The Day After The Accident
The Final Game of the Season
Admiral Biscuit
The day after The Accident, Sunset could feel the mood as soon as she arrived at school. She knew she would; she knew that the gossip had already traveled far and wide.
She didn’t share a morning class with Kerfuffle, but she could imagine what that classroom would be like; students would have shown up earlier than normal, and they’d’ve first looked to see if Kerfuffle was at her desk—she wouldn’t be.
Then they’d’ve been watching the door for her to arrive, and of course she wouldn’t. Some students would have known for sure, others would have only heard what had percolated through the rumor mill. Some would have been blithely unaware, maybe getting filled in at the last moment, hushed whispers around the classroom.
Or maybe it was just silent in the classroom as everyone waited. Why not? Her homeroom was quieter than normal; the morning gossip had only one subject, discussed in hushed voices, every ear turned for the crackle of the speaker on the wall, the voice from On High: an appropriate funerary atmosphere.
And then the morning announcements began: the usual morning dreck that everybody ignored. Would there even be an announcement about Kerfuffle? Or, when it came down to it, was that not really school business?
As the Tannoy droned on and on, it seemed less and less likely anything would be said, and then right at the very end, there it was, just a brief mention. Official confirmation of The Accident.
Not that confirmation was needed; Sunset knew all about it already.
Her ears started burning as soon as Kerfuffle’s name got mentioned; Sunset slid down in her seat. Nobody is looking at you. That was probably true; everyone was focused on the loudspeaker, either hearing about it for the first time or recognizing the confirmation of the rumor. School kids gossiped, but the voice from the loudspeaker was the Truth.
Bits and pieces of the announcement stuck in her mind to play back later; it was so weird to hear the news delivered with an even, steady voice. There was an accident, Kerfuffle’s at the hospital, her condition is serious, the counselor and Nurse Snowheart will be available to talk with students—the last parts of the announcement were covered by an ever-increasing babble of whispers.
I heard she was in a coma.
It isn’t serious, she’ll be back in a couple days, you’ll see.
Someone told me last night that she was paralyzed.
It’s really bad, she might die.
Sunset closed her eyes but that didn’t make the words stop, it was like a roar in her ears, as inevitable as the ocean crashing on the beach, carving away the shoreline. The silence from the loudspeaker had been replaced with an ever-increasing volume of chatter, growing until it became unignorable.
Sunset didn’t participate; she had lots on her mind and nothing to say.
•••••
Morning classes were a waste, especially today. When the bell finally rang, Sunset shuffled out of class with all the other students and with no memory of what had been taught. If the teacher had decided to give the lesson in Greek it might have stuck better in her head; everything was in a weird mental fog.
It didn’t help that her mind was easily able to fill in all the details that hadn’t been announced. The tangled wreckage of Kerfuffle’s bicycle up against a building, the red sports car still up on the sidewalk, showing a surprising lack of damage for the tragedy which had occurred.
What did they call the car in the detective novels? The accident vehicle? The striking vehicle? Why did she need to know that, it changed nothing.
The slow sweep of lights from the emergency vehicles painting everything in an eerie play of color and shadow; paramedics and firefighters working on her limp body while a cop took statements from onlookers and from the driver. Spray-painted markings on the ground and little yellow triangles with numbers beside all the evidence: depending on how things turned out at the hospital, this might change from a tragic motor vehicle accident to a crime scene.
And it didn’t end when the ambulance went away with its sole passenger; the scene still needed to be cleaned up so nothing was left in the morning, so it looked like nothing had happened. A wrecker to haul off the car—and, bizarrely enough, Kerfuffle’s bicycle; the sidewalk still needed to be cleaned, and a fire truck was perfect for that morbid duty. The little yellow triangles got picked up, but nobody bothered to clean off the spray paint . . . it would fade in time.
•••••
Notes had already started appearing on Kerfuffle’s locker. The first, scrawled in Rainbow’s atrocious handwriting, had already been there when Sunset had arrived in the morning; after first break there were almost a dozen. Sunset tore a sheet out of her notebook and wrote something while agonizing if it was too much or not enough. Did she say the right things? Would Kerfuffle ever even see it, or was it a futile exercise, whistling past the graveyard?
Would they stay there, would they be collected and delivered to the hospital, or would the janitor clean them up on his nightly rounds and pitch them all into his wastebasket?
It ate at her, gnawing inside her.
