Ami means "Saturday's child" in Ghanese, and my mother, a teacher, thinks that it's the perfect name for me for a dozen reasons, not even including the fact that I was born and conceived on a Saturday. She says that I hold the spirit of Saturday, that I'm both wild and relaxed, that I'll do anything the majority wants as long as it doesn't push my loose morals. She says that she loves that about me, she loves that I don't stress over everything like most people do and that I can find peace in the middle of a life or death situation. My father, a taxi driver, hates that about me. He says that I'm too easily distracted and that'll keep me from reaching the bright future that everyone sees for me. I agree with them both. I love the way I am, but I know for a fact that I won't achieve the future that everyone else wants and sees for me, and I really couldn't care less. I'm not doctor material; it isn't even the blood that bothers me, I just couldn't be bothered with dropping everything I'm doing to go help some stranger. I'd rather go to a Forest Fest and stay there until my vision becomes dim and my memories vague; that's exactly what I was doing when it happened.
It was supposed to be our last wild party before everyone left to become doctors and lawyers or follow their dreams; I was with Kurt, my slightly chubby ivory skinned boyfriend that's going to be in an indie rock band, and his best friend Stuart, a soon to be accountant with a passion for sweater vests. Getting what's considered a bit too loose in the first few hours for any party, Kurt decided to drag me off and into the dance floor.
Even though we were surrounded by hundreds of people, everyone swayed in perfect harmony with the lazy beat. As songs and tempos changed, so did the crowd's mood as the night progressed. Bodies slowly began to move in closer all around, huddling as if our little intoxicated bubble would keep us from the lucid dreams our parents have of our future. I had lost Kurt somewhere in between the last dozen or so songs and had found the drink fountain in the sea of people. For most of the night I kept my eyes closed and breathing shallow as I drifted in and out of my reality. The only problem is that when I drift, my mind takes me to other worlds with new nightmares and tonight was the worst one yet.
I didn't realize that I had passed out until I felt the air rushing out of my lungs and the stab of tree branches breaking against my body.