For Brianna, Who Saw {9-11}

This story is for Brianna, who saw, and for her sister, who didn’t survive. I’m sorry it’s a bit late, Brie. I love you both.

It was recess. My friends and I were on the monkey bars, just sort of hanging out. Shielding my eyes, I looked up at the sky.

“Hey, look! There’s my sister’s plane!” I cried. I had been waiting forever for her to come home. I pointed upwards.

“That’s not the way to the airport, is it?” Erika asked.

“Erika.” Liz said, clearly exasperated.

They went back to hanging on the metal bars, but I was watching the plane. I couldn’t wait for my sister to come back—so we could do all that sister stuff.

Without warning, there was a crash, an explosion. People were running, screaming. The teacher hustled us all back inside, and turned on our classroom T.V. set.

Before my eyes, I saw the crash replayed over and over. Those were the scariest few minutes of my life. The class was buzzing. My eyes filled with tears. “Brianna, what’s wrong?” Someone asked.

“My sister,” was all I could say.

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