Page 2 of Traces of Her

One

ROWENA

Ten Years Old

“FIRST ONE BACK TO MY HOUSE WINS!” Maggie yells to me as she races past me on her bike. I push harder on my pedals, willing my bike to move faster. Maggie laughs as she continues to move farther ahead of me. “Come on, slowpoke!”

“That’s not fair,” I call out to her. “Your legs are longer than mine!” I start to sweat while I struggle to keep up with her. My long hair tangles in front of my face as I pick up speed.

We race through our neighborhood down the quiet streets. We’ve lived in the same neighborhood and have been best friends for as long as I can remember. She’s my partner in crime, even though we aren’t into the same things. She loves sports and I love art. She’s the loud one and I’m the quiet one. But those differences don’t keep us apart.

By the time we pass my house, I’m out of breath and we still have another street to go until we reach hers. We keep moving, coming closer to the intersection by her house.

“I’m gonna beat you!” she yells, looking back at me with a huge grin on her face.

I see movement down the street. “Maggie! Watch out!” I yell at her. I see the car before she does as it blows through the stop sign. The tires screech as the driver slams on the brakes. But it’s too late. Maggie screams as the car plows into her. The metal frame of her bike clacks against the front bumper. The force throws her into the air, rolling her up over the hood and into the windshield. The glass shatters as the car comes to a stop and Maggie rolls onto the street with a thud. She lies there, not moving.

I reach the intersection and throw my bike on the ground before even stopping. My feet hit the pavement as I run over to her. The driver of the car, a younger guy, jumps out. I drop to my knees when I reach Maggie. A pool of blood starts to form around her head. Her face, arms, and legs are covered in cuts from the broken glass. “Maggie!” I scream, grabbing her shoulder and shaking her. “Wake up!” I glance over to the guy for help. His hands are in his hair and he’s pacing around in circles.

“Oh no,” he chants. “Oh, God. No.” He keeps saying the same thing over and over again. Why isn’t he helping?

“Maggie,” I say, shaking her again. “Please wake up.” She doesn’t move or make a sound. “Mister, please help,” I plead to him as tears start to fall from my eyes.

He looks at me with his eyes wide. “I-I,” he stutters, pulling out his phone, dialing a number. “There’s been an accident.”

I hear a door slam shut, startling me and taking my attention away from the guy. I look over at Maggie’s house on the corner and see her parents racing through the yard. “Rowena! Maggie!” they yell, running toward us. “Oh my God!” Her mom screams when they reach us. She drops down to the ground, lifting up Maggie’s head, cradling it in her arms like a baby. She begins rocking back and forth as she starts sobbing. “It’s okay, baby. You’ll be okay,” she cries over and over again. Maggie’s dad kneels down beside her, stroking her blood-soaked hair.

I take a few steps backward, wrapping my arms around myself. I start to shake as the tears fall faster. The sound of sirens grows closer as an ambulance, fire truck, and police car show up. The ambulance slams on its brakes and the two paramedics scramble out of the vehicle. One opens the back doors, grabbing a medical bag, while the other rushes over toward Maggie. “Ma’am,” he says softly, “I need you to lay her head back down, so I can check her.” Maggie’s mom doesn’t let go.

“Janet.” Her dad grabs her shoulder. “Lay her down.” She nods, and lets out a sob, laying her back down on the road. The paramedic feels her throat, I think to check if she has a pulse. I watch as he flashes a flashlight in her eyes. He looks back up at the other paramedic and slowly closes his eyes, giving him a discreet shake of his head. I watch the other paramedic nod once and walk away, pulling out his phone and taking the bag with him.

Why is he taking the bag? Don’t they need that to save her?

I look around, finally noticing the firemen standing around and two police officers. One of them has the guy who hit Maggie and is turning him around against the car. The female officer walks toward me.

“What’s your name?” she asks sweetly.

I wipe the tears from my cheeks, putting on my brave face. “Rowena Petrov.”

“Hi, Rowena. I’m Officer Deitrick,” she explains. “I know this all must be scary for you. Are you hurt or anything?”

I shake my head.

“Good. Did anyone call your parents?”

I shake my head again. I want my parents.

“Can you give me their number to call them?”

In a shaky voice, I tell her their number.

“Thank you, sweetie.” She smiles and dials their number.

“Mrs. Petrov? Hi, my name is Officer Deitrick. I’m calling on behalf of your daughter, Rowena. No, she is fine, she’s okay. There’s been an accident, if you could get here soon. No, she wasn’t injured. Yes, that’s where it is. Thank you, we will see you soon.”

She hangs up the phone and looks back at me. “Your parents will be here very soon,” she says, and I nod. “I wanted to ask you something, but if you don’t want to tell me right now, that’s okay.”

“Okay,” I say. I’m not sure what she wants me to tell her.

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