Rumors kicked into high gear; there was only one topic of discussion between classes and then during classes as well. Teachers gave up on actually teaching anything; there was no point. Nobody was paying any attention to the lessons at all. Someone had a sister who was a nurse who was texting updates, or maybe it was a cousin or a parent or a friend of a friend. The ‘no cell phones in class’ rule was ignored; the teacher was as curious as everyone else.
She’s gone through surgery and is in recovery, her injuries are serious but do not appear to be life-threatening at this time. What did that mean? A glimmer of hope, maybe it wasn’t as bad as it had first seemed.
Sunset hated feeling helpless, and yet there was nothing she could do; whatever happened next was out of her control.
‘I heard’ or ‘Someone said’ were tossed about during lunch and the communal volleyball table had a conspicuous absence. Several students went over before or after eating their lunch and talked to her friends.
Sunset couldn’t sit there, not today, maybe not ever again. It was still uncertain; everything was still up in the air. Her absence wasn’t particularly notable; everything was in flux. As she looked around the cafeteria, she noticed an unusual number of teachers were eating lunch with the students; even Nurse Snowheart was sitting at a table in the cafeteria and a few students spoke with her.
Sunset finished her meal with no memory of what she’d eaten. It was a collection of tasteless textures that were only an obligation rather than a need, and she gave up halfway through. There was no point in eating anymore.
Even without, lunch break dragged on and on and then it was over; she gathered up everything she hadn’t eaten and chucked it in the trash. To her complete lack of surprise, Kerfuffle’s locker door was no longer large enough to hold all the well-wishes; they were now spreading to either side.
Somebody had brought balloons.
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Pinkie. The balloons had to be Pinkie.
11785827
There are black balloons & crepe paper.
11785827
Nocreature can be uncheered with balloons.
Though I would never trust highschoolers with balloons. "Spirit week" was the worst experience in my life.
https://derpibooru.org/images/2305026
Balloons are for spreading joy, not popping. It hurts my soul to have balloons popped around me. And don't get me started on New Years and "Gender Reveals." Evil barbarians.
11785827
Everybody thinks that, but Pinkie doesn't have a monopoly on balloons.
That having been said, it was probably her. Who else could come up with balloons on a moment's notice?
11785838
Yeah, although that's a little dark for the moment. Those are more reserved for schools who have made the poor choice of having orange and black as their school colors.
Which I know all about, 'cause I attended not one, but two schools where those were the official colors.
11786050
I feel like if I were to search, there's at least one video disproving our hypothesis.
I can say that because of circumstances which aren't germane here, I despise Pinkie's Smile Smile Smile song.
11786227
You don't like the Smile song? I thought if nothing else, the choral aspect was well done.
11786815
It's not about how well written the song is, it's for reasons which have nothing to do with the show.
Getting run over is not fun. I got runover 1 night. It took me 10 months too recover. I am the weirdo wearing an orange & yellow high-visibility SafetyVest with retroreflective strips both night and day.
Nice metaphor for the only true way the pain of her guilt will ever subside.
The snapshots in time potrayal of her days really serves her gnawing mindset. Minimal detail of the accident while leaving many questions. Was she the driver? Did she accidently push Kerfuffle the wrong way? In what was is it truly her fault, or is it?
This is beyond what I'd thought of when I sent what I did. Just so emotionallly wrought.
11788028
Some years ago, I worked with a tech who'd been hit by a car. He was 'healed' in the sense that it had been years ago, but he still had lots of issues which I don't imagine can be easily fixed.
Given how stupid a significant number of drivers are, I would be wearing high-viz if I was anywhere near where a car might get me.
11789193
I won't give spoilers (you've read the story, but other people coming along might not have yet). I've been--well, not exactly in her situation, but in similar situations where time gets really weird and you're sort of going through the motions while not really accomplishing anything at work/school (9/11, for example)
Thank you! It was a challenging prompt--honestly, I knew what I wanted to do pretty quick, but I didn't know if I had the chops to make it happen. It's very much not the kind of thing I usually write.
11791103
Okay, I admit that I am the weirdo wearing the high-visibilty orand-&-yellow SafetyVest with RetroReflective strips both night and day. I even went back to the comment and deleted the "Not". After all, it is very easy to get caught out at night:
Last Saturday, I had to go shopping. I was supposed to get back an hour before sunset, but got delayed and returned an hour after sunset. Once run-over, ¡twice shy!
Alec of TechnologyConnections created a cool video about retroreflection:
¡It is Retro!