Pedestrians Always Have the Right of Way

     Everyone goes through those accidents that make them who they are today. A part of who I am is my cautious driving. Ask anyone, and they'll tell you, I'm really a safe driver. A part of learning to drive is knowing that pedestrians do, in fact, have the right of way. I know this, and I have always known this. Unfortunately, pedestrians still get hit. Unfortunately, safe drivers still hit pedestrians. I was at a stop light, turning left. Across the street, was a small boy, with bright red hair. He was laughing, and talking with his friend. I saw him there, and he was going to cross the street. I got a green arrow, and I hesitated. I knew he wanted to come the way I was going. We made eye contact. He didn't go. I inched forward, and made the decision that he wasn't going to go. Well into my turn, he decided it would be a good idea for it to be his turn, too. He stepped out in front of me. I slammed on my brakes as hard as I could. But the bright red hair, the horrified expression, the sound of his body hitting my car, will forever live in my mind.
     He was okay, of course. In fact, he wanted to just keep going and pretend nothing happened. I couldn't do that. That's a crime. A hit and run. I looked around me, through teary vision. A woman in a red car next to me was shaking her head at me. An old man yelled at me. Someone told the boy to take my information. We exchanged phone numbers, but the boy didn't want to. He just wanted to go home. I was crying uncontrollably, and I wasn't even the one who just got hit by a car. He was fine. Not a tear in sight. He kept going, and I sped away. Distraught, embarrassed, crying.
     It turned out, he was thirteen. His name was Tyler. He had no injuries, other than a scratch on his arm. My car had no damage. He was fine. I was not. Neither was his mother. She got to talk to me, from the police department. She screamed at me, "My child has been walking home since Kindergarten! He knows how to use a crosswalk!" I couldn't take it. I cried. The police took the phone back. He apologized, took my information. I cried for a month straight. My mother threatened to put me in counseling. I couldn't take the fact that I hit a kid. I could have killed him. I couldn't stand to look at myself, or my car. I wasn't even found at fault. I had to pay no price. Except a damaged conscience. And that hurts more than punishment.