Wtc

7:30 a.m. I walk into my middle school as if it was an average day. I meet up with my friends at our lockers talking about our soccer game later that afternoon against our rival Marlboro. As we were in the middle of our conversation the homeroom bell rang and the teachers rush us off to class. First class of the day is English one class that I dreaded, not because of the work but because of the teacher. During the class period I check my cell phone numerous times to see if I have received texts from my friends. Once again the bell rings and off to another class.

The time is now 9:20 a.m. and my next class has begun. In history we discuss the pelapanetion war. At about 9:45 a.m. my cell phone starts to vibrate profusely. I ask to go to the bathroom and I check my phone. My friend Joe informs me that our soccer game has been canceled, due to a small airplane hitting the World Trade Center. After hearing the horrific news I walked back to class, thinking to myself about the crash. I thought it had been one of those small single engine airplanes, having only a couple of people on board. As the bell rang class was dismissed and once again everyone crowed into the hallways. Once we all get into the hallway more and more people talk about the plane hitting the north tower of the World Trade Center.

At 10:15 a.m. rumors are being spread that another plane had struck the south tower. There were also rumors about a possible bomb at the White House and the World's Mall in the Midwest. When I entered my mathematics class, the teacher had the television on. As he see's us walk into the room he abruptly shuts it off and many students can see tears rolling down his face. The class continues, with nobody speaking about the events. Through out the day many rumors were spread about the tragic event. Some teachers allowed their students to watch the television, but not mine. I began to worry because I know that my father's friends all work in the Trade Center and many of my friend's fathers.

After the school day ended I stepped on the school bus ready to go home. I look to sit with friend and neighbor, Joe. I find him sitting in the backseat of the bus with tears rolling down his cheeks. I look at him and say, "Joe what is wrong, what happened?" He looks at me with a sad face and stated, "John my dad works in World Trade Center tower one on the 75th floor." I hugged him, not knowing how to react. Joe is my best friend and his dad was like a second father to me. I wish I could have made his pain go away, yet there was nothing I could do. We both get off the bus at about 2:00 pm; our parents waiting anxiously at the bus stop. It was very unusual because they never wait for us to get off the bus and the two of us walk home together. We step into my living room and I see my father, my mother, Joe's mother and some neighbors gathered around the television. Everyone's cell phones where going off simultaneously. I still hadn't been able to see what occurred that day, and I was nervous to see what happened. Due to my curiosity I sat on my couch and became one of millions of Americans glued to their television sets. What I saw was the most horrific scene, I have ever seen in my life. There where just piles of smoke and debris. People ran covered in dust. Still to this day all I picture are those two planes flying into the buildings.

It is now 3:00pm and Joe is sitting next to me. We both look up and ask if his father was alright. His mother gave us an unforgettable look. With tears rolling down her cheeks she told Joe that she has not gotten in touch with his father yet. I assume that all day the question had haunted her. She did not know how to explain to her son that his father might now be coming home that night. I looked at Joe and said lets go outside and hang out for a little. As we had walked outside I realized all my friends where doing the same thing. So we all joined up and sat on the corner. Some of us where in tears some of

us were in disbelief. We asked questions like why? Who did the attacks? Yet, No one really knew what to say to my friend Joe who sat there in silence. I just put my arm around him and comforted him.

6:45 pm as we are still chatting on the corner I see my dad's friend pull up in the driveway. This was one of my dad's friends that he grew up with all his life. They stayed in contact with each other. I never saw him often and began to wonder why he came to my house on this very day. I grabbed Joe and started to walk back to my house. My dad's friend, Tony, had greeted me with a huge hug. Turns out he was in Manhattan that day and since the bridges were closed he could not get back to his house in Brooklyn, so he came to stay with us.

It's been almost nine hours later and we still haven't spoken Joe's father. There were millions of thoughts running through our minds whether or not he was alive or just couldn't get in touch yet. We also thought maybe he was wounded and was in a hospital lost among all many people. The crying had stopped because everyone realized that would not make the situation better. We decided to do was go out to eat. Everyone jumped into