So, in health class, one of our assignments was to create something to submit to a contest for grade school students to stop distracted driving. It was pretty much open ended, so I was going to do a video or a poster with my friend, but my teacher, who has seen some of my writing, said she thought I would write something, so here it is. My story to stop distracted driving. It is very short.

Note: Y/N means Your Name, and Y/B/F/N means Your Best Friend's Name, for anyone who doesn't know.

Your cell phone rings at three a.m.. Silence. Bzzz bzzz bzz-
You sigh, groggily swing your arm around and grope for your phone. You succeed at knocking it off the nightstand.
Groaning, you fall out of bed and answer the phone. "Hello?"
"Hello? Oh, Y/N. I'm glad I reached you." It was your best friend's mom. "It's Y/B/F/N. They're in the hospital."
This jolted you out of drowsiness. "Wait, what!? What happened?!!"
"It was a car crash. They collided with another car on the main road. The other one flipped over. Both people were killed."
You could hardly breath, move, or even think. This hadn't happened to you. It wasn't your best friend. This was something that happened in movies, or on TV, or in those warning videos they showed you in school that nobody pays attention to. Not to you. Not real people.
You choked out your question. "How?"
"They weren't even drinking or anything. They were just... messing around with the other friend in the car. They thought they could look down at their phone for one second..."
"Are they going to wake up?" You asked in a hoarse whisper.
"Yes. But... extensive damage is likely."
You were silent.
"I'll let you know when they wake up."
"Thanks."

You were driving to the store, tired after staying up all night. You had sat there, hardly processing what had happened. You had gotten up that morning, faced the impossible task of telling your parents what had transpired last night. This was followed by frantic questioning, and promises to never do the same as your friend.
Combined with a crushing need to escape that house, to go anywhere, you felt the need to do something. Anything. No matter how trivial or small. Getting your friend a get well card, and maybe some flowers, though that seemed a little cheesy, seemed the best thing you could think of.
You pulled up to the store, parked your car, and dashed inside. In the short time between your house and the store, it had started to rain. The tears falling from the sky reflected your own mood inside. You spared not a thought for the victims in the other car.
As you flicked through the somewhat revoltingly cute "get well" cards, you heard a little boys voice drift towards you from the aisle next to you.
"Grandma, why can't I get it?"
"You know you don't have enough, Benny. You'll have to choose something less expensive." The older woman replied.
The typical "why can't I get it." Still, your curiosity won out, and you went over to see.
The boy was crying.
You sighed. You couldn't help it. You walked up to him.
"What's wrong?"
He sniffed. "M-my sisters birthday is tomorrow, and she really wanted this doll."
So it was for his sister.
"And you don't have enough?"
Sniff. "No."
Come on, why should you give away perfectly good money to a stranger. But what would you use five dollars for anyway? Your college scholarship? I could buy some ice cream. Dang it! Now I want ice cream. In the end, your conscious and kindness won. Besides, what's an ice cream cone over the pure delight of two little kids?
"Can I see?" you ask. He hands over the wallet. You look through, secretly adding your own money before handing it back to him.
"Why don't you count again?"
He did so, and you watched his eyes light up when he saw he had enough.
"Wow!" he exclaimed, "now I have enough to buy mom some pink roses, she always loved them."
For his sisters birthday?
"I want them to have something nice when they go to live in heaven."
He walked away happily, but you were paralyzed. No longer were the people in the other car nameless statistics. What if it had been a mother and a child, what if they had left behind someone like Benny, now an orphan? You realized you knew nothing about the people killed, not their names, their ages, their genders, nothing. What if one was a teen like me? You would never know, and you weren't entirely sure you wanted to. Benny's words had sliced you fiercely, and you didn't want to worsen the profusely bleeding wound.
One name, one face, more than enough.

You left the hospital in relief the next afternoon. Your friend was going to be fine. They would limp for life, use crutches for the next six months, and had a high likely hood of future spinal injury. Still, it was a small price to pay, compared to the others involved.
No matter how small, though, it would have dramatic consequences. Your friend had been the basketball team star, and received a basketball scholarship to their favorite college. Now, that was all out the window. All because of one tiny text, and a few seconds they thought they could spare.
As you are leaving, your friend's name catches your eye. You pick up the newspaper and scan the article.
"Morgan Montgomery, 33, and Melissa Montgomery, 8, died in a car crash this Saturday, April 20th, when a teen's car spun out of control and knocked them of the highway. The car flipped over three times before smashing to pieces at the bottom of the hill. Both mother and daughter are believed to have been dead when the car hit the ground. They are pictured below with only son and brother, Benjamin Montgomery, (age 5). Their funeral was held this morning."
Your eyes scanned past the picture to the one below, of two coffins. The one to the right, adult sized and covered with pink roses, to the left, child sized, topped with a doll. Your eyes flicked back up to the first picture. Yes, it was Benny.
"Died on the way back from picking up balloons for daughter's birthday celebration."
The last image was taken by an onlooker, five pink balloons, floating up aimlessly into the sky.
Holding back tears, you shove the newspaper away and run out of the building. So Melissa would have turned nine today. You stop by your car, sit in it awhile. Physically, your friend will be alright, but you and them will have Benny and his family on your conscious forever.
All because of a text. What if the text had waited? Maybe you and your friend could be playing ball right now, and Melissa, the little girl, could be welcoming friends to her ninth birthday.

Don't let this become your story. Texts can wait. Stop distracted driving.

Inspired by a true story I heard.