This is an Essay I wrote for english class about a life expirence I have had:

Who Cares About Tomorrow

It was November 14, another day of 12th grade was about to begin. I woke up wondering why Omar or Chris hadn’t called me the night before for our usual talk about the girls we liked, but I thought nothing of it. I came all prepared for the day ahead and walked in my first class just as the bell rang. It was about thirty minutes into the class when Mr. Goldman, my counselor, knocked at the door and interrupted my regular class nap.
“May I please see Michael Blahut for a few moments?” I quickly thought back to see if I had done anything wrong and I couldn’t find myself guilty of any such actions, so naturally I was glad to be relieved of my algebra class. I got up, wiped any drool remains off my face, and followed Mr. Goldman down the hall.
“So, how have you been?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Pretty good” I replied in a hesitant manner, not knowing what he was getting at.
“How’s soccer going?” asked Mr. Goldman.
“Alright” I stated as we walked into the main office.
He informed me we were going to talk with a few people, I was really wondering what
was going on. Once I walked into this conference room I was feverishly knocking my brain, trying to figure what this was all about. A calm faced woman, nicely dressed with a serious and professional look in her eyes was sitting down at the end of the long table. She spoke plainly and asked me to take a seat, while more people were to be expected. At first I thought this was going to be about my family situation, because of my parents’ recent divorce and my sister refusing to attend school. My notions slowly changed when I saw my friends entering the room. First it was Preston, a fellow soccer player, then Matt, another friend. Other people came in that I recognized including Omar’s current girl friend, Meghan. We were all just sitting there waiting for something to begin, waiting on the straight faced lady. My mind crept back to continue the day dream I was having.
The car was fast and I was jealous. My best friend Omar had just bought a 1993 Mazda RX7 Twin Turbo. We had shopped around together looking at cars for him to buy and I kept telling him not to get anything too exotic or fast but he always wanted to go fast. Of course I didn’t blame him; I was always trying to get my ‘94 Acura Integra to go faster. Now he had the faster car and I was happy for him, but at the same time I wanted to steal the RX7 and peal out at every stop light on my way to Vegas. So now that Omar had a car, other than his previous beat up Honda Accord, he would be taking us around and showing off his new muscle. By us, I mean me and Chris, our other best friend. We were the trio of friends that did everything together, from soccer to chewing sunflower seeds on the side of the road. The problems arose when Omar got the car, because it only seated two, a passenger and a driver. So it was obvious to see the dilemma.
“Alright, rock-paper-scissors!” proclaimed Chris, who was always the instigator. Chris and I were always doing rock-paper-scissors to see who would get to ride with Omar and who would take their own car to wherever we were headed off to. I didn’t mind losing the seat to Chris, because I liked driving my Integra, but Chris always insisted on “best out of three” for any game we played. The sucker I was, I always agreed to the next rounds until I lost. So it became that I didn’t even bother going with Omar anymore, and Chris was all time “shotgun”.
“Dude, that was freakin’ hilarious!” I shouted after Omar condemned a bike cop to Hell.
“We got to tell Chris about that one…” exclaimed Omar.
At the time this was all just fun, something to make our routine lives more exciting. We all had fun riding with Omar, it gave us some interesting stories to tell, and something to brag about to our less adventurous friends. We had fun and that’s all we ever cared about.
Omar, Chris, and I did everything together. Many of times we found ourselves in conflict with other authorities, but with Omar’s mouth, Chris’ charm, and my intelligence, we were able to wiggle ourselves out of almost any situation. Chris’ parents had just bought him a brand new Jeep Cherokee, fully loaded. Naturally, we wanted to see if this car could hold up to its sport utility name. We did everything to that car, even unexplainable things. When the mechanics couldn’t understand how a door got bent completely backwards, Chris made up some out of this world story involving a gas station and faulty door closing mechanism. Unknown to the mechanics and Chris’ parents, he had been goofing around when Omar was getting into the car, flooring it backwards while the door hit a light pole. The three of us had many adventures off-roading that I will not dare to incriminate myself in. The winter was my favorite time. When school was cancelled due to the “un-drivable” conditions of the road, we called each other up and agreed to take out the Jeep.
“Man, I can’t believe I survived that” I blurted out of my mouth.
“Yeah, that was pretty dangerous” Chris said with a laughter.
“Let’s do it again!” Omar shouted, but we had already started another run. We attached sleds to the back of the car and took turns sliding at speeds of forty, even fifty miles an hour and eventually ending up in a snow bank along side of the road. We did the usual doughnuts through parking lots and jumped snow piles, each taking turns at the wheel. As dangerous as this seems now, we were just teenagers trying to make the best of any situation, and we never regretted a moment of it.
“Dude, I’m pretty beat. Let’s wrap it up with a last run and get some grub.” I said out of breath.
“Oh, snap! Who’s that guy coming over here?” Questioned Chris
“I don’t know and I don’t want to find out. Dudes, let’s get out of here, pronto.” Omar said. We herd the grumpy man yelling something in an unpleasant voice. We threw our stuff in the back of the Jeep and Chris drove out in the other direction, I don’t even know if we were on a road but the guy was no where to be seen. The three of us couldn’t stop laughing. My day dream was interrupted abruptly.
Finally she stood up; I had this horrible feeling that what she had to say was going to change my life forever.
“I have something I need to tell you all. Omar and Chris were in a car accident coming home from work last night. Omar is injured and will be alright but Chris died early this morning. I am sorry” she said plain and simple, then proceeded to exit the room leaving behind the disaster she had just created.
The room busted out with cries and sobs. My stomach instantly dropped, I felt like I swallowed a stick of dynamite and it exploded inside me. I couldn’t believe it, nothing like this could ever happen to my friends, but when I looked around the room, at the pain and tears, I too began uncontrollably crying. “How could this happen” I kept thinking, “It’s not real, it’s not real”. How the hell could anyone just stand up and blatantly say that to me. They dragged me into this panic room, pulled out machine guns loaded with unthinkable words and shot mortal holes in my entire life. That lady just told me my best friends were injured and dead! I wanted to run and tackle her, punch and beat that lady and make her take it back. While I held back my aggression, Preston did not. He slammed his fist into the wall and went stampeding out of the room. Some other counselors grabbed him and held him back, his arms were flailing everywhere. He couldn’t be contained and they knew it, so they let him run out into the halls. The counselors said they were there for us but nothing could take away this pain except me seeing Omar and Chris alright. I laid in bed for next couple of days. I mainly just wanted to forget it ever happened and didn’t want to talk to anyone. I laid there and thought of a million questions a minute, why’s and how’s, but none of it really mattered. I wanted to see Omar and tell him everything I was feeling, and ask him everything that happened. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through so I just left him alone. I didn’t know anything and I was scared, I wanted so much and I wanted nothing. Confused and motionless, I just stared my self to sleep.
I was in no way holding anything against my best friend, Omar. They are still not really sure of how he had lost control, but you could tell by what was left of the RX-7, Omar was lucky to even survive. He had a punctured lung, but it has completely healed up, and he still only remembers little pieces of what happened. As much as I miss the company of my close friend Chris, there is no way I can look in the past and want to change anything. Omar and I closer than ever before, and we still laugh and joke about Chris and all the things we did together.
“Omar, dude, what happened?” I questioned.
“I don’t know man, but I’m glad you’re here. I miss him.” Omar said.
“Yeah, me too…remember that time he put chocolate syrup on my car, and I got him back by putting toilet paper mixed with peanut butter on his windshield. He was pretty mad…” I said with a chuckle.
“Oh yeah, that cracked me up. I just sat there and laughed at you guys.” Omar said with
a smile on his face.