After the Death of Anna Gonzales (9781466859524) (2 page)

Who always does just what adults expect.

Referred to as

   Responsible.

     Obedient.

       Boring.

   Until today.

When I took the checkered flag.

And left behind Mom and Dad's

Lists of “notes for when we're out of town.”

Which, by the way, never actually said,

“You cannot take Dad's new Corvette!”

Now, as I sit through these never-ending announcements,

I can still feel my hands gripping the wheel.

My foot flooring the gas.

I'll be free again at three,

To ease back into the soft black leather seats

And downshift into the winds of

   Unpredictable.

     Incompliant.

       Exciting.

Wonder if I should offer Lynn a ride?

Lauren Reynolds

Since September,

I sat one seat behind Anna in algebra.

Passed papers to her every day.

Studied for tons of tests together.

Though it often seemed impossible,

Eventually,

We always found the unknown for
X.

But not this time.

This equation

Bounces against my brain.

And sneers at all attempted answers.

I know I'll re-examine the variables,

And reanalyze the unknowns, maybe forever.

But

It won't matter.

Because, Anna—

I know I'll never figure out
Y.

Y
you didn't want to live—

And
Y
I never noticed.

Debbie Hill

We agreed.

Together, all ten.

We'd stand in a line,

And on the downbeat we all kick at exactly the same height.

But not Emily.

She always makes sure her leg lifts a little higher than mine.

Does she think I don't notice?

She says she just doesn't know why

Her sweater fits so perfectly,

And wonders why mine looks a little baggy.

The answer is easy.

She shrank hers until it became a second skin.

She thinks she's flashy.

I think she's trashy.

She does her high kicks for Darrith.

Let her.

I don't dance for him or anyone else.

Music just makes me want to move.

The downbeat begins,

And the adrenaline rushes.

The crowd becomes a blur.

   Oops, the announcements ended.

So how come everyone's just sitting here so quietly?

It's only English.

Boring, but

It's not like somebody died or anything.

Darrith Evans

I can picture it all now:

Anna Gonzales, I never knew you.

Although you were probably in the stands

Watching me play.

I'm sorry you took your life.

But I can't get it back for you.

So you might as well help me.

See, I just cannot make Coach understand

That unlike most

Of the guys on our team

I don't need all these practice sessions.

I always come through in the games.

So why can't Coach just let me be?

Andrea Brensk

In seventh-hour Spanish,

Anna Gonzales sat in the second row, second seat.

How do I know?

Every day, I wished I could trade places with her.

Spanish is the only class I have with Chad Alexander.

That most gorgeous and very shy guy.

I don't think Anna ever noticed him.

Even though in group work

   She always got paired with Chad.

Me—

I'm stuck on the other side of the room.

   With god-awful Greg Mendez.

   And his ox-snorting laugh.

So I'm wondering if today is too soon

To ask Ms. Alvarez if I could switch seats.

I mean …

I don't want anyone to think I'm insensitive.

But I don't want to miss the moment.

And have someone else sneak into the seat that should be mine.

I know that I could find the right language

For me and Chad.

If I could just improve our geography.

Chad Alexander

   Anna Gonzales …

There's an Anna in my Spanish class.

A million times we said
“¿Cómo te llamas?”

But we never answered with last names.

Still, somehow I think it might be her.

   Suicide …

Anna seemed normal enough,

But how much can you know

When working together to conjugate

The present tense of
hablar?

If it is the same Anna, her seat's gonna be empty.

Not just absent empty—but forever empty.

Weird.

   Very weird.

     Too weird.

Maybe Mark could move into that seat.

Then we could do Spanish skits about baseball.

“Uno, dos, tres
strikes and you
vamos
from the old ball game.”

It would make seventh hour
más bueno.

Otherwise, this girl Andrea may try to move there.

Fourteen of her friends have told me she likes me

A lot.

She sits in the back of the room, but she's always

Giggling and staring at me.

I pretend not to notice.

She'd be better off with Greg.

Geeks like those two

Really should stick together.

   Actually, I hope …

Anna will be in her seat seventh hour

And life will go on, just like it's supposed to.

Mitch S. Foster

I guess Anna didn't find out that you could opt out

Without really leaving.

I did

   A long time ago.

The rest of my family is the roaring center of success.

And the model for superstress.

My dad is the proud owner of four fine classic cars,

Which no one ever drives.

In number, they match his four heart attacks.

My mom is #1 in sales

Again.

And my older sister's straight A's are delivered

As expected.

My family feels that

The entrance to our house is

The driveway to the top.

BELIEVE!

ACHIEVE!

 

And I—

Realizing I could never compete on any other level—

Have become their number one failure.

