Short Story

                 Happiness was all around; we were all riding the bus back to the high school as we had just won the biggest game in Pewaukee Football History. Yelling at the top of our lungs, laughing hysterically, we were celebrating as if we had the Super Bowl Trophy on the bus. It felt as if nothing could bring any of us down, including me. It’s hard to even describe what I was feeling at that very moment. Sure, I was laughing and having a good time, but I felt as if someone just took out my brain and threw it somewhere. I wasn’t able to think straightly due to all this excitement. Although all this was a great moment, I had no idea what had happened an hour before kickoff. It turned out to be one of the darkest moments a person could experience in their entire life.

                The time was around 11:00 P.M. when I got home from the victory dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings. My bed wasn’t calling me yet so I decided I would stay up for awhile, just watching T.V. An hour or so had passed, and I was still watching that same TV, in the same position. That was, until the moment that changed my life had arrived. The time was now 12:00 A.M, and that’s when I heard a knock on the door. I thought it was some of my friends ding dong ditching me, seeing as they were going to be happy that we won the game, but it wasn’t to my surprise. A Pewaukee Police Officer stood at my front door step, and saw me as I had crept my way from the back door. Feeling a little bit uneasy about the situation, I approached him and asked “Is there something wrong, sir?” He just stood there with the look on his face, as if he couldn’t explain this serious situation to a sixteen year old. He just asked me if my mother was home, and that we should go get her. At this point, my mind was going off in a million different directions. My thoughts were twisted in my brain like a giant knot in my stomach. Had my grandpa pass? Are my sister’s okay? Nobody knew. Finally my mother came out, not knowing what was going on. The officer then said that he had been told to come to this residence and say that “a Mr. Kevin Conroy has been killed in a traffic accident”. I stood there in shock. The moments of silence grew frighteningly louder; the stillness became exasperating.  I didn’t move, I didn’t cry, I didn’t do anything. I just stood there until he left, and then I proceeded to my room, where being by myself felt as if it was the best solution. Now I was more conscious of this new disturbance. I was in complete denial. My father wasn’t dead, my best friend wasn’t gone. He has to have the wrong guy, this isn’t happening to me. I felt this until I picked up my phone, scrolled through my contacts with my sweaty palms, and found the one that said “Dad.” I then proceeded to call it, so I could hear my father’s voice, but there was nothing. No ring, no voice, no nothing. Awaiting for a ring with impatience, I decided I would call again, but I got the same result. The only sound that could be heard through my home was my warm tears hitting the cold floor.