Do you believe me?

Ignorance is Bliss

I decided to give up on retrieving the books from my locker and just show up to class empty-handed, something that I'm sure the students of Milton would be surprised to see. They were expecting me to come with a gun in my hands and finish what Daniel started. I guess they would have to be disappointed.

    Walking to first period American History was a whole lesson just in itself. I felt like I was in a museum as I carefully navigated my way through the halls, making sure not to knock into anyone in fear that they might think I was out to hurt them. I also made sure to keep my hands out of my pockets, I noticed during my first encounter with the human population that keeping your hands out of site makes it seem like you have something to hide, which in my case would be a gun.

    It seemed that with every little step I took, the whispers became louder. Kids began to scatter at just the sight of me and I could smell the fear in each of them. Was this what Daniel experienced that day? Knowing Daniel, he must have loved that. Having everyone watching him, afraid of his next move. I'm making him sound crazy. He wasn't. I was sure of that. But does a sane kid shoot up a school? I didn't know anymore.

    I tried to focus my attention off of the dirty looks and onto the other students' lockers. I observed each of them closely as I passed. The students that happened to be "in Daniel's way" each had a tribute dedicated to them on the front of their lockers. I saw a couple of seniors hang up pictures and write notes on Mary Bolton's locker, a girl in my history class. Or I should say, she was in my history class. It hit me at that moment that she wouldn't be showing up for our lesson today and that was thanks to Daniel. He shot her in the throat. Or maybe it was the stomach. I don't remember. The sad thing was, no one in this school understood that she must have just got in the way. Daniel didn't mean to shoot her. He didn't need to tell me that for me to just know. He was so gentle, so kind, he wouldn't harm someone that didn't deserve it. He just wanted to help and Mary just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn't know her well, she was always so quiet, but I guess she must have been loud enough to make friends. The group looked like they were being held at gunpoint right then and there as I made my way past them.

    Other lockers had bigger displays, which I admit I was surprised to see. I was shocked as I walked past Scott Sullivan's locker, a sophomore who I was on debate club with. His teammates from the varsity soccer team went all out for him, making huge posters with little soccer balls hanging from it, and people left flowers and letters dedicated to him at the bottom of his locker. That seemed a bit excessive to me. I witnessed that one, Daniel only shot him in the foot. I was almost positive that he was already released from the hospital and he was certainly still alive. His foot would most likely heal in a few months, so why was there a huge shrine dedicated to him when he was still alive and well? I didn't get it, but his friends sure did. They had a similar reaction to Mary's friends as their eyes met with mine. I could feel the hatred towards me based on just their body language alone. Everyone assumed that because he was my best friend, I was somehow involved in this big plan to eliminate the student body one by one. That I wanted all of this to happen. That I wanted Daniel to be taken away from me. The students seemed to orchestrate this whole idea that Daniel and I were planning this for months and that I knew what was going to happen.

    That wasn't true.

    Was it?

    The locker that hit me the most was his. There was no shrine or tribute dedicated to him like Scott's or Mary's. Instead, the words "killer" were written in big, thick, black sharpie letters on the outside of his space gray locker. I stood there, probably longer than I should have looking at it. I bet I could have remembered his combination. I tried to remember every detail that I could about Daniel in fear that one day, I might lose him completely and that included his combination. He wasn't a killer. I mean, I knew that four died that day, but he wasn't a killer. I was positive of that. Apart of me wanted to take out a pen from my bag and cross those words out. But what would that say of me? I'm sure the kids here would just lose their shit at the sight of that. They'd probably send out an amber alert straight away with some cringe-worthy message stating that the shooter's friend was acting suspicious and to stay away.