Becky was waiting for him on her front porch, in the white satin strapless dress he'd bought for her. It molded her figure perfectly, without being too tight, and she looked like a fairy princess, one of her sisters had said. She was wearing her long blond hair in a French twist, and the pair of white satin high-heeled pumps she had bought herself. Johnny pinned the white rose corsage on her, and she smiled up at him adoringly. He bent to kiss her then, and her brothers, standing nearby, hooted and jeered, as her mother came out from the kitchen to smile at them.

“You both look like you belong in a magazine,” Pam Adams said with a loving grin. Becky looked prettier than ever that night, and Johnny looked more than his nearly eighteen years. “Have a good time, kids. This is your one and only senior prom. One day it'll be an important memory … enjoy every minute of it, and make it a night you'll never forget.” Every moment seemed precious to her now. She had learned irrevocably that in the end, memories were all you had.

“We will, Mom,” Becky said, and kissed her on the cheek as she left.

“Drive carefully,” she admonished them, and Johnny promised her that he would, as he always did. He was sensible and responsible, and she had never worried about him, it was just something she said.

They met half a dozen of their friends at a nearby restaurant, everyone was in great spirits, and all the girls admired each other's dresses. They were all wearing corsages like hers, and the boys were all wearing roses on their lapels. They looked young and happy and excited, and when they left for the prom at eight-fifteen, they were all in a good mood. One of the other couples had decided to ride with them, having gotten a ride to the restaurant with someone else. And by nine o'clock they were at the dance.

It was a fun night for all of them. There was a live band, for most of the night, and one of the seniors acted as deejay between sets. The music was good, the food was plentiful, and only a few of their friends sneaked in booze and beer. Most of the students were content to stay sober for the night. It was an exciting night for everyone, the usual romances seemed to thrive, there were a few minor arguments, and only one fight broke out between two troublemakers, but it was quickly squelched. It was a night without mishap or event, and at midnight, when the dance ended, everyone stood outside, deciding where to go next. There was an all-night diner nearby where they all liked to go for hamburgers, and some of the boys decided to go to a local bar and try out their fake IDs.

Johnny and Becky had danced most of the night, talked to friends, said hello to almost everyone, and by the end of the night, they were ready to go to Joe's Diner for hamburgers and shakes, with a large group of their friends. They offered a ride to the same couple that had come with them, and at twelve-thirty they were driving away from the school, when a car full of guys from the football team sped by in a convertible and blew kisses at the girls. They honked their horn frantically, and shouted at Johnny, asking if he wanted to race, and he shook his head with a grin. He didn't like playing games like that, particularly on a night like tonight, and with two girls in the car. And as he honked his horn good-naturedly at them, they flew by in the convertible, and careened off at the next intersection, heading for the only bar in town that turned a blind eye to serving kids.

Becky and the other girl were talking and laughing, and gossiping about their friends, when they reached the next intersection, and Johnny drove sedately into it when the light changed. He was telling the boy in the backseat a story about one of the guys on the football team when he saw something flash out of the corner of his eye, and heard a sudden blaring of horns and screeching of tires, and as he looked toward it, he saw the same convertible heading toward him, coming back the way they had come only a few minutes before. They were going nearly eighty miles an hour, and screaming wildly as they roared past the other cars, and Johnny stepped hard on the brake. But he suddenly realized, as he did, that he couldn't stop in time, and he turned sharply to avoid the speeding car, heading into the traffic coming the other way as Becky screamed.

What happened after that was a blur for all of them. There was a sudden crash, and a huge impact followed by an explosion of glass and the sound of grinding steel. One of the girls said later that it felt like they'd hit a wall. They were instantly surrounded by honking, spinning, veering cars, as the convertible stopped in the midst of the melee. The boys in it flew high and wide, only the driver was left in the car, as the others landed on top of other cars and on the street, and Johnny's car spun like a top. He had done everything he could to stop it, and it only came to rest finally pinned between the divider and a passing truck, and when it stopped, there was silence everywhere. A witness said later that Becky's dress was covered with blood, the windshield looked like crumpled cellophane, and there was soft moaning from the backseat. Becky was unconscious, and Johnny's head was bent over the steering wheel.

They had all had their seatbelts on, and there was no sound for what seemed like an eternity, until finally a man with a flashlight came and peered into the car, and as he shone the light on them, he could hear crying from the backseat. He could hear the sound of ambulances in the distance by then, and he was afraid to touch anyone. He just backed away, as he watched people slowly climbing out of cars, there were already half a dozen people sitting by the side of the road, looking bloodstained and dazed. Five cars and a truck had been involved in the accident, and someone said the truck driver was dead, but as the paramedics got out of the ambulance, he couldn't tell them much else.

“There are a bunch of kids hurt in the car over there,” he said, pointing at Johnny's car, “but I heard someone cry … I think they're okay,” he said, as he got back in his car, and the paramedics hurried toward Johnny's car as two more ambulances arrived on the scene with a fire rescue team. Soon there were flashing lights and paramedics everywhere, checking cars, applying bandages, helping people out of cars. Within minutes, there were four bodies lying on the side of the road with tarps on them, among them the truck driver, as one of the paramedics helped Becky out of the front seat of the car, looking dazed with a gash on the side of her face that was still dripping blood on her dress, and another paramedic gently moved Johnny away from the steering wheel and felt for a pulse, and the couple in the backseat got out on Becky's side, they were both shaken up but appeared to be unhurt. The paramedic shone a light into Johnny's eyes as the other three were led away, and then he felt for a pulse again. He looked into the face of the handsome boy in the tux, there was a huge bump on his head, and he knew instantly that he had broken his neck as he laid his head gently back against the seat, and signaled to one of the firemen, who rushed over to help.

