I remember waking up on a frostbitten spring morning to the sound of my little sister crying upstairs. I groggily got out of bed to climb the two flights of stairs separating my room from the rest of my family’s. I reached the top to find my mom getting ready at the bathroom sink and my stepdad making coffee. I filled my coffee mug and descended back downstairs to start getting ready for the day. As I slipped into my jeans, I raked my mind for the things I needed for the day. I snatched my backpack off the floor and shoved my computer in it, quickly zipped it and swung it onto my back. I ran upstairs to refill my coffee mug, realizing my ride would be here in three minutes. Looking at the lack of choices in the cupboards, I decided a granola bar would have to suffice. As I went to get my shoes, my run downstairs turned into a falling downstairs onto my butt. I picked myself up and slid into a pair of flats and ran out the door to be met with Jack Frost himself; only then did I remember my sweatshirt that was sitting on my kitchen counter.

My friend Stephany and I pulled into the school parking lot to see a handful of spots left. Pulling the car into what seemed like the last spot, I jumped out and did my best fast paced mom-walk into school. My attempts to be on time were given a reality check as I entered an empty locker bank as the announcements filled my ears along with the halls. I opened the door to my introduction to physics class six minutes late to be greeted by empty stares from my peers. I plopped my tardy slip down on the teacher's desk and proceeded to my own. The class seemed to drag on forever and there was an argument between my teacher and a student about why we needed to know the formula to find the velocity of an object. I layed my head down and at some point and dozed off. My nap was interrupted by the dismissal bell and I grabbed my backpack and threw it onto my back. I met my friends in the locker bank and we laughed about the marks that were left on my face from laying on my sleeves for too long. The time we spent laughing filled up the short passing time we had. The familiar bell rang to remind us that we were still in school and that we still had class.

I got to second period on time and made my way to my seat, sitting next to a hockey player named Sarah. Our conversations tended to consist of the assignments we were getting and what grade we got on the last test. However, when I sat down, she leaned in and asked, “Did you hear what happened this morning?” Attempting to wipe the nap lines from my face, I told her I had no idea what was going on. Sarah proceeded to tell me that there was a car on fire on the parking lot. By the time she finished telling me this, half of the class was giggling about the ridiculousness of the story, along with the teacher, Mr. Tikalsky. The class settled down and we began our lecture about monogamy and the definitions of relationships. About five minutes before class ended, there were two distinct beeps that came over the speakers. The first crack of our principal’s voice indicated how the rest of the announcement was going to proceed. Some student shouted from the back of the class that he was announcing the burning car and the entire class started giggling. I picked my phone up to scroll through instagram, thinking these announcements would be nothing serious. Suddenly everything went in slow motion. “We are sorry to announce that Taylor L. was in a serious car accident this morning, and he passed away…”
There was something else muttered about counselor and school support for students who needed it. I dropped my phone on my desk and looked to see one of Taylor’s friends with his hands to his face, concentrating on the wall just to hold back the tears that were welling up in his throat. Another one of Taylor’s friends looked as if he was an empty bottle that had been abandoned, as if one touch could break him. The class sat in silence with the occasional background noise of stiff sniffles from classmates. As I looked around, the lump in my throat started to swell and my palms became very sweaty. I wanted to get up and run away from everything, but my mind paralyzed me with the thoughts of Taylor’s death. The bell indicating class was over, forced me to start walking out into the loud hallways, I found myself hearing every step I took. Every step I took sparked a different memory with Taylor and his family.

I took my phone out of my back pocket and immediately texted my mom to tell her the news. Our parents are good friends and have been ever since Haylie, his sister, and I started Girl Scouts together 7 years ago. Her response was disbelief and questions about what happened and at what time and what was said and how was I doing. I didn’t respond and I slid my phone in my backpack for the rest of the day. I had a test next hour that I ended up failing. An art project was due the hour after that; I went to class and stared at the uncompleted project until the bell rang. The rest of day was a complete blur, but somehow I remember refusing to talk to anybody. The day finally ended and I started to leave the tear streaked hallways from the day’s events.
Thinking back to the start of my day to what had happened in less than 24 hours, I became overwhelmingly sad. This morning I was worried about a test in 6th period, now death was the only thing that consumed my mind. I went home and the comforting sight of my unmade bed welcomed me in for the next six hours where my pillow became a home for the escaped tears I shed. Suddenly I was hit with the ultimate moment it hurt; I sank into the feeling that my nightmares have become a reality and I couldn’t do anything about it.