Good Boys Wear Glasses
Jaikayo-Javon Brown
Accidents don’t usually happen to me because I’m the careful sibling. I should have known better, and we knew we weren’t allowed to get hurt especially with the season in full swing. I know that when my mom sees me, I’m going to get it. My brother is crying next to the nice runner lady that stopped to help me, he had his razor scooter in hand, flawless, unlike mine lying next to me.
“Hey kid do you need me to call an ambulance?”
It was hard to make out the words the runner was saying because of this sharp ringing coming from my left ear. Blood is oozing from my nose onto my clothes and on the floor. What if the coach kicks me off the team? Will my mom ground me?
“My baby!” My mom shouts with a furious tone.
“Your son needs an ambulance.” The runner insists
“He’s fine. Get up, Jaikayo, and go wash yourself off.”
With the ringing, I can’t understand what my mom is saying, and, at this moment, I still haven’t got up off the ground, but miraculously, I made it down the hill. A pain in my right forearm has started taking over, but, at the same time, my head feels like it is being hit by hundreds of rocks all at once. Finally, I get up and push my scooter to the bathroom. My mom is filled with anger and is yelling and pulling and turning my forearm. I’m screaming because the pain is excruciating, almost unbearable with the movements she is forcing me to do.
“Mom Stop I can’t move my arm like that!”
“Stop being a baby, Jaikayo.”
“Wait, Jaikayo what’s wrong with your arm, why is it like that?”
“Like what?”
I look at my now distorted arm, that now has a huge bump of skin sticking out the lower backside of my forearm. As I look up into the murky mirror, I see an almost unrecognizable boy with blood around his eyes and what appears to be a bulge sticking out of both sides of his fore head. It looked as if this boy was growing horns, like a creature out of a fairy tale. Blood is still oozing, and my vision is blurred because, at that time, I hated wearing my glasses, but if I had worn them, they would have broken, and my mom would have been even more upset with me. A lucky day to rebel against my vision.
I was becoming dizzy from the pain maybe, or maybe it was from blood loss. Woozily, I was placed in a car, somehow, we ended up in the parking lot of a run-down hospital. The dark atmosphere of the hospital scared me. This was my first visit to the ER, and I feared doctors. The stories of doctors giving shots, making kids turn and cough, and putting things where they do not belong didn’t excite me. The lights were blinding as we entered through the double doors of the hospital. A picture of a boy and his anxious mother was portrayed in the mirror across from the entrance. This time was different, this time the boy was me all cleaned up; of course, the marks and bumps were still there, but had gotten less severe. Getting to the counter, the paperwork seemed endless, and all I wanted was a cold bowl of cereal, even if I had to eat it left handed.
We sat and waited, but, of course, being a rambunctious kid, I went to the vending machine and released all my pain onto it until a bag of Bugles fell to the bottom. My left hand throbbed, almost as bad as my arm. Surprisingly, it calmed me. As my name was shouted, my stomach fell to the floor, questions swirled through my mind, but my mom seemed determined to get me in and out as quickly as possible. We were then escorted to the x-ray room where, to my surprise they told me I had a fracture in my arm and may have a concussion. My mom, finally, admitted that it was a little worse than a sprain. With a verdict for my pain we headed out and instead of sympathy my mom made this into a teachable moment. As we get into the car she says,
“We should have let you bleed, maybe you would have been seen faster.”
“Hey kid do you need me to call an ambulance?”
It was hard to make out the words the runner was saying because of this sharp ringing coming from my left ear. Blood is oozing from my nose onto my clothes and on the floor. What if the coach kicks me off the team? Will my mom ground me?
“My baby!” My mom shouts with a furious tone.
“Your son needs an ambulance.” The runner insists
“He’s fine. Get up, Jaikayo, and go wash yourself off.”
With the ringing, I can’t understand what my mom is saying, and, at this moment, I still haven’t got up off the ground, but miraculously, I made it down the hill. A pain in my right forearm has started taking over, but, at the same time, my head feels like it is being hit by hundreds of rocks all at once. Finally, I get up and push my scooter to the bathroom. My mom is filled with anger and is yelling and pulling and turning my forearm. I’m screaming because the pain is excruciating, almost unbearable with the movements she is forcing me to do.
“Mom Stop I can’t move my arm like that!”
“Stop being a baby, Jaikayo.”
“Wait, Jaikayo what’s wrong with your arm, why is it like that?”
“Like what?”
I look at my now distorted arm, that now has a huge bump of skin sticking out the lower backside of my forearm. As I look up into the murky mirror, I see an almost unrecognizable boy with blood around his eyes and what appears to be a bulge sticking out of both sides of his fore head. It looked as if this boy was growing horns, like a creature out of a fairy tale. Blood is still oozing, and my vision is blurred because, at that time, I hated wearing my glasses, but if I had worn them, they would have broken, and my mom would have been even more upset with me. A lucky day to rebel against my vision.
I was becoming dizzy from the pain maybe, or maybe it was from blood loss. Woozily, I was placed in a car, somehow, we ended up in the parking lot of a run-down hospital. The dark atmosphere of the hospital scared me. This was my first visit to the ER, and I feared doctors. The stories of doctors giving shots, making kids turn and cough, and putting things where they do not belong didn’t excite me. The lights were blinding as we entered through the double doors of the hospital. A picture of a boy and his anxious mother was portrayed in the mirror across from the entrance. This time was different, this time the boy was me all cleaned up; of course, the marks and bumps were still there, but had gotten less severe. Getting to the counter, the paperwork seemed endless, and all I wanted was a cold bowl of cereal, even if I had to eat it left handed.
We sat and waited, but, of course, being a rambunctious kid, I went to the vending machine and released all my pain onto it until a bag of Bugles fell to the bottom. My left hand throbbed, almost as bad as my arm. Surprisingly, it calmed me. As my name was shouted, my stomach fell to the floor, questions swirled through my mind, but my mom seemed determined to get me in and out as quickly as possible. We were then escorted to the x-ray room where, to my surprise they told me I had a fracture in my arm and may have a concussion. My mom, finally, admitted that it was a little worse than a sprain. With a verdict for my pain we headed out and instead of sympathy my mom made this into a teachable moment. As we get into the car she says,
“We should have let you bleed, maybe you would have been seen faster.”
Jaikayo-Javon H. Brown enjoys long walks on the beach and mac & cheese. He loves warm cuddles and ice cream.
He lives with a single mom and one brother, and, currently, is class representative. Not only is he accomplishing in the classroom, but is also an outstanding athlete. Jaikayo's favorite sport is track and basketball. When he gets older he wants to either become an orthodontist or maxillofacial surgeon.
He lives with a single mom and one brother, and, currently, is class representative. Not only is he accomplishing in the classroom, but is also an outstanding athlete. Jaikayo's favorite sport is track and basketball. When he gets older he wants to either become an orthodontist or maxillofacial surgeon.