19:11 - December 04, 2002
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When we all kicked around the hackysack in the basement or the lounge or outside, there was only one girl there besides me. She was the only one who didn't make fun of how terrible I was at it and she was usually the only one who would ever pass the sack to me, because she knew it wasn't the end of the world if I kicked it, kickball style, into the wall, as I always did. She drove us to see Bowling for Columbine in her tiny car, eight of us crammed in there, because nobody wanted to walk in the cold, even though she didn't really want to see it as much as the rest of us did. When we all smoked, she didn't join us, but sat on the floor by the kitchen counter, smiling up at Andrew and I, sipping a beer. I always got the feeling she felt a little out of place around all the guys, a more amplified version of what I felt sometimes.
Over Thanksgiving weekend, in New Mexico, she and her brother died in a car crash. When Brendan told me, I was positive he was fucking around and kept on playing Donkey Kong, going 'you're fucking with me. You're fucking with me.' Brendan, though, is the quietest guy I know, and when he kept talking, kept saying, 'I'm not, I'm not,' I realized he was serious. My thumbs fumbled, I dropped the controller. He was still looking at me.
Jeremy knew before all of us and hadn't said anything. He came by on Sunday asking to borrow Chris's bike; he was white and drawn looking.... we all made fun of him for his crazy mood swings. He didn't say a word until Monday.
There's a memorial downstairs by the cafeteria, a sheet of paper for people to write things. People have left flowers, some people left other things. I wrote something so completely inane I disgusted myself because my fingers were shaking so badly. I hardly knew her, but she was always a presence... I mean, a week ago she was kicking a cloth sack full of sand around Andrew's room, a week ago she was sipping a beer. And now she isn't, and she never will.
I got home at midnight and the entire hall smelled like hamster cages from Steve's new loft that the builder guy was putting up. Wood shavings filled the hallway. Steve was climbing into his new bed; Nick was lying under it poking at the mattress, pissing off Steve in the process. They were ecstatic; they've been wanting to do this forever. The TV was blaring loudly and music was coming from somewhere and they were chattering to each other excitedly like they never do under normal circumstances.
I told Nick what happened to her because those were the only words in my mouth. For a split second he almost looked vaguely affected, but then someone said something on the TV and he burst into laughter. I contemplated hitting him with something sharp, but instead I went into my room and shut the door.

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