I'll always remember six o'clock in the morning every morning. I pulled on my same old Wrangler jeans with holes and grass stains all over them. My white tee-shirt had dirt stains and a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeves. I got my books together and dragged feet with my torn up sneakers down the stairs. I could smell my mom making toast and eggs, but I knew it wasn't for me. It was for my football star brother. He was my parents favorite kid. Then was my baby sister, then me. I was the least favorite.
"G'mornin', mom." I tried reaching for a piece of toast.
"C'mon, now," She puched my hand away, "You know that's for Robby."
"Yes, ma'am." I took a juice box out of the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table. I waited for my brother to come downstairs so he could eat and drive me to school. I finished my juice box just as I saw his brand new Reeboks coming down the stairs, followed my perfectly neat jeans and a clean striped polo. He put his books down and sat down in front of the plate my mom had made up for him. My dad came downstairs with my sister in tow.
"Robby! I'm coming to your game with mommy today!"
"Oh, great, Claire! My good luck charm!" She smiled and lifter her five year old little body on to his lap while he ate. I watched my dad kiss my mom on the cheek and take a mug of coffee. I had the perfect American family. A star quarterback brother, a little blonde sister, and two parents that were still in love after all these years. So where did I fit into the equation. Well, I never really did. I always wished I didn't have an older brother. I wanted the attention he always had. I felt like my parents didn't love me.
"Ready, Chris?" My brother stood up and rested his hand on my shoulder. I nodded and stood up. I watched my mom and dad kiss Robby and tell him they would see him at his game later and that they loved him. They ignored me. We went out to his pick-up truck and pulled out down the long dirt driveway onto an ever dirtier road to school.
It was still dark at six thirty that morning and the fog from the rain the night before hadn't risen yet. I could tell Robby was a little nervous driving in such conditions. A little mist started coming down and Robby slowed down to the point where I could walk faster than the truck. We came to a four-way intersection and Robby stopped looked around a few time and continued forward. By the time I yelled it was too late. A driver had come from the road on the left and slammed into the drivers side of the truck. We spun across the intersection and rolled a few times. From upside down I slowly undid my seatbelt because my arm was in such pain. I tried to move but the truck was crushed. I wanted to see if Robby was okay. I heard sirens coming our way so I stayed put until someone could help me out.
Doors slammed and a deep voice called out, "Anyone in there? Hello?" I tried to speak but I just started crying instead. "Okay, we're coming in!" A crow bar dug into my door and pried it open. All I could see was a blurry man in a fire fighters uniform. He pulled me out of the truck as gently as he could and tried to help me stand. I fell against the car and sat on the road, still sobbing.
I heard my father scream, "Robby! Where's my boy?" And them my mother shrieked and started crying too. I thought maybe she saw me.
"You have parents, boy?" The fire fighter asked.
"That's them! I hear my mom!" I tried to get up but the fire fighter told me to stay seated and that he would go get her. He brought he back over and she took me in her arms, but I screamed. She pulled away and I told her my arm hurt. The fire fighter leaned down and touched my arm and told me he thought it was broken. I heard an ambulance leave with its siren on and I knew it was Robby. The fire fighter motioned for a paramedic to come help me into another ambulance.
My mom climbed into the back with me, "Where's dad?" I asked.
"He's with Robby." She said into between sniffles. The sun was almost all the way up and it was raining harder now. I asked my mom about going to school and she didn't answer. I could tell she was more worried about Robby. Something about me didn't care to know. We swiftly rode past other cars on the road and arrived at the emergency room within minutes. A nurse escorted me into a small room with all the typical hospital things, a bed, some machines, and a robe that would show my butt. She sat me down on the bed and told me to wait for the doctor. My mom seemed distant and distracted; she barely even looked at me. A few minutes the doctor came in and poked around at my arm a little. It hurt a lot. He asked me where it hurt and I told him all over. He touched it some more and told me it was broken in three places.
He looked at my mom and she was looking out the door, "Ma'am?"
"Yes?" She continued looking out the door.
"You sons arm is broken. We're going to have to keep him for a little bit."
"That's good." She stood up and walked out into the waiting room. The doctor looked at me expecting me to be upset but this was just typical of her. Ignoring me and focusing on Robby. I loved my brother, of course, I just wish my parents loved me as much as they loved him. The doctor left for a minute and brought in a nurse who took me to another all white room where she had my lay down. Even more doctors came in. A few watched while one started wrapping up my arm in cloth and gooey stuff. He covered my entire arm in it, all the way up to my shoulder, with my elbow bent. I told him that this was silly and it would get better soon without all this and the doctors and nurses laughed at me and called me cute. I was not trying to be cute. A thirteen year old boy does not want to be cute.
When he rolled my sleeve back down I noticed my cigarettes were gone, "Who took 'em?"
"Took what?" One of the doctors asked.
"My pack."
"Young boys should not be smoking."
"I ain't smokin'. I'm in here with you, ain't I?"
"Nobody took them from you, son. They must have fallen out in the accident." That was the first time someone had called me son since before I was a little boy. A nurse escorted me back into the waiting room where I saw my dad holding my mom who was crying still. I sat down next to them with my arm all bandaged up and a blue thing around my neck holding my arm in place. Nobody said anything. I saw the opportunity as more time to sleep so I rested my head on the back of the chair and dozed off.
I awoke from a deep sleep when I heard a women scream then burst into loud, heavy tears. It was my mom. Maybe she saw what happened to my arm. I lifted my head and saw her collapsed crying in my dad's arms. A doctor slowly walked away from them and I knew it wasn't about me. Maybe Robby broke both of his arms, I thought. My dad walked my mom outside and I stayed sitting. I didn't want to interrupt. When they didn't come back after about twenty minutes I thought something was wrong. I went up to the front desk and asked the lady if she knew where they went. She said the doctor told them to go home for now. She told me to sit and wait while she called them to come back and get me. I told her it was fine, I would stand there. They forgot me.