After the Death of Anna Gonzales (9781466859524) (4 page)

But there's still tonight or tomorrow or ten years from now.

Sometimes, I'm afraid I could be

   Another Anna.

So, until I'm sure I believe it,

I'll say it 20 or 20,000 times.

I don't have to be Someone

To be someone special.

I don't have to live the dream

To believe in the future of my dreams.

Lanny Laring

A suicide.

Different.

A quick look around the room.

No one knows quite what to do.

For once, even Old Mason is silent.

Alexis looks like she's going to pass out.

Lynn looks almost mad.

Everyone's avoiding eye contact.

Except Aaron, of course,

He can't wait to earn another A today.

A suicide.

What's my slant?

Life's all about seeing the slants, analyzing the angles.

And it's so easy to play the part of winner.

Like the time I “accidentally” ran into Damon.

   As planned, it bruised his knee pretty badly.

   Greg got into the game,

   And I got ten bucks richer.

Or like the time I found Lauren's missing bracelet,

   She kissed me and called me super.

   How could she ever know how easily I had stolen it?

So what's the angle in this suicide?

Showtime.

Another victory waits.

Michelle Magden

Every time my father sees me frown,

He says,

“Are you upset?

   You know you can talk to me.”

Every time my father hears me mad at my friends,

He says,

“Are you lonely?

   You know you can talk to me.”

Every time my father thinks I'm sad,

He says,

“Are you depressed?

   You know you can talk to me.”

Ever since my father got custody,

He's been reading books about parenting.

When he read that one in three teens thinks of suicide,

My father made me repeat,

“Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”

I've told him,

   “Dad,

     Sometimes, I get irritated or angry.

     Sometimes, I feel stupid or sad.

     Sometimes, I feel left out or lonely.

   But I am not,

     have never been,

       will never be

         Suicidal!”

Still, I cannot convince my dad.

Once he hears about Anna,

He'll never let me out of his sight.

His anxiety will destroy

The little bit of social life I have.

“I don't know why Anna didn't know,

But, Dad, I do …

Really, I do understand

   That ‘suicide is a permanent solution

   To a temporary problem.'”

Jeff Cook

So my dad is sitting in the stands

When I score another basket.

And he hears this father tell his son,

   “Do you know that guy?”

And the kid answers,

   “Sure, everyone knows Jeff.

   He's only about the most popular person in the whole school.

   He's in everything, does everything, is everything.”

And the dad says,

   “Well, that could be you when you're a senior.”

And the kid rolls his eyes and answers,

   “Get real, Dad!”

My father can't wait to come home and tell me all this.

His chest is puffed out with pride

As he says, “How about that!”

I figure it's probably not the best time to inform him

That I do know everyone

And no one …

And a lot of the time,

What I really feel

Is alone.

Ms. Standring, Attendance Secretary

“It wasn't my fault.”

They should inscribe those words above this office door.

Then all the kids that come through it could just point.

Today's troops,

Most of them tardy or in trouble,

Wait unwillingly to see

Whether they'll get off

With only a warning from me

Or hit the big time and

Earn a detention from the dean.

But this day,

They'll all have to wait a little longer.

For as I hear them

   Joking,

     Flirting,

       Complaining,

         Cajoling,

I cannot stop imagining the silent forever that

Anna Gonzales has chosen.

“It wasn't my fault.”

I know I'll hear that a hundred times today,

And I'll explain that—“Yes, it is your fault”—

Just as many times.

Life can be messy.

No doubt, a lot of these kids are living proof.

But in spite of their anxieties and their angers,

At least —

   They

     Are trying to live.

Jermaine Clements

Bomp … bada … bomp.

Bomp … bomp … bada … bomp.

This song has the beat

That makes my whole body move.

But I've got to stay still.

No Walkmen

No CD players

No headphones

Allowed in this school.

I should know.

I've had enough of them confiscated.

But this earphone redefines miniature.

And the CD's so small, it slips unseen inside a pocket.

