantically through thousands of serums for the one Daniel needed. Finally! I found it and raced back to Daniel. I found him on the ground, no longer screaming, his eyes half closed, breathing heavily. He beckoned me over with his hand and I went and kneeled next to him. His breathing was slowing by the second and he tried to speak but I couldn’t hear his faint words. I was afraid to stab Daniel in the neck with the shot but knew it was his only hope. Wincing, I stabbed the shot into his neck. His head rolled over and his breathing stopped, his eyes closing. Had I grabbed the wrong shot? Suddenly a beam of light shot through the hospital window illuminating his face as he grinned. His eyes opened and he beamed up at me, his neck fading in color and lessening in size. We shared a hug as he told me I was the best sister EVER. I knew. Then we hit the road and went to Moes to celebrate.