Even through my ear phones I could hear the sirens, and bright red lights flashed against the posters, well, my posters on our walls. I ran over to the window where an ambulance rushed past our house, then a police car that was following parked poorly beside the curb. A middle-aged officer came out, standing tall and regal, like my sister always did.
He walked stiffly to our front door, knocking three, brisk times. I leaped off Hannah’s creaky bed and rushed down the stairs, two at a time. When I opened the door I saw the straight face of the officer.
“Hannah?”
“No, Dallas. And why are you here?”
By now my sister joined me by the entrance. He paused a while, letting out a long, overdramatic breath.
“Girls…”
I was almost dying from suspension. Then I realized that I wasn’t the one dying.
“Your dad was hit on the intersection half an hour ago. He’s on his way to the hospital.”