August 16, 20XX
It’s just another day at school, the Center for Talented Youth in New York. It’s no big deal- everyone’s smart here in New York; hence the hefty amount of money that my parents and hundreds of other parents pay for their “gifted” child to go to this prestigious school. My parents are doctors who work at the hospital nearby. It’s no big deal paying the $40,000 tuition, given the amount that my parents earn every year, which is a combined $450,000 approximately.
“Hey Janice, what did you get for problem #4?,” Minerva, my best friend asks.
“29.3862,” I reply quickly with confidence. It seems like a moment ago since I did last night’s homework.
It’s about 1 in the afternoon, 1:03 to be exact, when I get a small buzz from my phone in my pocket during biology. It’s class time, but the buzz is quiet enough and the class is loud enough that nobody notices. I quickly take out my phone from my pocket and take a quick peek at what it is. Turns out it is breaking news from the New York Times. Since the class is so chaotic at the given moment, I take a look at what the news story is about. The news headline says, “MAN STORMS INTO XX HOSPITAL. 15 DEAD AND DOZENS WOUNDED. GUNMAN STILL ON THE LOOSE.”
No. This isn’t happening. I immediately recognize that as the 1st stage of grief- denial. That is the name of the hospital both of my parents work at. I hastily skim through the news story. Not much is in the story yet. I’m in shock. Words can’t describe how I feel right now.
The school’s P.A. system comes up, “Janice Mia, please report to the office immediately.”
My name. I’ve never been summoned to the office ever before. Thinking that I hadn’t broken any rules so far, I went down to the office with confidence.
When I reach the office, it seems like nothing is going on. No police officers, no S.W.A.T. teams, nothing. At least not for now. The principal comes over and invites me over to his office. Then he says, “Janice, your parents are dead.”
It’s a shock. I just sit there, trying to digest the five words that the principal had just said. I don’t know how to react to that news.
“Hey, I know it’s hard-”
“NO YOU HAVE NO IDEA.”
“Janice-”
“SHUT UP.” The 2nd stage of grief takes over me. Anger.
All of a sudden, I’m shuttled away into a patrol car. They probably deemed that I was either a hazard or a disturbance on campus. I don't know where I’m going. It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters other than my parents.
Maybe they are really still there. Maybe they were “dead.” 3rd stage of grief. No, I’m making stuff up. I need to connect to reality.
I arrive at the hospital. My parents already in body bags. The police don’t say anything. I guess they are really dead. I need to move on, sooner or later.
Acceptance.