Waiting in line at American Eagle, scrolling through Twitter, I read, “Does anyone know who was in the car crash in Delafield?”
What? No, this can’t be happening again. First JT, then Patrick. And now more?
I look to Grace. “Someone was in a car crash.” That’s all I can say.
She looks at me in disbelief. “Who?”
I scrolled through the Twitter newsfeed to find out more. About 30 minuets later, after endlessly searching, I find this: “It was T.J., Kody, and Ian.”
No, I don’t believe it. This can’t be true.
Tears come out of my eyes. I turn to Grace again to tell her the news. And seeing her face react brings a new wave of tears.

I’m in a public place. I can’t cry here. Looking at Grace and my family’s exchange student from Spain, I think. Stay strong, Shelby.

“Let’s leave,” is all I can manage to say. The drive home gave my mind time to wonder.

I’ll never be able to laugh with Ian because of his endless parade of jokes. Or make fun of him because I convinced him to let me paint his nails and put him in a dress. No one will experience T.J.’s ability to make an entire class laugh again. And Kody’s kindness and humor will never be shared.

The days after were very unclear. I couldn’t process these boys, whom I knew so well, were gone. I refused to cry, because I wanted that to have hope that they would still be here. But they weren’t here. At the funerals, when I saw their lifeless bodies, it registered. They were gone.
Three funerals. One week. I never want to experience that kind of emotional duress again. But because of them, I’m more determined to do what is best for me. I’m more determined to move forward with my life, learn from my mistakes, and work hard to make them proud and excel in what I want for my life. I’m more determined because they didn’t get to do the things they wanted to do in their lives before it ended.