May 11, 2011
By Anonymous

With the commotion of the school, it seemed as if ten minutes ago had been simply a dream. I told myself I was still in calculus, Mr. Cyr was still drowning on about functions and square roots. It was a dream, I repeated internally until I was shaken awake to realize it wasn’t.

I’d woken up this morning as I had any other Tuesday. My alarm blared that ridiculously screeching pitch that alarm clocks do, at 6:00. I squeezed my left eye shut and slowly cracked open the other. Taking note that the sun was indeed not up yet, my brother was in the shower, and my mother hadn’t came thundering down the hall to arouse me from my slumber. I ten took an inventory of clothes piled high at the end of my bed, my new favorite shoes, sitting, waiting for me. My feet searched around the blankets until they found a pocket, and I regretfully kicked off my comfort.

As my toes landed on the cool wood of the floor, I contemplated crawling back into the safety of bed. My brother scuttled into his room, and I took over the shower. Barely conscious, the soap fell from my hands, twice. The shampoo bottle was, thankfully, already open. Squirting a glob into my hand, I lathered and thought about what we’d be doing in class. The words to a song popped into my head and I started to sing along, only to notice the music wasn’t there. Laughing at my own silliness, I was reminded of a nerdy kid that sits behind me in class.

After I had gotten dressed and presentable, I climbed onto the school bus, took my usual seat and waited for another fun filled Tuesday in February. Periodically, snowflakes tumbled down from the sky and could be seen on other passengers heads. I wondered to myself, how much longer until the snow is completely gone and we can stop wearing these stupid bulky parkas. My thoughts were interrupted when my bus driver stopped, waiting for someone who didn’t come. Normally this wouldn’t even something to blink an eye at, however, this particular someone does not miss the bus. This someone does not miss school. I remember an exact time when I turned around to ask for a pencil when he informed me that he’d never missed a day of school since kindergarten. Needless to say, I never turned around again. But still, it was troubling to see him not on the bus, it gave me an unexplainable feeling of dread, like the world was spinning backwards.

By the time I got to school I’d forgotten all about the weird kid missing the bus. I’d gone to meet up with my friends, talking about the gossip and what not about Stevie dating Kayla, and the new vandalism in the girls bathroom. No one noticed when the bell rang, and continued talking, some people headed into the cafeteria to make an attempt at a balanced breakfast. My friends and I headed to the bathroom to check out what some angry girl felt the need to right on a bathroom stall.

Dropping our bags by the door, we wandered into each stall looking for something interesting. Only a couple of gum wads later did we hear the shots. Thinking at first someone had slammed a locker, we didn’t run out immediately. Upon hearing another bang, and screams followed by stampeding did my friend Kate dash outside. I tried to grab her arm and pull her into a stall to hide. I missed though, and she left the bathroom. A third shot rang out, and I recognized the piercing screech of my best friend.

“So you never saw the shooter?” Asked the police officer a third time, when I had deterred from his interrogation inquiries. Looking at my feet, I could feel my tears form little streams down my cheeks, droplets of the salty water hit my shoes. The shoes coated in my friends blood, the shoes she helped me pick out only last week. “No, I did not see the shooter.”

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