It is amazing--in a sickening, pathetic way--how quickly people move on with their lives

after a tragedy has occurred. Since he left this world and went to heaven, every day I go to

school is an agonizing experience as I witness the nonchalant attitude of the other students.

The day the principal gave us the heartbreaking news over the loudspeaker, all the girls in

homeroom were sobbing and clasping their tear-stained faces. Some of them even had to

get up and leave the room, because they were so overwhelmed with shock and grief. "He

was so nice," a couple of them said. "I just had the funniest conversation with him last

Friday," another said. A few of the boys even had a tear or two in their eyes. "He was a

stand-up guy," they said. "He always had my back."

     But now a week later, everyone at school smiles and laughs as though nothing

irreparable has happened. It's as though someone just fell down and sprained his ankle, or

one of the jocks got injured on the football field. I walk past the cafeteria tables, and all I see

are kids joking around and flirting. Everything has gone right back to normal, just like that.

All those girls who were crying are now too wrapped up in their own lives to give him a

moment's thought. They chatter in the girls' bathroom about things like what color gown

they will wear to the prom or whether they should wear their hair up or down. The boys

chase each other in the hallway, get into fights, and then laugh hysterically after getting hit

with detention.

     As I observe all of this, I scream within myself, because that poor dead boy is probably

aching to be remembered and to be missed. He is probably wondering why no one is telling

sentimental stories about him during a tearful lunch period, or even stories that made them

laugh. Or why don't the students want to get together and do something for him in his

memory, to pay tribute to him? I have mentioned that idea to a number of students, but

they either ignore me or they change the subject. Their laughter is not the wistful, nostalgic

laughter of students trying to keep the memory of their murdered friend alive. They are all

just laughing for stupid, typical, every day high school reasons. None of that laughter is

attached to him and to the positive impact that he had on everyone.

     I hate those phonies. Seven days. Is that all the time it takes to muddle through shock

and grief after losing one of your own?

     I wouldn't be surprised if one of them is his murderer. I am going to find out, somehow,

because I'll be damned if I let that son of a bitch get away with it.