By Imogène Taveau, Year 12
Lying awake in bed I replied to a few messages on my phone before checking the news, a nightly routine of mine. Scrolling through film reviews and the political turmoil in Britain, I stopped. “Breaking News: School Shooting in Florida”. My heart froze and I read the article. How many kids? That was the question sinking deep into my stomach. How many children’s lives were cut short before they even had the opportunity to really begin? The answer was there for me the next morning.
I sat there in bed a while, just thinking, the number 17 whirling around my head. I thought about the opportunities, the journeys and adventures that had awaited them. I thought about the school dances and birthday parties. I thought about my own birthday coming up, I’ll be 17 in a couple of weeks. At least half of those kids were younger than me. 17.
I thought about the parents sitting at home, waiting for their child. Maybe they were cooking dinner, setting the table, turning on the radio. I thought about the parents getting a call from the police telling them that their child wasn’t coming home. Did they clear the table that evening? Or did they leave the knives and forks in their places, untouched, food cold on the kitchen counter? I thought about the parents who had to make that call to the extended family, to tell them that their grandchild and niece/nephew and cousin was dead. 17.
I thought about the students that survived, who had to hide in a darkened classroom texting their goodbyes, who had to remain completely silent as screams echoed through the corridors. I thought about the students who had to see the bodies of their friends and classmates. That will stay with them forever. 17.
I thought about the politicians with their suits and briefcases and the gun mounted on the wall of their fancy houses. I thought about the consoling tweets written on the latest phone models and I thought about the smart cars driven to memorials. I thought about the millions of dollars donated by the NRA. I thought about the cost of human life, I thought about the price tags on the graves of children. I thought about what that cost might be on the next shooting. Then I got out of my bed and started the day, but a number of High School students and staff in Florida would not. 17.
