What would you do, if you heard somebody very young was killed?

What would you do if you know his brother killed him?

What would you do if you knew that he lived in the town right next to yours...

...And went to your school.

How would you react, if you found out he was in your class?

That he spent his final hours in your midst.

Because you know what?


It happened to me.

I watched the news report yesterday. It was a developing story: "Teenage Stabbing. 15-year-old kills brother, 14."

I thought, no, that's too far out of the zone to be a kid in my school. I told myself it was sad, that it didn't involve me, no worries. Hours later, there's an update saying the 14-year-old passed away. Then later that night, a news report comes, naming his school. It was mine.

I thought, oh, well then tommorrow is going to be interesting.

This morning was the worst of my life.

Kids who knew him, or even dated him, came to class crying. The Dean came over the announcements, giving a speech and a moment of silence for the loss of two students. Then, two friends and I realize that we actually knew the victim. All day i prayed we were wrong. That it wasn't him. I was going to walk into sixth period, and I was going to see him sitting at his table, joking around, palying.

Instead, I saw the Guidance Counselors and the Crisis Team. And even later, the Dean himself. I watched his friends cry. I cried too. We all couldn't believe what had happened. Only few of us actually knew him, but all of us grieved.

Are we crazy?

I don't think so. It's a wierd feeling; knowing he won't be there. You won't hear his voice, or see his artwork. You'll never hear him laugh. Never see him smile.

Because he's really gone.