  My new, slower-paced, English class is glorious . We have it in the jewelry room, so we sit on stools around big tables, covered each day in new butcher paper. Lauren and I take the entire morning to draw all over them, portraits of students, decorative lyrics, and tic-tac-toe games.
At the end of the day, our “desks” are like mini-murals chronical first period. I don’t want to make this sound trivial, because it’s a very sad, sad story. But I don’t want to personalize it too much, either, because it’s so unsettling. A girl from Robin and Annica’s church died in a car accident last week. They hadn’t seen her for many years, but Annica in particular was friends with her when they were very young. I can’t imagine dying in a car accident. I can’t imagine dying, come to think of it. All throughout grade school, I would watch Now and Then , christened as ‘Tinnie’ for obvious reasons (obvious, that is, if you see the movie and were in my life to witness the “I have no chest! My life is over!” stage) There is a scene in the movie in which Roberta pretends to drown in the river, to see who her real friends are. I think I base a lot of what I think about death on that movie. Death has always felt mysterious and out-of-reach, like movie plots.
Something I could only experience through a screen. Whenever I’m faced with the idea that the things and people around me are mortal, that one day we will die, I find it impossible to grasp that notion’s enormity. How will I move on after someone I know dies? How will I be able to function ? Will I be able to? So, perhaps immaturely, I just decide to put those thoughts in the farthest corners of my mind. I think of something Claire said to me.
We were thirteen and sipping merlot around 3 AM in the park near Maryellen’s house. It was one of those balmy summer nights when everything seemed to stretch out forever in front of you. I was loved then, because of those girls, I was special and I had a place in our world. And Claire said, prophetically, “ Live in the moment .” Tomorrow I will be sixteen. Affectionately… Anna 
