Gas and Brake

In life, there's always a gas pedal and a brake..

In life, you're usually either the gas or the brake. The gas being outgoing, daring, wild. The brake being quiet, ordinary, shy. My best friend Ryan would be the gas in my life, as I, unfortunately, am the brake. It works out pretty well though. He pushes me when I need it, and I tone him down when he gets too wild. Well, normally. I slipped up. I let him go when I should have stopped him. Now I'm sitting in a hospital waiting room, in a blood soaked prom dress. Let me explain...

 

I've known Ryan since I was five. On the first day of school, the teacher gave us assigned seats. (My last name is Warington and his is Washington) Anyway, at lunch, Ryan pulled out his pokéball shaped lunchbox, and I pulled out my plain brown paper bag. He had pizza, pudding, and a juice box. I had a tuna sandwich, some crackers, and a water bottle. Immediately he swiped my sandwich and gave me his pizza. "Hope you don't mind" he said with mouthful of tuna.

 

Since that day, we've been inseparable. We went to a small grade and middle school, so we were always in the same class. Then came high school. Right now we're in our junior year. It's been.../okay/ so far. In past years, We hadn't been in a lot of the same classes. I've dated, he's dated (way more than I have), and we'd kind of grown apart. But this year was different. We had most of our classes together, and because we were always hanging out, neither of us had time to date. We were going to prom together, and didn't care that we would be the only couple not sucking face on the dance floor. 

 

Starting a few weeks before prom, Ryan started getting distant again. It wasn't a girl, school wasn't particularly hard, there was nothing I could justify for his distance. I finally came out and asked him. He avoided the truth, just telling me that he wasn't being distant. For the next few days, every time I turned around, he was there. Trying /way/ too hard to prove me wrong. After a long heated conversation, he finally admitted to me that he was joining the same gang his brother was in.

 

Damn his brother. Isaiah had been trying to get Ryan into it for as long as I can remember. I was so angry one time that I had almost slapped Isaiah. Thank god Ryan grabbed my arm. This time Isaiah wasn't going to be so lucky, though. Neither was Ryan The second after Ryan told me, I slapped him across the cheek, and walked out of lunch period to find Isaiah and give him a piece of my mind too. As I walked out, I noticed that people were staring at me. They had never seen this side of me. I was known as the brake. The plain Jane of Troy High school. But this was one thing I couldn't be quiet about.

 

I stormed right out of that school, got in my mom's car, (she had leant it to me for the week), and I would have gone to kill Isaiah if it weren't for Ryan following me. He jumped in the passenger seat and snatched the keys, keeping them in his pocket so I couldn't leave. He has a foot on me, and thirty pounds of muscle to accent his height, so I could never get them back by force  We had a huge argument, which ended in us switching seats, and Ryan driving me home to his house.

 

We spent the rest of the afternoon there, him trying to apologize as I freaked out. I finally made him agree to talk to Isaiah to see if he could get out somehow. I left around nine, knowing that my parents would be waiting for me angrily about cutting class, but I honestly didn't care. I went upstairs, locked my door, and slept until early the next morning. At breakfast I got an earful. Of course, they were blaming my school antics on Ryan. They disapproved of my friendship with 'that kind of person'. A.k.a., I was white, he was black, and my stuck in the sixties, southern, old-fashioned parents didn't like that. It didn't help that he lived in a poorer area of town. I tried to ignore them, and soon after left. I ignored Ryan the whole day, and left school at four after my hour long detention for cutting class.

 

Damn that boy. He was waiting by my car, knowing that I couldn't avoid talking to him. We had a short conversation, and I cut it off after learning that he hadn't talked to Isaiah. As I drove away, I looked in my rearview mirror, and saw his saddened face. I tried ignoring it, and kept on home.  The next day was wednesday. Prom was Saturday, and the whole school was buzzing. Ryan called out to me in the hall between second and third period. I ignored him, and he grabbed me and pushed me up against the wall. It was the only way he knew he could get me to listen. (it was also one of the reasons people always thought we were together.) he told me about how he talked to Isaiah. Because he was only half way through initiation, he could bow out. I almost cried I was so happy. I hugged him so tight he couldn't even breathe. He loved when i did that. He said it was like some kind of power in that hug, it always made him happy.

 

I drove him home that day, and we hung out at his place, talking about life in general, plans for the summer, prom, et cetera. We were happy we were going together. It took the pressure off to look sexy, though neither of us would mind looking it, we joked. I showed him my green, one shouldered dress that complimented my green eyes and auburn hair. He showed me a picture of the tux he rented. We were all set with out plans, so we went our separate ways. The next two days were pretty uneventful. Normal school, still happy with him, prom hustle and bustle.

 

Saturday morning I got up, grabbed all my necessities for prom, and drove to his house. He was having a before prom party, so I was just going to have a day there. We set his house up for the party most of the day, and as it came time for it to begin, we got dressed. When I finished putting on my dress and make up, coming out of his parents bathroom, he was breathless. He told me I looked gorgeous. I blushed heavily, just because he looked so enthralled. I was going to say something, but his doorbell rang. We looked at each other, then went downstairs to start letting people in.

