Have you ever thought how strange it is that people snap their fingers? Who, out of all things, decided to put two fingers together and see what sound it'd make? Either way, it's one of the few things I still remembered doing from my time as a little baby.

My Dad snapping his fingers to some jazz, by the fireplace, while my Mom cradled me in her arms. I was two years old, could barely crawl, and only mumble in babyspeak. I couldn't even remember the event until recently. At every family gathering, my Dad would say what would happen after, to my embarrassment, but his memory of the event wasn't perfect, he only seemed to remember the place, and when, little else. Dad always had faulty memory. It even got to me.

I stared at my Dad, and started gibbering, mashing my fingers together. And then, eventually, I snapped my fingers, and kept going at it. Somewhat, at least. That's how I started snapping all the time. It didn't matter when or why, but I snapped to all my favorite songs. Even when we were moving, helping my Step Sister load the luggage onto the moving truck. As the new school year started, my Dad got a promotion at his job, which required us to move from the quiet North Carolina countryside to the city in Brooklyn. In this area, me and my Dad kinda stood out. We had Platinum Blonde hair and blueish grey eyes. Though, my Step-Mother and Sister had black hair and blue eyes. My hair was naturally short and slicked back, with a few bangs. In contrast, this area was mostly Asian, which was somewhat new from our home, but not entirely foreign, we had some polite old neighbors back home. Our new neighbors, or at least the parents or whatever of them, were nice, so we felt welcome.

Shortly after we settled in, I realized that School was coming up, on the 5th of September. My grades landed me in a nice Private School here, but since it's a Private High School, I was worried about the kind of people I'd meet. However, the worries of my Freshman year would be overshadowed, to say the least.

I snapped along to my favorite Jazz on the way to the bus stop for my first day, which was no more than a hop, skip, and a jump away, so there were little worries. I crossed an intersection. There was an old lady a little behind me. I looked back, but there were no worries, the light only just went green. No worries. Well, might as well cut to the chase of this story, instead of building it up.

It was only 6:30, so I guess he was exhausted, but that doesn't excuse a trucker from falling asleep at the wheel. I picked up the sound seconds before he would've hit her. I jumped. She fell away from the truck's path, but my arms didn't have the same luck. After a split second the pain stopped, and so did everything else.