Actually, I'm very good at doing nothing.

And so, declaring my own sort of victory,

I long ago opted out of their high-stakes game.

Andy Gotchalder

Get out our homework?

You gotta be kidding, Mrs. Johnson!

How can we just go over algebra

Like nothin' happened or anything.

Shouldn't we be like … I don't know,

Shouldn't we be quiet or something this hour?

Yeah, well, I am a sensitive guy,

I just get a bad rap.

Maybe we could put on music and think …

You know …

I've got a good CD.

What?

   Turn in our homework and then we can

   Have time to reflect?

My homework?

   Well, I don't have it.

Where is it?

   Actually, I didn't do it.

Why not?

   Ah, come on, Mrs. Johnson, you know, last night was Thursday.

   And that's way too close to the weekend for homework.

Mrs. Johnson, Algebra Teacher

Too many papers.

Too many meetings.

Too many students.

But I do try to reach them all.

In the limited time I have.

Yes, they sit in rows.

Yes, they figure numbers.

Yes, they fill in No. 2 pencil tests.

But it is the sum of who they are

That matters to me.

Haven't I shown them that?

Not well enough, I guess,

For poor Anna Gonzales is dead.

The class seems stunned.

Staring now at me

As if I should know an answer for

All of this.

And the only answer I know is

That no child should give up on life.

Math deals in absolutes.

But life is the most absolute of all.

John Morgan

It wasn't me that said, “Come on over tonight.”

It wasn't me that said, “My parents aren't home.”

And it wasn't me that said, “Want a beer?”

I mean I wasn't complaining,

But it wasn't me suggesting the horizontal communication,

If you know what I mean.

Hey, I don't mind being Kimmy's boy toy.

I'd be first to say that last night was a sweet gig.

But what's up with Sharlee this morning

Calling me a disgusting pig?

On account of what Kimmy told her.

Today,

I think maybe me and Kimmy better have

A little better vertical communication.

Sharlee Williams

Anna Gonzales—not sure I knew her.

But maybe she was motivated by a “best friend” like Kimmy.

Kimmy, who knew my every secret and insecurity,

Kimmy, who plotted with me for weeks

About the blow-out party we'd have

The minute her parents left town.

We counted the hours

Until our popularity plan.

So was the party a success?

No way.

At least not for me.

Her parents were barely out the door, before

Kimmy told me to get lost because (giggle)

John was coming over.

And the party had been downsized to two.

Dismissed just that fast,

I stayed home.

Feeling stupid and depressed

That my feelings meant nothing

To Kimmy.

I cried a lot and thought even more.

Then I redefined the word “friendship.”

And this morning,

When I got to school,

I worked on a little revenge.

Kimmy Nelson

“She took her own life.”

Is that what Mr. Barron said?

I was only half listening.

But I'm pretty sure I heard

“She took her own life.”

Those were the words.

Inserted right near the end

Of our usually boring morning announcements.

Suicide.

Awful.

Really awful.

I'm so glad I've got a friend like Sharlee

And maybe even a boyfriend in John.

It would be awful to feel as alone as

Anna.

Carrie Sells

I keep trying to wrap my arms

Around my world

So that I can get some control over it.

I've tried to make the circle large enough

For my second stepdad, who taught me how to play baseball,

And my mom's new husband, who really wants us to be a family.

For my dad's ex-girlfriend, who taught me to make ice-cream pie,

And my dad's third wife, who was kind of like a sister

When I stayed with them.

I suppose I'm lucky.

Everyone wants to be in my world.

Eighth-grade graduation was only for immediate family,

And I needed sixteen tickets.

But I'm always in the role of peacemaker.

“Can't you all play nicely?”

I want to shout.

Still, it seems that no matter how large I make my circle

No one's ever happy.

Sometimes, when everyone is shouting at everyone,

And everyone expects me to make it right,

I think about killing myself,

Leaving a letter

That says to each one of these

“Grown-ups” who say they care so much,

“You can keep one little part of me.

   Put it on a shelf.

     Hang it on a wall.

That part will be yours forever,

And no one will have to fight anymore.”

But then I decide I don't want to die.

I haven't really even had my

Chance

To live.

So I just keep trying to make my arms grow,

Hoping that someday

I can put them around my world enough

To get control of it.

Eric Sueffert

If I could,

I would.

But I can't sneak out of this class right now.

So I'll have to wait.

Fifty more minutes for freedom,

Before I'm down the back staircase

And outta here.

I've got to get to Anna's house

In time to beat the rest of the media

That's bound to come.

Tonight, on
News at 10,

Maybe, they'll feature my interview.