The hands go in the continuous path, crossing over each other over and over again until the longer hand passes the shorter one exactly on the 12 .Students flood into the hallway from every direction as a loud chime screams from the intercom and bounces from wall to wall. "Finally lunch time" I think to myself as my stomach groans with a sense of emptiness. I shuffle through the hallway, being careful not to step on anyone's ankles and trying my best not to trip on the thin stairs. I finally get to the bottom of the stairwell, I scan the area in search for A familiar face. At last I see a tall, built girl standing by the clay brick wall facing the staircase. Her hair was lava and it poured off her head and down her back like a never cool volcano, her skin was freckled from head to toe and her hazel eyes welcomed me with colors of greens and (some how) grey. A look of sadness engulfed her face and drew the corners of her mouth down unlike her wide grin that she usually carried with her everywhere she went. I asked her what's wrong and she replied with "my mom is going to kill me when she see the grade for the history test I just failed"
"Leanna... Your mom hasn't checked your grades since we were in the 3rd grade. Stop stressing all the time" I said with a laugh.  The corners of her mouth folded back up into almost a full smile because she knew i was right. We began to head to lunch and chose our normal spot outside right under the big oak tree that shaded us. We deemed this spot ours on the first day of freshman year when we had no where to sit, and no one to sit with besides each other, it's always been us two. I sling my backpack onto the table and it slams against the grey stone making a loud thud. "I would rather die than carry around this book for Mr. Sittas class"
"Hey that's better than being forced to take P.E. and having to carry around clothes and shoes everyday"
"Nah I would much rather have gym class." We sit outside because it's quieter, though there's people packed all around us and students everywhere hovering around grey tables like we are. I glance over to the road that runs right by the lunch area and see a white Prius making its way down the narrow street. The car pulled up right next to the school and with tinted windows I couldn't see who was inside. The dean that usually guards the outside lunch area got up from his lawn chair that stood next to the tree trunk and made his way over to see why the now parked car had stopped.  I was watching carefully, along with the few people around me who also saw the car roll down the road. As the dean walked up there he reached out his hand to knock on the window, but before his hand could, a piercing sonic boom shot through the air as the car window shattered into a million pieces.  The glass fell onto the pavement along with the dean that now carried two bullets in his chest.  The screams and yelling of people around me grew more faint as the gun went off again, and again and again. Never ending. The bullets flew into the large mass of teenagers, left and right people were dropping to the floor like the ground was pulling them in. The faces of people I knew had their mouths wide open and they were yelling. But I couldn't hear them. I couldn't hear anything except the gunshots, who's noise now shattered thought out my whole body. One after another. I was completely frozen in place and I didn't realize that my best-friend had a grip on my arm until she let go. She let go. I came to my senses and jerked my head to see her with both hands griping just below her collar bone, and pouring out from under her hands flowed a crimson river of blood.  She was sinking to the ground but I was trying to hold her up, trying to force her to hold on to her life for just alittle longer.  I couldn’t hold up her weight any longer so I lowered her down to the ground an placed her on her back in the grass that was right beside our table. The colors of world were blended together from the tears that balanced on the bottom of my eye. I never got to see her face, never got to make out the words she was trying to say in her last moments.  Maybe I would have known if I could have just seen her face, but all I could hear was broken syllables that she was spitting out between her gasps for air.  Thirty-two people died in total that day, including my best friend who I should have taken a bullet for.