Sweet Dreams, Hannah

They say that it takes one unbelievable action to gain the worlds attention.

To have all eyes on you.

This is what Zachary Weston did.

Let me take you back to that day.

It was a normal Friday morning. Students were just beginning to arrive to class. Some were already in their seats, discussing their weekend plans. I was of course, drawing in my sketchbook. I could overhear the other students discussing parties, ‘getting drunk’, and other topics of the sort; which I’d rather not describe to you. However, when the morning announcements boomed over the intercom, everyone sat down and silenced. I smiled down at the eagle I was drawing, outlining it’s beak with a yellow marker. Some jock guys were throwing paper at each other in the back of the room.

Turning around to briefly assess them, I rolled my eyes and resumed drawing. In the center of the group was Charlie Brandt, the yes, you guess it, captain of the football team. Does it not sound horribly cliché? It reminds me of those romance novels, where the captain of the football team is king of the school. That’s who Charlie is, or rather, who he wants everyone to think he is. Yawning, I rubbed my eyes. ‘Only six more hours of this hell, then I am home free.’ I sighed and set down my pencil as the announcements stopped, waiting for the bell to ring.

But the sound of the bell ringing was washed out by tires screeching on the road out the window. Every eye in the room was fixed upon the car. It took me a second to locate the cause of the screeching, but my eyes soon fell upon the car as it headed straight for a tree. A collective gasp ensued, and some students screamed “Oh my gosh!”. My hands went cold and clammy as I rushed to the windows, following everyone else. I scanned the street, looking for the crash site. Smoke rose to the sky, and I followed it back down to earth with my eyes. The car, which was a black sedan, rammed head on into a big oak tree, right next to the school. Upon further inspection, I soon realized that I knew who’s car that was.

I knew who was in that car.

That meant, who I knew was in that car could be dea-….

My hands covered my mouth as tears streamed down my cheeks. Other students took notice to my reaction, and then someone shouted “That’s Weston’s car!”.
Weston. Zachary Weston. The shy kid who sits behind me in English class. Who always taps my shoulder, handing me little folded up pieces of paper. Upon opening them, I always find a perfectly drawn circle.

“What does this mean?” I would turn around and whisper to him. He just smiles and shrugs, not saying a word. His eyes then focus on Mrs. Lightwood, as she rambles on about Shakespeare.
I kept every one of those perfectly drawn circles, storing them in the side pouch of my backpack. Which, I am always made fun of for. “You’re a senior. They don’t carry backpacks…We carry messenger bags.” the preppy group of girls would snap at me.

I could only watch helplessly as the car began sparking, soon followed by flames. They began licking at his car, getting bigger by the minute. At this, everyone ran out of the classroom, no doubt headed for the crash site. I followed, walking slowly down the hallway. Thoughts of how I should of tried to befriend him slammed into my head. The sound of someone also being slammed into a locker was audible. I soon realized that it was my imagination, re-enacting something that happened last week.
“You dumb faggot, why don’t you go and take it up the ass some more.”

Charlie shoved Zachary into a locker, and he fell to the ground, holding onto his arm. “Please, just stop…” Zachary spoke, his lip bleeding from being punched. I walked down the hallway at this exact moment. Hearing my footsteps, Zach raised his head, and his deep green eyes found mine. I stopped in my tracks, debating whether or not to do something. I just kept walking, slowly, not wanting to get involved; and I could feel his eyes on my back the entire time. Charlie laughed. “See? No one cares about you enough to stop me, so what does it matter?” he spat.

Tears poured down my cheeks as I remembered this incident. If Zachary was dead, I would blame myself forever. ‘Damn you, Hannah, you should have done something. Would have given the poor guy some hope that someone cares…’ I cursed myself. Pushing open the heavy doors , I stepped out into the sunlight. Shielding my eyes against the vibrant sun with my hand, I squinted up at the sky. It was a deep blue; not a cloud in sight. “How appropriate….” I muttered sarcastically. I sought out the location of the crash, and students were already crying. Indeed, it was Zachary’s car. I bit my lip to keep from sobbing, watching as the paramedics tried to pull him from out of the wreckage.

Many students were hugging each other and crying, asking an unidentifiable being ‘why?!’; while some were just staring with shocked expressions painted upon their faces. I did not understand how this could happen. The EMT personnel asked everyone to step back as the firemen blasted the car with water, to kill the fire. When they finally pulled Zachary from the wreckage, I gasped. He looked like a child’s toy, broken beyond repair.

“We’ve got an unresponsive. Non-breather. No pulse.” a man stated as they loaded him onto a gurney.

This day was the turning point of my life. I was unaware that from then on, I would never be the same person.

Ever again.

This is my story.