A/N: This is part one of a two-part story that I wrote for a contest. I decided in the end that it didn't really meet the requirements, but I like it anyway and I decided to post. Loosely based on my own experiences.

September 11th, 2001 started out like any day for me. I was a freshman that year, so at that point I still had no idea where my classes were and my biggest problem was finding them before the bell. I've lived in New York all my life. My mom has a good job at the World Trade Center, and it's really her job that's kept us in New York. It's also her job that gave me my best friend. Mush's dad and my mom have worked in the same office for years, so when my mom and Mush's mom gave birth two months apart, everyone figured that we'd be best friends.

And we were. All our lives, we've lived in the same building and we've spent all our time together. Kinda sickening, how close we are, considering that girls are the only things we don't share. Anyway, I've gotten off topic. Where was I? Oh yeah, trying to find my classes.

I got through the first four periods, which was relieving. I had lunch right before fifth, so I got a chance to relax. It was while I was standing in line, waiting to pick up my customary school pizza that I first noticed something weird going on. At my school, there's an administrator in the lunchroom, standing behind a microphone so that he can make sure there aren't any food fights or anything. Every once in a while, someone will forget a dentist appointment or something and the secretary, Mrs. Cayly, will come running in with a sheet of paper with the kid's name and excuse written on it and the principal will say something like, "Brandon Johnson, your mother is here to pick you up for your dentist appointment." Today, Mrs. Cayly was in and out every few seconds, it seemed, with one of those little sheets of paper. And the principal would call another kid out to go home. By the time lunch was over, half the cafeteria had left. Mush and I just looked at each other and shrugged and headed on to fifth period.

It was during fifth that I really started to get scared. I had science that period, and it, too, stared out pretty ordinary. We were passing out books, which basically means that the students sit around and talk while the teacher sits in the back calling you up in alphabetical order and writing down your name and book number. I guess it's so they can make sure you don't steal a Bio textbook, or something. I don't know why you'd want to, I can't stand Bio.

Anyway, we were sitting around at our desks (or, more likely, somebody else's so we could talk to friends across the room) when the loudspeaker clicked on. It was our principal who spoke, sounding tense and frightened.

"I understand that there are rumors circulating about the number of students being pulled out of class. There is something going on, but I can't tell you what. All I can tell you is that you are safe here at school. Have a nice day."

Yeah, like we could after an announcement like that. And if it was meant to dispel some of the rumors it was a complete failure. Instead, the rumors flew thicker and faster than ever. A girl in my gym class told me that the Pentagon, in Washington, had been bombed. She was almost sure it wasn't the Japanese. Another boy knew for a fact that Chicago had been hit with nuclear weapons, and that Canada was planning an invasion. Everyone's stories contradicted each others.

It wasn't until I got home that I found out the truth. My mom was sitting on the couch crying.

"Mom?" I asked. "What the hell?" I was starting to get really scared. She just shook her head and pointed at the TV set. I took one look and sat down hard on the couch. The headline on the bottom of the screen read, "Planes Hijacked: Twin Towers Hit." I started shaking uncontrollably. "Mom?"

"I was late getting back from lunch," she sobbed. "My entire office—they all died."

I felt as though someone had punched me in the stomach. I had gone to work with her a bunch of times, and I knew all the people she worked with. But, if they were all dead, then that would mean that Mush's dad was…. It was at that moment that the doorbell rang.

I hurried to answer it, and found Mush standing there, tears pouring down his face.

"Blink," he said, his voice hoarse from crying. "My dad..."