The story of rock fights brought back memories. There were about 10 of us 11 year olds in two teams throwing "dirt bombs" (clumps of dirt) at each other. It was cool because if you got hit, the clump would "explode" into dust.
I was hiding behind a big mound of dirt when I felt something heavy clump me on the head. Apparently, one of the kids threw a big rock and I got hit. I remember being stunned, but didn't feel pain. I looked around wondering what happened when I heard someone say "he's bleeding". I put my hand up to my head and it came back wet with blood. That's when I freaked out.
I don't remember how, but I think a friend helped me ride my bike back home. My parents had that "scared but don't freak out the child" look on their faces. We went to the hospital's emergency entrance - I remember everyone staring at me, and being quickly ushered into a room even though there others were waiting who were there before us. I happened to walk by a mirror and I was a mess. Face covered with dry blood, matted hair under a scrunched up bloody towel being pressed on the cut. I thought I looked pretty cool, actually. Ended up just needing a few stitches.
The boy who threw the rock came over with his mom the next day to apologize. Funny thing is, my mom was upset, but I wasn't - I was embarrassed for the kid for having to come over and apologize. If anything, the accident gave me a great story and a bit of hero status.
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