It was a regular April day, well as regular as it could get. Walking to my locker, number 213, I noticed that locker 212 didn’t have a bag in front of it, which was unusual. The first two periods of the morning went by slowly, time having seemed to stop. Classes flowed by, like water rushing through a river bed. My eyes widened as I observed nervous glances and quick, silent lips that moved rapidly between our teachers. 
The light of the morning was unbearable as I heard the sound of my mother in the kitchen, making herself a quick breakfast.
“Garrett! Are you ready for school yet?” She called up to me as I noticed the time.
“Yeah..” My voice cracked as I glanced at the blinking light on my phone.
“Well, let’s go then!” She impatiently called up, worsening my mood already. My eyes dilated as I burned with anger, frustration, and desperation.
“Just leave. I’ll  get a ride from someone, I promise.” I yelled back, the plan finally put into action.
The sun reached its highest point in the sky, along with the level of tension. The lunch bell rang, signaling a stampede of students down the hall towards the permeation of processed food. The freshmen oddly stayed behind today, as if the class seemed out of place. We walked to the lunchroom, ate our food in silence. It was eerily dead, the tension buzzing in the air like an annoying fly. All of us kids kept constant eyes on the teachers, who had suddenly got called to a meeting. The odd fact was that it was only the freshmen teachers.
The events of the night were fresh in his mind, that stupid blinking light a constant reminder. The sun would be reaching its highest in the sky, a perfect opportunity. The cold metal in his hands was a constant reminder of his emotions; they could all be gone in a single instant. That relief seemed so promising from this dreary life, the pain was too much to bare anymore. Kneeling before his bed, he grabbed his phone and sent his friend one last message. Then, everything went black for him, that bitter pain nothing but a memory.
That loud, annoying bell sounded, heading us towards our sixth period classes. I was headed to ninth grade science along with my best friend, sitting on opposite sides of the room as our teacher, Mrs. Byrne came in. She was in an odd, fake laughing mood, my mind telling me that something was off. Before she could even start class, the intercom squawked on, saying that all freshmen needed to go to the chapel, while grades 10-12 were to report to the high school gym. Everyone’s faces were tight and grim around me as we all got up. One word began to be whispered around like a plaque. “Garrett.”
Blood pooled into the carpet, the once warm body lifeless. Blood droplets were sprayed everywhere, the gun laid alongside his cold hand. A high pitched scream of terror and loss echoed as the gun once had. Her son was gone. Sobs escaped her as she slide down the wall, unable to look as tears blurred her vision. Shakily, she used her phone to dial the police, barely able to speak.
We sat down in the fourth row of chairs in the chapel, friends grouping together. A priest came in, dressed in fishing waders, and told us that he had canceled his fishing trip to come and be with us now, as if this news had ruined his whole day. Teachers surrounded us on all sides, sorrow evident in their eyes. Some people began to cry right away as he told us that Garrett had taken his own life this afternoon. I sat there motionless, unable to do anything, so powerless as I watched all of my strong classmates that I had grown up with cry. They gave us time to mourn, tissues passed along the rows, then we all got up as if we were one and walked to the gym where all the other students had been told about Garrett’s death.
The blue and red lights stained the daylight along with the may tears shed for Garrett. Ginger, Garrett’s mother, was surrounded by family and familiar faces, but none were the face that she wanted to see the most smiling at her. He was gone forever, never again to come home and smile at her, telling her that everything was okay. She was lost; she had nothing now.
Opening those gym doors and seeing everyone look at us in sorrow and sympathy was the final straw for me. The freshmen class all sat by the stage, facing the other students who were sitting on the extended bleachers. We all clenched tissues in our hands as Mrs. Nettleton told the other students to join us in our mourning. My older sister, Alexa, immediately came over to my side to comfort me as we all shed tears. That day, I could perceive that our school was one as we mourned Garrett. Mrs. Nettleton made us all say the Our Father together, but most of us freshmen were balling our eyes out too much.
They let us out from the gym to just wander around the school until 3:15, and I ended up in the library all by myself. I laid my head down into my arms on the table, unable to look around anymore. I cried quietly there for minutes, every breath I took like a dagger in my heart. The library door creaked open, and in came Mrs. Avery, our elementary and middle school principal. She sat down across from me, letting me blow my nose before speaking with me.
“I know things may seem so bleak and black, and I understand on some level how horrible you must feel. You have a right to hate the world and be so frustrated at why this had to happen. But you are all strong, and one day you’ll have to realize that yes, he took his own life, but that doesn’t mean you have to stop yours. Live on for him, keep him in your memories.”