Saving Race Part 1: Irresponsible

Before the car accident, I was a runner. I ran every day, sometimes for miles a day. I was the star of school's my track and field team. I also played soccer and cheered, but running was my passion. I was constantly moving, constantly going. I was always restless. I couldn't stay still for any extended periods of time. School was always difficult for me; it was torturous to have to sit at a desk for eight hours a day. It got even worse once I started high school and they got rid of recess. At least recess had offered me a chance to stretch my legs a bit. Of course there was still gym, but even that ended after my sophomore year. I would have elected to take more of it, but I had other, required classes to fill my schedule with.

 

My name is Grace Brown, but everyone calls me Race. I'm sure you can guess why; it's a play on my name and my favorite activity. My parents, my friends, my boyfriend, even my teachers all call me it. I always sign my name Race. In fact, the only ones who don't call me Race are my grandparents. They stubbornly refuse to.

I was eighteen at the time of the crash. I'd just graduated high school and had a full ride to a prestigious university. My scholarship was for track and field, naturally. I was excited and my parents were beaming with pride. My father told everyone he could, even complete strangers.

 

Then the accident occurred, and scrapped all of my plans.

Now, I was a pretty responsible girl. I did well in school and followed all the rules my parents set for me. I had a curfew, and never did I stay out any later than that. I never experimented with sex or drugs, either. I had a steady boyfriend, Jay Robbins, and we were intimate, but I was on the pill and we took every

percaution necessary.

Then one night Jay, who was twenty-one at the time, invited me to go out drinking with five of his best friends. He had already produced fake I.D. for me. I was very conflicted. I knew that I should decline and go home. That would have been the responsible thing to do, and I didn't want to risk my scholarship. But I also wanted my boyfriend's friends to think I was cool. If I didn't go they would make fun of me for sure. So, in the end, I caved to peer pressure and went.

I had a lot of fun that night. I had my first taste alcohol...and got drunk. By the time the night was over everyone was flat out wasted. I should have called my Father to come and pick us up, but I was too afraid of getting in trouble. I would be grounded for life if my parents found out where I'd been, who'd I'd been with, and what I'd been doing. One of my boyfriend's friends offered to drive us home. He was just as drunk as the rest of us, but we all foolishly agreed. It was a mistake that I would regret for the rest of my life.