9/11 Descriptive Writing

Water. This is my first thought as I slowly manage to pull my eyes open and squint against the harsh sunlight streaming through my bedroom window. My mouth feels like I’m holding a cotton ball between my teeth and I blindly reach for a water bottle on my nightstand. As I bring the bottle to my lips I nearly cry out from the splitting pain that is coming from my head. I stumble to the bathroom in search of Advil and pause when I glance at my reflection. My hair is disheveled and I’m still wearing last night’s clothes. My eyes are bloodshot and mascara coats my under eyes, my lips dry and cracked. The events of the previous night play through my mind. The pounding music that makes my head hurt just thinking about it, the stuffy basement and a

room full of my peers makes my skin crawl. The most memorable part is the drinking. I can’t even begin to remember how much I had to drink, all I know is that I have no idea how I made it home. All my friends had been drinking as well. I checked my phone on my nightstand and saw I had quite a few texts from my friends. My blood ran cold as I read them all. Two kids, Peter and Sally, had been at the party had been too drunk to drive, yet they had anyway. Sally was in critical condition and Peter, her boyfriend, was not severely injured and was in trouble with the cops. I got ready for school in a daze and had trouble focusing on anything. I was not particularly close to Sally or Peter, but I was at that party and I felt connected to their accident somehow.

I didn’t know what to expect as I pulled into school, but what I saw was a shock.

Police cars lined the street, parents rushed into the school in large groups, and the students stood on the sidewalks with stricken expressions. I approached slowly, scanning the crowd for my friends. I rushed to them as soon as I found them and was immediately bombarded with information. Elliot’s wide brown eyes were filled with worry as she filled me in. “The parents are here because they heard of the crash that happened last night!”, she said, “They’re blaming all the kids at the party and want to press charges against us for underage drinking!” I scoffed at this and told her, “Hey, nothing will happen. Do you really think they have proof?” My other friend, Reece, shook her head slowly. “No Rach,” she said, “They do have proof. Remember the photo booth? We all took pictures on Peter’s phone. They can get those and frame us!” I looked at my two best friends who were scared out of their minds and I decided I would fix this. “Guys, calm down. Those pictures don’t show us drinking, they can’t do anything with them,” I said. Reece did not look convinced. “What about my scholarship? I can’t get in trouble or I’ll lose it. I think I should go and admit to it and maybe they’ll let me off easy,” she said. I gave her a sharp look. “Seriously Reece? You think that’ll actually work? It won’t, they will take your confession and treat you like Peter”, I said. Elliot had tears in her eyes and her lower

lip trembled. Her voice shook and and she spoke in a trembling voice, “What about Sally? Do we really want her to suffer and receive no justice for what happened? I think we should be honest and turn ourselves in, for her sake.” This filled me with exasperation and I responded to her in a harsh tone, “Elliot! Do you think Sally would do that for you? She wouldn’t! Why would we sacrifice ourselves for her? Both of you keep your mouths shut, it’ll blow over soon.”

We entered the school and it appeared that everything that took place outside between my friends and I was continuing inside.

Groups of teenagers huddled together and spoke in hushed tones, debating what to do. Teachers came into the hall and ushered us to class, emptying the halls. I sat in my first hour plotting what to do to save myself from punishment. Obviously I couldn’t delete the photos since they were already in possession of the police, but maybe I could create a different picture of that night to save myself. The principal, Mr. Downs, called an assembly immediately during morning announcements. People’s faces who were at the party drained of color and many left class and went home. Whispers floated through the hall during the seemingly long walk to the gym, “What do we do? Should we lie? Can we say we were not really

drinking?”.
The gym was packed with people and the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Principal Downs cleared his throat and began to speak slowly, “Some of the parents have called and are very upset about the party and the drinking that went on. Sally’s parents are especially upset and would like the school to conduct an investigation about the party. If people do not confess, we will have to punish accordingly based off of the knowledge we already have”. Mark, a senior who was at the party, rose up and shouted, “You cannot do that! You are not the law, we are not coming to school to be put on a trial for God’s sake!”. Murmurs of agreement were heard throughout the audience and one parent who was present stood up so quickly their chair flew backwards. “That is my daughter laying in that hospital bed! I will not have a bunch of arrogant, good for nothing partiers get off innocent!”, said the balding middle aged man. “Mr. Student!”, thundered Principal Downs, “Do not speak to these students that way, some have done nothing to deserve that”. Loud, hysterical laughter echoed off the gym walls as a middle aged woman with a stereotypical mom haircut stood next to her husband. “Principal Downs, I am sorry to burst your bubble but your students are not angels. I know for a fact that I could name at least 20 who were at the party!”, she said scornfully. She began to list names, “Amanda Green, Bryan Price, Henry Doe, Trinity Beck, Rachel Montgomery....”. She continued to list names but I tuned out after she said my name. More and more parents stood up and started shouting out names as well until it became a chaotic mess. The sheriff who had been sitting quietly in the back of the gym finally spoke up, shouting with a booming voice, “Quiet! Parents, do not worry. As a parent of a high schooler here myself I understand your concern. We will not let this go, we will make sure our children our safe and question everyone here!”.
Hours passed and countless students were escorted out of the building in handcuffs, half of whom had not been questioned themselves but had been ratted out by peers. Some of which I knew to be innocent were even accused and then I knew people were lying. Parents walked around the gym talking to students, using their words against them to arrest their friends a minute later. Finally, a boy who was going to be our valedictorian when we walked across the stage in a month, stood up and shouted, “Stop this madness! You are accusing innocent people!”. The sheriff responded with a gleam in his eye, “How do you know this? Were you at the party?”. Jacob bowed his head and nodded. “Yes,” he said, “I was there. I will admit to that, but stop accusing those who have done nothing wrong. I cannot let them take the fall for me and I hope the others who were at that party will speak up as well”. My best friends who sat beside me stood up and said, “We were there as well, please take us instead of those innocent.” I was fighting a turmoil inside, do I confess and save the others? Do I remain quiet and save myself? More and more juniors and seniors stood up and I reached a conclusion. I must not be selfish, I needed to confess and not let these innocent people take the blame for me. I stood up and stood shoulder to shoulder with my peers, facing my responsibility and the consequences for my actions. The sheriff nodded and signaled to his men. They came forward and began cuffing us, the icy metal cutting into my skin and I could see my future tarnished with this. Tears ran down my face, but I felt at peace with my choice. I could not live with myself if I did not stand together with my friends and acknowledge what I had done. “Take these and put them with the others, we will deal with them tomorrow. Let them sweat it out a night,” the sheriff said. Jacob swung around, eyes blazing in anger, “You cannot keep the others! They have done nothing!”. The sheriff smiled a smile that did not quite reach his eyes and said, “You forget, I have the power here. Whatever I say goes, and I say all who were accused are guilty.”
We were escorted to the jail and waited a night to hear our punishment. The innocent and the guilty received underage drinking and minor in possession charges despite our attempts to protect them. Sally recovered, but never walked the same again. She forgave us all, and even tried to get our charges dropped, although she failed. Peter served a year in prison for endangering a minor and being a minor in possession. I escaped that small town shortly after, the corrupt justice system and lies driving me away. That party still haunts me every day, and I have never touched a drop of liquor again.