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Stitches

About Ahana Dasgupta

12 years old Ahana is a 7th grade student at Indian Fields School, New Jersey

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The sky is sapphire blue, with puffs of cotton like clouds scattered everywhere. With a sunscreen bottle and a hula hoop grasped in my hands, I run to the tree in the backyard filled with pearly white flowers. I chase the new sparkly hula hoop around the tree, laughing as if someone had told me a funny joke. Jumping through the hoop, twirling, prancing doing anything I can possibly do with a hula hoop. As I play with the toy, I move farther and farther away from my favorite tree, and turn back. I tread over to the girl curiously, like a scientist studying an unknown specimen. I look directly up at her. She is relaxing in the middle of two branches, shadows of leaves on her face. She seems to have a metal rod in her hand. Abruptly the metal rod totters on the branch it is balancing on.

The rod slowly tips over, striking my cheek. Tears form a waterfall as I run to my back door. I bang on it, hoping that my mom would hear me. She comes running down the hallway.
“What happened?” Mom asks. Her eyebrows were frowning. She rushes to the kitchen to get an icepack and a pile of cotton balls.
“Here take these.” She hands me the cotton balls. “Oh, and gently hold the ice pack to the part where you got hurt,” her voice quivers.

Gently my mom dabs the area with the cotton balls so that it would slow the bleeding. She acts calmly as if she isn’t worrying at all, but inside she is frightened at what has happened, when she decides to take her eyes off of me just for a few minutes. She urgently calls my dad who is still at office. Dad rushes home and takes me to the emergency care hospital. We wait in line, Dad scribbling furiously on the clipboard that is grasped in his hands. The walls, bleak and grey, making the room sadder than it already is. Toys lie strewn across the floor, the bright colors fading. If not for my cheek, I would’ve started to look around and play with the worn down toys.

“Next….. Ahana Dasgupta,” the lady says, with mild expression and grimaces when she looks at my face. We walk silently towards the elevator, all of us wondering what the surgeons are going to do.

I sit down on the blue leather bed with the help of my dad. I stare at the plain wall. “They should really paint the wall pink, it would make me and all the other kids way happier!” My creative kindergarten mind happily thinks. After what seems like a long time, the surgeons walk into the room, raising their eyebrows when they see my accident.

“Okay, I’m gonna put this around you so you don’t flail your arms and disturb us while we are doing your stitches.” A surgeon says holding up a blue strap that they wrap around me. I feel like I am being squeezed by a boa constrictor.

They direct me to lie down and the plump man finally begins. They start their procedures with the various instruments that they has laid out on display. With the corner of my eye, I can see my mother walking silently out of the door.

“I don’t want to do this!” I yell throwing a tantrum.
“Shhh!” The nurse scolds me.” You’re scaring all the children. If you would be a good girl, I’ll give you a lollipop!” I quickly quiet down already imagining the taste of the sweet lollipop in my mouth.

The surgeons are finally done after forty minutes of work. Their foreheads are beaded with sweat. I can barely open my left eye, but otherwise I feel better than before. The lady gives me the sugary lollipop she had promised and we trudge away. As I put on my seat-belt in the car, I realize that I have learned an important lesson – curiosity killed the cat.

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