“The kid in the driver's seat is dead,” he said quietly, so the others wouldn't hear, and then he signaled for a gurney to come and take him away. They slipped him out of the car, and covered him, and Becky turned just as they were taking him away.

“What are you doing? Why are you doing that?” she screamed at them. “Take that thing off his face!” She ran toward them, still dripping blood everywhere in her ruined dress. The whole top of it was now red. And she ran toward Johnny's lifeless form and tried to grab at the tarp covering him, but one of the paramedics pulled her away. She fought him valiantly as he held her in his arms, and she sobbed.

“Come on over here,” he said quietly, “you're all right… come and sit down…. We have to take you to the hospital,” he said, holding her firmly by the arms, but she was hysterical. She was sobbing and clawing at him, and trying desperately to get away. “I have to go to Johnny … I have to … I have to …” She was gasping for air, and choking on sobs, as one of the firemen comforted her and held her in his arms. “That's Johnny … he can't be … he can't… oh God … no …” She sank slowly toward the pavement again, and the fireman picked her up easily and deposited her in an ambulance, and a moment later, they sped away.

It took two hours to clear the scene, get everyone to nearby emergency rooms, or on their way home. Parents were called, kids were given rides by police officers, and all five of the bodies were sent to the morgue. And three police officers and a highway patrolman divided up the list of addresses where they had to go, to break the news. The truck driver was from out of state, and all they had to do was notify the trucking firm, and they would take care of the rest.

The officer who went to Johnny's address knew who he was, and had a daughter in Charlotte's class. He had done painful tasks like this before, and he was dreading what he would see on the boy's mother's face. He knew what a great kid Johnny was. He rang the bell at three A.M., and he had to ring it again. Jim Peterson finally came to the door, in his pajamas, and Alice was standing behind him in an old dressing gown. They looked frightened as soon as they saw a policeman at the door.

“Is something wrong, Officer?” They had never had a problem with Johnny, and it seemed hard to imagine that he had been arrested now. They wondered if he'd been caught speeding, or had been arrested for being drunk. But any of those possibilities seemed impossible to believe.

“I'm afraid so,” he said, addressing them both. “May I come in?” he asked cautiously as they stood aside, and he walked into their living room, and stood there looking grim. “There's been an accident,” he said as Alice caught her breath, and her hand went instinctively to Jim's arm and grabbed at him. “Your son John has been killed. I'm sorry, ma'am … Mr. Peterson … it was a six-vehicle collision, and there were a number of fatalities, I'm just so sorry that one of them was your son.”

“Oh my God …” Alice said, feeling a rush of panic wash over her like a tidal wave, still trying to sort out the words, “oh my God … no … that can't be … are you sure there isn't some mistake?” Jim hadn't said a word so far, but there were tears running down his face.

“Another car hit them and forced them between the divider and a truck. I don't think there was anything your son could have done to avoid the accident. It's a terrible thing when we lose young people like that. I know how you must feel.” Alice wanted to say that there was no way he could know, but she couldn't speak. Her mind was whirling incoherently, and she felt faint, as the officer helped her to a seat. “Would you like a glass of water, ma'am?” She shook her head silently as tears streamed down her face.

“Where is he now?” she finally managed to croak out, thinking of him lying by the side of the road somewhere, or in his car. She wanted to hold him in her arms, or die with him. She couldn't even think.

“They've taken him to the county coroner. You'll have to make arrangements for him, and we'll do anything we can to help.” She nodded again, as Jim Peterson walked into the kitchen on shaky legs and came back with a drink. It looked like water, but it was straight gin, and Alice knew from the look of terror in his eyes what it was. He looked panic-stricken, which was how she felt.

The officer stayed with them for another half hour, and then left them, after telling them again how sorry he was. It was after four in the morning by then, and Alice and Jim sat in their living room, staring at each other, not knowing what to say or do. He took her in his arms finally, and they sat side by side on the couch and sobbed. They sat there that way for hours, and she didn't say anything to him when he went and got another drink. She almost wished she could find solace in that too. There was nothing to comfort her, to soften the blow, and when the sun came up, she felt as though the end of the world had come. It seemed particularly offensive that it was another brilliantly sunny day. She couldn't imagine a world without Johnny in it, a life that didn't include him. Hours before, he had walked out of the house in his tux, with a rose on his lapel, and now he was gone. It was a lie, she told herself, it had to be, a cruel prank someone had played on them, and any minute, he would walk in the door and laugh at them. The officer had told them, when they inquired, that Becky had escaped with only a gash on her cheek, and the other couple in the car had been unhurt. Johnny had taken the full brunt of it, and an evil fate had taken him from them. They were relieved to know that the others were all right, but it seemed so unfair that Johnny had been killed, and through no fault of his own. He hadn't been careless or irresponsible, hadn't been drunk, had done nothing to deserve what had happened to him. He had been the perfect boy, the perfect son, everyone's hero and friend, and now he was gone, at seventeen.