Do you believe in miracles? If your answer is no, then you’re wrong. God didn’t create us to go on with our lives without miracles. Miracles are happening everywhere, and all the time. A miracle could be as simple as accomplishing something you would have never been able to accomplish, or a coincidence that changed your life forever, in a good way. A miracle has happened to my friend, Riley, and his dad, Mr. B.
It was a casual Friday, and Riley and some of his friends, including me, were riding in Michael’s, his older brother’s, new Toyota truck. We were headed back from the mall, going to my house for dinner. All of a sudden, Riley, who was sitting in the back of the truck, with the rest of us, fell out while we were driving on highway 59. He hung onto the back of the truck, while flying in the air. Everyone started yelling at Michael, hoping he would hear them, and stop the truck. But apparently, he couldn’d hear a peep, because of the loud radio he was listening to inside the truck.
Then, a brown, beat up, Belair 57, starts following us on the highway. We all got scared, and Riley was still hanging onto the back, while everyone was still trying to pull him into the truck, but he was too heavy, and scared.
Suddenly, the Belair came up so close to the back of the truck, that the pointy symbol at the front edge of it poked Riley in the eye. Blood gushed everywhere and all over the streets. Everyone was still screaming. I was panicking, not knowing what to do in this situation, while everyone else was still trying to pull Riley into the truck. Nothing could help us now. We didn’t know what would happen next, but we sure did find out.
A man sitting in the passenger seat of the Belair, scrolls down his window and pokes his head out. He was holding a pistol, and we all could tell that it wasn’t just to shoot birds, it was to hurt us. He shot Riley in the chest. We all were still trying to brainstorm ways to pull Riley into the truck. Nothing worked. That same man shot Riley a second time, then a third in his chest. Then a fourth time near his stomach. He shot him again in the chest, blood still pouring out of his body. I could see Riley’s eyes slowly dialate, and open and close in a pattern.
Finally, Michael heard all of the commotion through his side mirror and steps on the breaks, with a horrified look on his face. Riley fell to the floor and the Belair crushed him. The truck rode down the street, slowly, as a reaction to the crash of the Belair behind us. Michael jumped out of the truck, like we did, and charged towards the Belair as anger and harted flashed across his face in less than a second. The Belair quickly backed up and that same man sitting in the passenger seat pushed his arm out of the car window, which was still slightly open now, and shot Riley again. But this time he aimed for his heart, and he didn’t miss.
The Belair drove off in a hurry. We were all wondering why that man in the car wanted to kill Riley so badly. It’s not like Riley did anything to him. It was all so puzzling.
We all ran towards Riley and picked him up, carefully, hoping that picking him up wouldn’t hurt him anymore. Me and a girl named Fallen, also one of Riley’s best friends, carried him to the passenger seat of the truck and layed him there. I took out a napkin and some towels from the back, that just happened to be there, and wiped the blood off of Riley’s chest and face. It was a horrible sight. And also, me not being able to stand the smell of blood, was bearing it, with the intention of helping a friend in need.
Michael dug in my purse, searching for my cell phone, and dialed my father’s work number, while everyone else was also calling their parents and explaining to them about what had just happened.
Soon, my father and Mr. B arrived in an ambulance. Mr. Bjumped out of the ambulance, crying so hard, it looked like he would never smile ever again. He stared at the scene, the blood, the unhappy faces, huge dent in the truck, and worst of all, the bullets stuck in Riley’s chest. His expression became more and more sad every time he looked at Riley. He would look at the ground, then at Riley, the blood, then at Riley, and at the car. His tears slid down his cheeck like a newborn whale would learn to use its blowhole and squirt water out like crazy.
He started talking, “Riley! My boy! My wonderful boy! I can’t believe this! Who knows what will happen now! I shouldn’t have let him go with all of you! And Michael! I am so very disappointed! He is your brother, and you didn’t even care! I can’t believe all of you! None of you had one inch of care for my boy! And look at him! His eyes aren’t even open! What has happened?! Ugh!”
Then we all started to explain to Mr. B, and calm him down. But he didn’t calm down. He just burst out and yelled at us. But we forgave him of course, it wasn’t his fault. We all would act like him if something happened to our son.
After all of the highway drama, my dad drove all of us, while Riley was strapped to a bed on the back of the ambulance, to the hospital, Memorial Hermann, by H-E-B. Me and all the others drove Riley’s bed to the ER on the 14th floor, while Mr. Bogman was holding Riley’s hand and chanting, “Stay with me. You can do it, Riley, my boy. C’mon. Just stay with me.”
When we reached the room, my dad put a hand in front of all of us and gestured us to stay outside, although Mr. Bogman was already inside. Me and all the others were sitting in the waiting room for about 2 hours when Michael got up and said in an angry voice, “I can’t take it anymore! He’s my brother in there! I should be in there, too!”
He ran towards the room and pushed the door open, and all of us followed him in, thinking it was a great chance to see what was going on inside. The first thing that our eyes catched was the EKG. Sadly, the waves were a straight line. I wouldn’t even call it a wave. We heard my dad breath, “We lost him.” Everyone burst into tears, for we had just lost a great friend of ours.
I ran to Riley, and sat on the chair next to his bed, and I held his free hand. I started praying in my head, hoping that there was a way that he would come back. I would do anything to get a friend back. All of the great memories we had together started flying around my head. And it was sad to think of them when that someone that I had shared those memories with had just passed away. It was horrible.
Suddenly, everyone started hearing a beeping sound. We didn’t know where it came from. “Beep, beep, beep, beep.” We all looked at the EKG, and there was one of God’s miracles. The EKG waves were bumpy and nice. No straight line at all. A smile flashed across everyone’s face. But the best smile, belonged to Mr. Bogman. It was the best smile, he had ever smiled in his whole life. And I knew why. Riley was back.
Five minutes later, Riley’s eyes slowly opened and closed. The first person he saw was his father, and there was a smile that flashed across his face also. Mr. Bogman was speechless. He didn’t need speech to show what he was feeling, he just needed expressions, and actions.
Mr. B hugged Riley, and so did the rest of us one by one. A nurse walked in the ER with some flowers, chocolates, and a heart-warming smile. My dad held Mr. B’s free hand and said, “It’s a miracle, Mr. B.”
You see, miracles come in many ways. As I said before, a miracle could be you accomplishing something you’ve never accomplished, or a coincidence that changed your life forever, but in this case, a miracle could be a son, friend’s son, or a best friend’s life being saved. Miracles can happen. And everyday I say to Mr. B, “It was truly a miracle, Mr. B,” and a smile would flash across his face. It was truly a miracle.