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I'll start with this before I go into my first story. Thank you for reading! I appreciate comments and all that jazz. Please note that I'm really not logging on often (I can't even remember the last time I got on), and I'm not even glancing at my messages or notifications, so sorry. I will, however, take a glance at comments from time to time, although I'm not sure how often that will be, so if you have something to say regarding a story, say it. 

Conflicting opinions are welcome. Debates are welcome. Story sharing is welcome. Heck, if you have a life story you want put in this, comment and ask about it and we can work some stuff out to get your words in this miserable publication I call a book. 

Phew. Okay! That's out of the way; let's get to our first story.

Wait, crap, no, we can't do that until you know who I am.

My 'name' is Amandine, or Mandie. As of June 29, 2016, I'm a 15-year-old American high school sophomore. I danced for nine or ten years very seriously in a ballet company, and I have performed in over 30 shows, ballet and not. I am a journalist, dramaturg, actress, and of course, student. I also sing, tap dance, and work on a group YouTube channel specializing in skits. I have brown hair, blue-grey eyes, pale olive skin, and fat thumbs. I'm 5'8". I tried writing fiction for a while, but I've found it rather tiring recently; it loses its fun after a while as the pressure to develop new twists or maintain a certain pace increases, so my current project hasn't even been touched in about six months. I passionately despise teamwork, lazy people, and anyone who discusses "swag" in a non-sarcastic manner. 

PHEW. That's done. NOW let's get to our first story. 

My school is one of many hosts for a nationwide program known as Every 15 Minutes (you can look at the website here - http://www.everyfifteenminutes.org/aboutus/). If you don't want to look at the website, basically, it is an anti-drinking and driving campaign. Because of a statistic stating every 15 minutes, an American dies of a distracted-driving or alcohol-related car crash, for a day, every 15 minutes, a member of the participating school is called out of class. From there, that person's "obituary" is read to the class, the person's face is painted so the person appears dead, and the person cannot speak or interact with anyone else for the rest of the day. At the end of the school day, all students called out of class go to a retreat, where they read goodbye letters written by loved ones and discuss their findings for the day. They return to school the next day during an assembly, a mock funeral service. 

Two weeks before April 7th, 2016, I was called out of class. My school was hosting Every 15 Minutes again, and I had been nominated by teachers as one of the students to die. No, it's not because my teachers hate me (although I suspect it); rather, instructors were asked to nominate students involved in a variety of activities so they would influence the most people. After all, if the students dying are all a bunch of track stars and nothing else, they probably won't affect the band kids, and vice versa. Since I'm in journalism, theatre, and choir, I fit the criteria. Plus, my dad is a band director, meaning many band kids know me as well as many teachers in the art department. I said yes to the offer.

April 7th came. It was the day of the program. Although I knew I would die, I was forbidden from telling anyone else, not even my brother. I also didn't know when I would die. I caught myself staring endlessly at my watch through every mind-numbing class, waiting for a quarter hour, holding my breath in expectation, and then hearing a phrase on the intercom:

"Maddie Fischbacher. Maddie Fischbacher died on April 7th, 2016 due to an alcohol-related crash. She was a junior at Generic High School."

Not me. The breath would release, and I would relax for a few moments only to repeat the cycle of tension. 

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