I was inspired to write this piece when I read an article about the 9/11 attack. I was fascinated...
Show full author's note »
September 10, 2001
September 10, 2001 6:00 am
Cindy’s alarm clock went off at 6:00 am. She went into the bathroom and sluiced her face to rouse herself up. She took a ten minute shower and went to her closet. She slipped into dark blue skinny jeans and a violet blouse. She tiredly slipped on her black fuzzy boots and went into the kitchen to find her mom at the table with a mug of coffee. She placed a plate of two pancakes and a fork at the table. Cindy poured her desired amount of syrup. She sat down and began eating.
“The funeral is next Friday, Cindy. Are you going to go?” her mom asked.
“Well, if you don’t know, then you probably might not go,” her mom said taking the last sip of her coffee.
Cindy put down her fork with attitude. The fork made a loud bang on the table enough to startle anyone.
“What is that suppose to mean?” she snapped.
She heatedly got out of her chair and stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. Her grandmother’s death was a challenge for Cindy to face When she went into the hospital, she kept thinking of her dad. She loved him so much. She often thought that life would be easier if her dad was still alive. She began crying.
A voice came through the door. It was her mom. She opened the door. She walked to her crying daughter and enveloped her in her arms. She kept on muttering words like, “Hush now” and “Everything is alright”. Cindy didn’t know if she meant them or if her mom wanted her to calm down.
“I really want to go to the funeral, mom,” Cindy managed to say between tears.
Her mom gave a lengthy sigh and nodded.
“Okay. C’mon. You need to catch the bus for school,” she said.
Cindy’s mom walked out of the room. Cindy followed. She took her backpack and walked out the door to the bus stop. She didn’t continue without looking back at her house to see her mom standing at the window waving. And for the first time in a long time, ten years, Cindy waved back.
When Cindy got to school, she went to her locker and abandoned her backpack and coat and locked them happily inside. She strolled into her homeroom class and sat in her seat. The student took out a notebook and began drawing a picture of her dad. Sometimes it’s hard to remember what he looked like, Cindy thought.
Just then Chelsea and her new boyfriend, Logan Jameson, walked up to her.
“Hey!” she said cheerfully.
Logan just stared at her. His beady blue eyes pierced into Cindy’s. She had to look away. He was certainly charming, but undoubtedly was heartless. Cindy didn’t answer Chelsea.
“Hello? Are still alive? Or did someone give you a heart attack?!” she joked.
Cindy was suddenly angry. Her face was as red as a tomato. She stood up and assertively and harshly gave her reply.
“That’s not funny!” she said firmly.
Chelsea backed away and looked at her. One eyebrow raised.
“What’s your problem?!” she snapped.
Cindy walked toward her but was cut off by Logan.
“What is your problem?” he snapped.
Cindy could beat him up, and he knew it. Logan was on the football team, but that doesn’t mean he was strong. Logan was muscular, but he was gifted enough. Cindy stared at him fiercely. He began backing away also. Chelsea walked away and went to talk with Christy and Eve. Logan stayed firmly in his place. He just looked at her.
“Wow! Your eyes are purple!” he began laughing and pointing at her eyes.
Immature. Cindy thought. It is true that boys mature much later after girls. I mean, look at him and he is in high school! Just then the bell rang, and Cindy swiftly collected her belongings and headed to her next class, French. She caught up with Sara, a girl from her French class and the #1 nerd in school. Sara didn’t care what people thought of her. She just wanted good grades, attention, and 100% on everything. But, fortunately, she was super nice.
“Hey Sara!” Cindy said politely.
Sara looked at her.
“I am sorry what happened to your grandma. I read her death in the obituaries column,” she answered compassionately. “When my mom died, I was extremely distressed. My dad’s in prison, and I live with my Grandparents. They don’t understand me, though.” She paused. “When Mother’s Day rolls around, I always remember my mom. I can’t tell her “Happy Mother’s Day.” but I can remember how she cared for me. I always came to her for whatever problem I was facing.”
“What did she die from?” Cindy asked curiously.
Sara explained how her mom had died from lung cancer four years ago. Cindy responded by telling her that her father died from a car accident.
“I am so sorry!” Sara said sympathetically.
They sat down for French class and talked for five more minutes. Cindy thought Sara was going to cry, but she didn’t. Unexpectedly, the wall speaker talked.
“Sara Walden. Please come to the office.”
Sara anxiously rose from her seat and walked slowly out the door.