Even though I couldn't hear them, I could tell what they were talking about by the way they kept glancing over at me, as though to make sure I wasn't looking at them. And if I was, they wouldn't care. They'd keep talking about it. I felt like crying; it just wasn't right! You don't pick on someone or talk about them when someone important to you dies. It's not only impolite, but threatens them into a nervous breakdown.
I sighed, wondering if any of my friends would stand up for me, tell them to stop. But as I watched them laugh and joke, I knew they were trying not to look at me so they wouldn't feel bad or do something wrong. They weren't sure how to act, and I really couldn't blame them.
It was a week after the accident; my mom asked me to use the truck to move my little brother's old bed from the house to the shed, when I got distracted. Mom stepped out in front of me, and I didn't see her and...
Remembering the sight of her pinned against the tree brought tears to my eyes. And still, those across from me laughed about something like that?
"And the worst part is, it was her fault!" I heard one of them laugh. That's when I lost it. I began sobbing into my sleeve as my buds finally managed to gather courage and ask what happened. When one of them saw what was going on, they started screaming at the other table. My other buds soothed me, and I watched as the other told them how serious this was. She only got in a little trouble for screaming. But they got detention for bullying. Or, that's how it ought have gone, when actually it was the other way around. Sad, isn't it?