“We can’t just let this be normal!” I exclaim to one of my friends. The discussion of gun control lacing the air with tension. “I mean, these things shouldn’t have to have a death count for us to talk about them.” I screech, drawing the attention of neighboring tables, as I push myself to my feet. My friends eyes dart around the room landing on those staring at us with rather quizzical looks. I sigh, and sit back down quietly, worried that a teacher will lecture me on disturbing the peace.
“I know, I know.” My friend replies quitely, eyes still darting around. “Believe me I get it.” I gaze at her eyes and find they mirror the conflict in mine. Sighing, I glance over my shoulder, there’s no teacher in sight, only a few students huddled around the tables. Turning back, I see she’s begun to run a hand through her long raven hair. The discussion of the recent shooting at Kentucky school has begun to wear us thin.
“I’m just so tired of this,” I grumble, pushing away my math book to tap my pencil against the table. “Thoughts and prayers, thoughts and prayers.” I cry, making my voice as sickly sweet as possible.
“Thoughts and prayers don’t to a damn thing, how about some freakin’ legislation?” My friend snaps, from behind her hands. Had this been any other conversation I might have had to stifle a laugh at the serious tone emanating from the small emo girl, with her face buried in her hands. There’s just something utterly ridiculous in how she can be so serious, when talking from behind her hands. I smirk a bit and shake my head, trying to draw myself back into our serious conversation.
“Have you seen the current administration?” I inquire, raising an eyebrow at her, “I don’t think we’re getting legislation anytime soon.” She peeks out from behind her hands and chuckles a bit at my remark.
“I suppose you’re right.” She grumbles, “Still can’t I dream?”
“Again I am pressed to remind you of our current government.” I reply. She chuckles again, and reaches out to lightly hit my wrist. I let her, giving her a look of mock hurt.
“It’s just so stupid!” She exclaims, “We have these shootings all the time, and the only response we get is ‘thoughts and prayers,’ or ‘we need more guns.’ What makes people think more guns would solve this?”
“Didn’t you ever have to go to those fire assemblies?” I tease, “It’s like they say, ‘The only way to combat a forest fire is with a flamethrower.’”
“No! That is a horrible idea!” she exclaims, drawing more looks as she throws her arms up in the air. It’s my turn to chuckle this time, as she notices the attention she’s drawn to us. I grin, and shake my head.
“Shouldn’t we be working on math?” I inquire.
She shrugs, “Yeah probably.”
I nod and begin to turn my attention back towards my math book when my phone buzzes. Curious I pick it up off the table, hissing at the news alert that flashes across the screen. My friend looks up worried as, I toss my phone back onto the table and begin to shake my head. A sort of knowing look comes into her eyes. Still, she turns to me.
“What is it?” She asks, the worry lacing her voice, more from what she knows it will be, than any actual doubt or concern as to what’s happened. I don’t answer instead I just toss the phone towards her. She picks it up tentatively, before tossing it back onto the table and shaking her head. Still feeling the need to do something, I pick the phone back up and read the headline.
“School Shooting at Douglas Memorial High School, Parkland Fla. Estimated 20 Casualties.” I finish reading it, and look up locking eyes with my friend. Our conversation on one shooting halted by the news of another.
“I know, I know.” My friend replies quitely, eyes still darting around. “Believe me I get it.” I gaze at her eyes and find they mirror the conflict in mine. Sighing, I glance over my shoulder, there’s no teacher in sight, only a few students huddled around the tables. Turning back, I see she’s begun to run a hand through her long raven hair. The discussion of the recent shooting at Kentucky school has begun to wear us thin.
“I’m just so tired of this,” I grumble, pushing away my math book to tap my pencil against the table. “Thoughts and prayers, thoughts and prayers.” I cry, making my voice as sickly sweet as possible.
“Thoughts and prayers don’t to a damn thing, how about some freakin’ legislation?” My friend snaps, from behind her hands. Had this been any other conversation I might have had to stifle a laugh at the serious tone emanating from the small emo girl, with her face buried in her hands. There’s just something utterly ridiculous in how she can be so serious, when talking from behind her hands. I smirk a bit and shake my head, trying to draw myself back into our serious conversation.
“Have you seen the current administration?” I inquire, raising an eyebrow at her, “I don’t think we’re getting legislation anytime soon.” She peeks out from behind her hands and chuckles a bit at my remark.
“I suppose you’re right.” She grumbles, “Still can’t I dream?”
“Again I am pressed to remind you of our current government.” I reply. She chuckles again, and reaches out to lightly hit my wrist. I let her, giving her a look of mock hurt.
“It’s just so stupid!” She exclaims, “We have these shootings all the time, and the only response we get is ‘thoughts and prayers,’ or ‘we need more guns.’ What makes people think more guns would solve this?”
“Didn’t you ever have to go to those fire assemblies?” I tease, “It’s like they say, ‘The only way to combat a forest fire is with a flamethrower.’”
“No! That is a horrible idea!” she exclaims, drawing more looks as she throws her arms up in the air. It’s my turn to chuckle this time, as she notices the attention she’s drawn to us. I grin, and shake my head.
“Shouldn’t we be working on math?” I inquire.
She shrugs, “Yeah probably.”
I nod and begin to turn my attention back towards my math book when my phone buzzes. Curious I pick it up off the table, hissing at the news alert that flashes across the screen. My friend looks up worried as, I toss my phone back onto the table and begin to shake my head. A sort of knowing look comes into her eyes. Still, she turns to me.
“What is it?” She asks, the worry lacing her voice, more from what she knows it will be, than any actual doubt or concern as to what’s happened. I don’t answer instead I just toss the phone towards her. She picks it up tentatively, before tossing it back onto the table and shaking her head. Still feeling the need to do something, I pick the phone back up and read the headline.
“School Shooting at Douglas Memorial High School, Parkland Fla. Estimated 20 Casualties.” I finish reading it, and look up locking eyes with my friend. Our conversation on one shooting halted by the news of another.
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ChristianBolding
Feb 26, 2018
"...worried that a teacher will lecture me on disturbing the peace." This line really stands out and exemplifies the situation American students are in. We've been taught to fear our own voices and have therefore forgotten how to use the democracy that we are guaranteed. This piece is really well done; its voice is that of a student's, and its outrage, too. Keep writing!