I am running, which is ironic considering I rarely run. But here I am, sprinting up this hill, silently cursing it for being so steep, and cursing my legs for not being fast enough to get up the hill. Oh, and I don’t know where I am because I can’t see anything. It is pitch black out here. I hear the heavy breathing behind me and the sound of steps quickly hitting the ground. I know I’m being chased, and for good reason too. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. I’d be lying if this wasn’t the best feeling in the world.
Freshman year: the opportunity for a brand new start. I could finally ditch those awkward middle school days that make me cringe every time I think about them. I could also leave behind my middle school friends, whom I realized I was only friends with, because I had classes with them five times a week. They weren’t my real friends, not even close. It wasn’t until that night on September 22, 2012 when I realized who my true friends were.
It’s 11:54pm on a Saturday night and my five friends and I are walking on the street near Sami’s house. I’m unaware of my surroundings because it’s dark and I have never been here before. Sami says we are going to her cousin Ben’s house. I don’t know who Ben is or why we are walking to his house, but I don’t question her. I find that questions often complicate things that are meant to be simple.
When we approach the mailbox, we gather and discuss what we are going to do. It’s obvious Ben has his upperclassmen friends over, because there are several cars parked in the driveway. Our plan is to annoy them, since that’s what freshmen do best. At least that’s what they instill in our heads since the moment we enter high school. One rule: don’t mess with the seniors. My friends and I are about to break that rule.
We creep up to the house ever so slowly. We reach a bush and crouch behind it, scanning the vicinity. I see the incandescent light spewing from the garage and I can faintly hear the lively chatter of a group of people. We sit there for a few minutes and finally begin to inch closer and closer to the garage window. As we sneak up the driveway, past Ben’s opulent golf cart, Sami stops abruptly.
“Look! The keys are in the ignition,” Sami whispers with a mischievous look on her face. We were about to do something incredibly stupid.
Sami says we need to formulate a new plan so we quietly walk back to the bush. The new plan entails taking the keys to the golf cart and then knocking on the window to coax the upperclassmen outside. Once they realize we are there, they will try going after us with the golf cart, only to discover that the keys are gone. When we see the looks on their livid faces, we’ll know we won. Bailey and I are nominated to take the keys so we quickly run to the golf cart, Bailey takes the keys, and we run back to the bush. Bailey shoves the key in my hand as our four other friends tap on the windows of the garage. I begin to feel a little nervous because I’m responsible for the keys, and I have tendency to lose things. Not a good combination. I only have a few seconds to feel anxious about this though, because four shadows begin sprinting up the driveway screaming, “RUN!”
This driveway seems like it will go on forever. Eventually I spot the mailbox. I’m right on their heels as my friends cross the road, jump the ditch, and rummage through the woods. We peak behind a bush for a few minutes until the coast is clear. Nothing eventful seems to be happening, so I venture out of the woods with Bailey and Lexi trailing me. Alissa, Sami, and Jordan decide not to take any chances so they stay in the woods. The three of us hide behind the parked car on the street. Suddenly, we see two girls walking through the grass, completely engaged in conversation. The girls approach the car and before I know it Bailey is screaming at the top of her lungs, “AHHHH!” The girls nearly tumble to the ground in fright and my knees buckle, because I am laughing so hard.
The girls reach the house, and seconds later Ben and his friends come outside wearing blaze orange and camouflage, and holding something in their hands. Lexi quickly sprints to the tree line but it’s too late for Bailey and I.
I run like I have never run before in my life. I sprint because at that moment I think death is chasing me. Bailey and I hear popping noises as they trail us. The only thing that could mean is that they have paintball guns.  I can feel the key poking my leg through my pocket and hear Ben yelling to me.
“Give me back the keys!,” he says
“Promise you won’t shoot me,” I respond.
“I won’t shoot you,” he replies.
Bailey and I stop abruptly, her standing back just in case something would happen that would require her to get away quickly. Ben walks up to me with his paintball gun in his hand and I give him the keys. He takes them, but his gun remains pointed at me. I slowly back up thinking that we are fine now, but he just stands there pointing the gun at me. What was I thinking, believing that he wouldn’t shoot us for taking his keys? We are freshmen, why wouldn’t he shoot us? Once the realization sets in, I pivot real quick on my heels and book it out of there. I’m too slow though. The gun goes off.
My buttocks stings from the contact of the paint-filled bullet. I continue to run though. I catch up to Bailey when the gun goes off again. This time Bailey screams in pain. As I near the streetlamp I see the white splotch on her back where she got hit. I don’t hear the gun anymore but I see the headlights of a car just as I’m about to give up.
My lungs can’t keep up with the strain I’m putting on my body right now. I breathe in the cool air but there is much discomfort in my throat. It’s time to give in. I slow my pace on the paved road and watch as my friend continues to sprint ahead of me. As I’m walking on the side of the road, the headlights appear 100 yards behind me. This is it. This is how I’m gonna die, I think to myself. I can’t run anymore, I’m not fast enough. I quickly shuffle through the tall grass in the ditch and begin plucking the grass out, covering myself, hoping this sloppy attempt of camouflage saves me.
The car drives past the spot where I am hiding. I hear more popping noises, which indicates that they are blindly shooting at me. I pray that I don’t get hit and when my prayers are answered, I begin to worry about Bailey. I have no idea where she is. All I know is that she continued running down the street; the same street the car is headed down right now.
Ten minutes elapse until I hear Bailey calling my name. A wave of relief floods my body. Finally a familiar face. Those ten minutes waiting in the ditch felt like a lifetime without her. Bailey tells me that she hid behind a tree in someone's yard as the boys drove past shooting at her. One bullet hit the tree she was hiding behind. Her body is obviously aching from the contact of the first bullet and the laborious running. As we discuss the details of what happened, the rest of our friends walk up to us laughing. They all claim that they heard screaming and thought that we were dying. It sure felt like it at the time.
Walking home that night, I knew I had found my place. It was right here with these five people who were practically strangers a couple months ago. Sure, I had wounds from that night. But like everything else, those wounds healed. A bond was formed the night of September 22. A bond that endured all four years of high school and still continues to this day. We all went through something frightening, and we are all stronger because of it.