I didn’t plan on my sister having nails in her wrist. We were going to play at the park with our friends while our grandparents were at our house. None of us thought the day would end at the hospital.

It was a warm summer day, and our grandparents came to visit us. My sister and I were asking to go the the park, the one across the street with the stream and rope swing. My grandfather told us that he would take us, if we promised to listen to what he said. We agreed.

My grandfather, my sister and I crossed the street, careful to walk on the bright yellow speed bump. We always walked on it since the cars were already slowing down for it, and it made us more visible. As soon as we made it across the road, we sprinted toward the stream, leaping across to our friends.

Our favorite place at the park was the willow tree. It grew so there was a room-like structure in the branches, and we would often swing on the rope swing hanging from the longest branch. If we got tired of that, we would go hunting for frogs, trying to catch them in our little hands.

That day, though, we immediately went to the swings and slides. My sister and I wanted to go down the biggest slide, the one made of metal that soaked up the heat of the sun. I told my sister that I would go down first, and when she went down I would catch her at the bottom.

I climbed the twelve steps it took to get to the top, and jumped on the slide, warm metal squeaking against my skin. The wind rushed in my face and I landed in the pile of sand at the bottom. As promised, I caught my sister when she went down, and she asked if we could go again.

Having a moment of brilliance, I told her that we could actually climb up the slide, not the steps, and then go down the way we came. I demonstrated how to grip the red poles on the sides of the slide and slowly climb up without falling. I didn’t notice that she was actually right behind me, and when I turned to slide down again, she was blocking my way. I told her to move to the side so I could get past, but she didn’t didn’t listen. She didn’t even reply, and I was getting a little annoyed. In a moment of fury, I kicked her arm and she let go of the left side of the slide. She slipped, and let go of the right side as well. She fell off, putting her arm out to protect herself, and I knew this would end up being more than a bruise or scratch.

My sister began to scream, tears pouring down her face as my grandfather picked her up. We started running home, and when we crossed the street, we didn’t even use the yellow speed bump. My mother jumped up when we entered the house, and she and my grandmother looked at my sister’s wrist. They rolled up a towel to use as a splint, and bound it to her arm with pre-wrap. Whenever someone touched her wrist or jostled it too much, my sister would make a pained sound, and they would soothe her. My grandfather promised to watch me at home when they got her checked out at the hospital, and my mom and grandmother drove away.

That night I went out to eat with him; we went to Coney Island. I got a burger and a cherry pie, but couldn’t really concentrate because I was worried about my sister, even though cherry pie was my favorite dessert. I had a hard time falling asleep that night, and I woke when they finally got home from the hospital.

I went into my sister’s room, where she and my mom were sleeping. Slipping into bed with them and apologized to my sister over and over again, but she was too tired to really reply. My mother assured me she would be okay, and showed me her temporary cast; she would be getting a colored one in a few days. Before I could allow myself to fall asleep again, I gave my sister a hug, and tell her I wouldn’t let her climb up the slide again.