If I just sit staring at my teachers,

They'll never know

That I've tuned out their teaching tortures

With music that makes school rock.

Bomp … bomp … bada … bomp.

No doubt about it.

Technology is improving my education.

Julio Contraros

So many times have our families come together.

But Anna never seemed sad.

So many times when
mi madre
was uncertain of this new country

Was Anna's mother there to help us.

To translate until English we learned.

To explain so many customs new and strange.

I will go to
la casa de Gonzales
after this day of school.

But I do not know words in any language to help.

My heart cries for Anna

And for

Her mother

The friend and protector to us all.

Too late it is to help Anna.

And Señora Gonzales

Who can protect her

In this terrible tragedy?

Hay también mucha tristeza.

It is too much sadness.

Leslie Leiberman

Forget about that Biology X and Y stuff

About what makes a boy or a girl.

It's really much simpler.

Guys all have the jerk gene.

It's like God says, “Oh, that one gets a jerk gene; so it's a boy.”

Like Sean Saunders.

After I baked him two batches of double-fudge brownies.

After I offered to watch his dog when his family went away for the weekend.

After I did his algebra because he was too tired from basketball.

Finally, this morning, right before the bell, he wants to ask me something,

My heart pounds, and I think this is it.

He's finally going to ask me to Homecoming.

But then the bell rings. He gets nervous and says, “Maybe later.”

I worry that later may never happen,

So I practically shout, “Now … I mean I can afford the tardy.”

He says, “You sure?”

And I say, “I'm sure … just ask…”

So he says, “Okay, do you know Kendra well enough to find out

If she'll go to Homecoming with me?”

And so now I've got this tardy.

And now I've got no date for Homecoming.

Fact: Guys are filled with jerk genes.

Fact: Sean Saunders has more than his share.

Sean Saunders

In Advanced Art, I made an A+ clay mask.

Perfect in its features, it revealed

   Interestingly shaped empty eyes

   A flawlessly impossible porcelain complexion

   And a mouth that exposed neither a smile nor a frown.

Holding my creation in front of me,

I look out from behind its cold indifference

Feeling no more anonymous than

The usual face I wear.

Each day, I carefully apply another

Mask to hide the mask

That almost worked

The day before.

Masked behind masks that mask

Anything that is real.

This is the only way a teenager

Survives the hell called

High school.

Anna, did your disguise slip

Or was it just that your eyes could

No longer find insight

Buried

Behind so many masks?

Kinderlyn Hovoticich

Anna …

I remember …

   My first day of school in America.

   Labeled a resettled refugee,

   Lost in this upside-down place,

   Students swirling by—talking a language that made no sense.

   Me—huddling in a hallway

   Feeling almost as anxious

   As when I heard the sounds

   Of bombs in my other world.

   No one seemed to notice

   But you, Anna.

   Using signs and smiles,

   You made sure I got to my classes.

   Showed me how lunch worked,

   How to open a jammed locker.

   You taught me how to smile and

   How to survive in junior high.

You were my first American friend.

I didn't mean to ignore you when we got to high school.

I really liked the badminton team I joined.

And it seemed so easy to sit at their lunch table,

Get in on their gossip, and be part of their parties.

So I told myself you had a lot of other friends.

I was the one who had been different.

And now it was probably a relief that

The “foreign kid” didn't need babysitting anymore.

But if I look deep enough inside myself,

I wonder if I'll find out that was a lie.

And I have no answer for

How could I have forgotten how

You once solved my fears

Before you even knew my name.

Maybe my lack of loyalty doesn't matter at all.

Maybe it had nothing to do with what you did.

But maybe if …

   Oh, Anna …

Jordan Smythe

Once I had this jigsaw puzzle.

I worked on it every day.

It was the hardest thing I'd ever done,

But I finally got it all finished

Except for one piece,

Which was missing.

I looked for it everywhere,

Under my bed, behind the table, in the closet,

But the piece was just gone.

Pretty soon, when I looked at the puzzle

All I could see

Was the missing piece.

So I threw the whole thing away.