“Another day of school” I sighed. Walking to school was a pain because the steaming hot Hawaii sun shone down on my me and my siblings, but today was different. I woke up late. That means we’ll be driving in the car. I get off of the bottom bunk and look up to the top bunk with the remains of my older brothers’ blanket and books.
“I wish that I could just stop time.” I thought, “then I wouldn’t have to hurry so much”. The last few days has felt like 10 years. It seems like school would never end. I rush downstairs with a new pair of clothes on. A shirt and shorts are all anyone needs to survive a winter or summer in Hawaii. I never knew what was coming up. Even though it happened, I kept on being me. I see the car with the engine on outside. “I better hurry.” I think to myself.
I cram as much food as possible in my yawning mouth. I put on my favorite pair of shoes on with perfectly spaced holes all over it to keep my feet cool. I don’t have time to put on socks. I rush out of the heavy closing-by-itself-garage-door with another mouth full of food and my backpack. I get distracted. I stop mid-way…
A few minutes later I’m crying. Tears covering my scared and surprised helpless face. It happens very suddenly, but it also slows down at the same time. The next few seconds felt like minutes. The big wooden garage door was getting closer. I move forward slowly. Like a tortoise. My hand was lagging behind while the rest of me was diching it. It is so close! Just one more step…
Only If I had moved a little quicker, my finger wouldn’t have a little bump on it. There’s just my pinkie left. My pinkie is 1 inch away from the door closing on my finger against the clean door rim. I look at my silly younger sisters, who are goofing their butts off, and hear someone say something. I can only hear a blur of words. They tried to help at least. “What’s going on?” I ask myself. “BAM!”
I can’t move. Suddenly I feel the pain rush into my finger. “why is pain even real?” I think, “how did this happen?”. “Why?” I whisper. “Stupid doors” I exclaim, “who even invented the door?”. I pull my pinkie out and feel the tears rush in. I burst into tears. What else would a first grader do? I look at the door first to make sure there is no blood on it while I’m feeling bad for myself.
I go to my mom with the wet tears on my face. I show her my bloody finger. She flinches. “Can you please go to Appa for this?” she quickly asks. I nod while she starts to remind me that she hates to see blood. I go to my dad and he is surprised. “What happened?” he asks as I show the bloody red pinkie. I’m done crying. “The door slammed it.” I whimper. Thinking about the door makes me flinch. He washes it and my finger stings like when you get stung by a bee. I let a few more tears spark out. He calms me down by saying things like “do you want me to drive you to school?” or “you did the right thing to come to me” or “ It’ll get better” as he puts some goopy cream on my pinkie and covers it with a light brown band-aid. I sigh with relief and tired eyes. Pinkie throbbing, eyes sleepy, I climb into the car.
After school I get home. I peel of my light brown band-aid and look at a little scab. “I’ll be okay” I think. I brush my teeth after dinner and go into my bed, soon falling into a deep sleep. I wake up. My eyes flicker open. I stare at the dark chocolate colored pattern on the wood panels holding up my older brothers’ mattress. I sigh. “Another day of school.”