The ride home from the mall with my Great Uncle Stan and all my brothers and sisters was agonizing. My younger brother Quinton would not stop crying that we had gone the wrong way back home. On the other hand, Donnajo was attempting to sit in Uncle Stan’s lap while he was in the middle of driving, which more than likely caused the events that happened later on that night. Now even though it sounds really inappropriate for their age, all three of my recently nine-year-old siblings were in the front seat. We were in what used to be Stan’s truck, meaning there were only three seats in the front. Yet somehow the two oldest kids out of our deranged family got stuck in the back. Not to mention, we were also the only two kids with a seat belt on.