 

About half an hour into the party, Ryan had disappeared. I thought he might have gone to get some drinks, so I went out to the garage. I opened the door, and saw him talking with isaiah. They looked serious, so I quietly stepped inside,  shut the door, and listened in. My heart stopped as I listened, hearing of the gang's next meeting. I hadn't gotten him out. I hadn't done anything. I was furious with both myself and him. I went back inside and slammed the garage door shut. Ryan saw me out of the corner of his eye as I left, and turned to see the door slam. He ran right after me as I walked out of his house, to my car. It was blocked in, so I started walking down the road. He followed me and stopped me.

 

I screamed at him for what seemed like hours, him yelling right back. Tears streamed Down my face. I finally told him that I didn't give a f**k what happened to him, that he was a dirty liar, and that I hate him. To that, he was silent. He watched me leave as I quickly walk down the road, my arms folded across my chest and tears still cascading around my face. I got pretty far up the road, and turned a bit. He was still there, watching me. I stopped and was about to go back, when my heart stopped for a second time that night. A car drove past Ryan's driveway, and I heard a shot, a single shot.

 

Ryan crumpled on the ground, and the car screeched away. I froze for a second, then tore of my heels and ran full speed back to him. He had a bullet wound in his chest. He was still breathing, but just barely. I held him, not caring that my dress was getting soaked through with blood. All I cared about was Ryan. Ryan, who was now dying in my arms. Ryan, who was only outside because of me. I kept repeating that I loved him, and that he was going to be okay, he /had/ to be okay. I swear, I saw a faint smile on his face when I told him this. I hoped he somehow heard me And realize that I didn't mean the things i said.

 

Everything is a blur between then and now. I remember the ambulance coming, but I don't remember who called it. I remember forcing them to let me go with Ryan in the ambulance. I remember Isaiah saying that it was he who the shooters had been looking for, not Ryan. I remember answering questions for the police. And now I'm here, sitting in a hospital waiting room, my dress soaked through with blood. I'm drinking lukewarm coffee and trying not to go into the operating room that he's in right now and cut the bullet out myself. I'm also trying not to leave, buy a gun and kill all those m***********s who put a bullet in my best friend.

 

Finally, a doctor comes to me. I stand, hoping to god that Ryan will be alright. The doctor tells me that Ryan didn't make it. The internal bleeding was too bad, and he bleed out on the operating table. I can't believe it. I fall back down into the chair, hoping, praying, that this was some sort of cruel, sick, joke. The doctor tells me that she's very sorry, and I suddenly snap. I scream at her that she can't possibly be sorry, if she cared about him, he would still be alive. I scream and scream until one of the nurses restrains me and gives me a sedative.

 

After I am calm, the doctor asks me if I would like to say goodbye. I slowly nod, and I follow her to a small room, where a gurney and a body bag lay. I can see his hang sticking out of the bag. The doctor pulls back the top, and there he is. If I had any tears left, they would have been pouring out. I tell him that I love him and I kiss his lips lovingly, hugging him tightly just like I used to. Just how he loved me to. When I can't stand it anymore, I grab his hand and take off the ring I made him in metal working sophomore year.

 

 I turn, and leave, not wishing to see him like this anymore. I went home right after that, contemplating taking my fathers gun and demanding isaiah tell me who killed Ryan. I knew all that would bring me was trouble, but it didn't stop me from going up to their room,and pulling the gun out. I held it up and imagined blowing those losers' brains out with it. I put it back eventually, before my father got home from work.

 

Later that week, I was watching television to try and take my mind off of Ryan. My parents didn't intervene on my breaking of the rules anymore. They felt horrible about what they had said, now that he was gone. I changed the channel to the news station, hoping there would be some good news. Instead, what I saw shocked me. Isaiah was getting led away in handcuffs. I listened to the news reporter, who told how Isaiah shot five gang members in the chest the day after Ryan died. The same ones who went after Ryan, his baby brother.

 

He was allowed out on bail between the arrest and the hearing, so he could go to Ryan's funeral. He stood by me,late though we didn't talk, he hugged me, knowing how close I was to Ryan.---I later went to where he was being held, to talk to him. For the first time in my life, I was grateful for his presence, and angered by it still. I thanked him for killing the dirty b******s who had taken Ryan. We didn't say much else, except exchange comments on how sorry we were for each other, how Ryan was meaningful to both of us. I left soon after.

 

Isaiah was convicted of killing them, and because he had priors, he was given life without parole. I visit him, once a month usually, just to talk. I'll never forget Ryan. Not a day goes by that I don't think about him. He was the reason for my happiness, my gas pedal. Now I'm broken. A car with only a brake can't go forwards, can't go backwards. I need a shove. 

Author's Note

I wrote this up on my phone, so if there are grammar issues, spelling, formatting, et cetera, then I will fix them when I get on a real computer.

Someone challenged me to write a story with no written dialogue, so here it is. I got the basic gas/brake idea from a hertz commercial that I totally thought was a movie preview.