Two girls sitting parallel to me were heavily engaged in their conversation with each other. I really did not start to pay any attention to them until I caught, “Did you hear about the horrible news?” from one of them. Eavesdropping is not a hobby of mine, but I could not help but to listen in. The girl’s friend continued, “Yeah, some junior – Shad L. or something – died last night.” At that moment, my heart sank. Shad was a classmate of mine. We had sixth period together. In the previous year, we had fifth period together. I literally saw her the day before. We even ate lunch at the same table last semester. I could not believe it. I refused to believe it. There was absolutely no way that her death was true. Surely those two girls were telling a very sick joke. 
I did not have time to ponder about the rumor any longer. It was time for all of us to go to class. First period began, meaning it was time for the morning announcements. I cannot recall another point in my life where I wanted nothing more but to see the usual, boring announcements that everyone spaced out in. Unfortunately my wish was not granted. Instead my biggest fear was confirmed. On the fifteenth of August she collapsed during routine track practice, was rushed to the nearest hospital, and was unable to be revived. 
The feelings I had that day are hard to describe. I had not really dealt with death before. I was not even particularly close to her, but the fact that one day I saw her smiling face, seemingly enjoying every minute of life, and the fact that the next day she was gone really had a big effect on me. For the remainder of that day, I could not look anyone in the eye for I feared I would break out into tears on sight. Seeing anyone smile that day caused an intense anger inside of me. Did they not have any respect? How could anyone smile at a time like this? I was in no way ready for news of that magnitude. My personality suddenly was unstable.
I certainly was not the only person suffering from the news. At least two teachers of mine showed emotions that I did not think were capable – at least not from them. My second period teacher was a cool and calm person. She always kept her feelings to herself and never deviated from whatever plan she had set for any given day. But on the sixteenth, she became a nervous wreck. When it was time for me to go to her class, tears were still flowing down her cheek. Only after my fellow classmates made efforts to calm her down did she regain her composure. 
