Mahvish Irfan
Block One
Feb. 14, 08

Complete Annihilation

The sweet tune of the morning birds chirping woke me up graciously and marked a smile upon my lips that I presumed would last the entire day.  Once my ears and lips were content with how they began their diurnal course, my nose started sniffing feverishly in hunt for the pleasing aroma of wholesome pancakes.  It sniffled with all its potency, but to its great disappointment, found not a single hint of any delectable breakfast.  This irked me, nevertheless, but the thought of playing in the kickball tournament held today during recess brought me up to my feet instantaneously.  
I am known as the best player in my entire fifth grade class, and I have been painstakingly waiting for this day since the beginning of summer vacation.  Not only have I practiced the sport assiduously, but I knew that this was my time to shine.  
I sprung out of my bed like a kangaroo and rushed to the bathroom as fast as my legs would permit.  Generally, I consider myself to be quite galvanic in the morning and I like for my day to roll out smoothly.  I brushed my teeth, ate cereal, and changed my clothes as I normally do, and headed out the house for a brand new day at school.  Although to my disheartenment I had no pancakes to eat for breakfast, I desperately wanted for everything else to sail accordingly.
Upon arriving to my fifth grade class, my morning was instantly stirring up with remarkable excitement.  All my peers were huddled closely together, as if they were a flock of penguins gathering for warmth, and were zestfully spreading rumors.  Their mouths were racing at the speed of a thousand miles per hour, and being the nosy person I am, began to slyly eavesdrop.
I started walking towards all the different cliques, making sure that I was unnoticeable. I was looking up at the ceiling, strolling in a casual, aloof manner, but my ears were more vigilant than a cat.  From what I carefully unearthed piece by piece and put together like a puzzle, was a rumor of a food fight.  It was supposed to be launched by all the fifth graders at lunch after the kickball tournament, to unmercifully attack all the lower classmen.  Perhaps this was to show them who’s “superior”.  I hadn’t known the whole story, so I began searching for my friend Sarah to uproot any further information.
“Hey Sarah!” I called out when I spotted her standing alone beside the chalkboard in front of the classroom.  I was waving my hands frantically to grab her attention; she saw me and smirked.  Sarah, a small, coy girl sat in the back corner of the classroom.  She’s the type that turned heads and astonished everyone when she spoke.
“Oh, hey Mahvish!” she greeted me and began to walk toward my direction.  She tripped over her laces and gave me an awkward smile of chagrin.    
“Sarah,” I whispered nudging on her shirt with impatience once she was nearby. “Did you hear anything at all about the food fight?”
“Yeah, I did,” she exclaimed as she popped open her eyes and raised her eyebrows.  I could tell she’s been eavesdropping herself.  “It’s a good thing our teacher isn’t here yet.  But anyway, from what I hear, it’s going to be huge!”
I bit my bottom lip and squealed with ecstasy.  “This is so unbelievably awesome!” I yelped.  We high-fived each other and I could tell doubtlessly that this day was going to be unlike any other day I’ve had in the past.  “This is going to be the best day of my life,” I told Sarah.  
As our teacher Mrs. Rothenberg, whom the students jokingly called “Rotten-bird,” walked in the classroom when the bell rang, everyone lowered down their volume drastically.  She walked fast-paced in her heels as usual, with her knee-lengthened skirt and flawless matching jewelry.  Nothing about her was out of the ordinary; she’s a warm, benevolent woman, with soft wrinkles and light makeup, who never broke out of her daily routine.  
“Good morning class,” she said cheerfully, the same way she has since the beginning of the year.  
“Good morning Mrs. Rothenberg,” the class dully replied.
“Lets get started with our homework review, shall we?” she winked her eye and unzipped her briefcase.  We were to start our day the same exact way as any other weekday.  Pedantic.
Time was passing by so unbearably slow that I checked inside my lunchbox to see if my milk became sour.  I kept glancing at the clock anxiously during all the lessons and stared perniciously at the unmoving time.  Relentlessly, I sighed and rested my head on the old wooden desk.  I glanced at the clock once more; it was 10: 59 a.m. and at 12: 15 p.m. was the tournament.  Tingling butterflies flourished rapidly in my stomach with the thought of the tournament being so imminent.  
My eyes closed and my mind wandered off to all those sweaty, blistering hot summer days when I was preparing for this event with such ardent dedication.  I smiled grandly on my aged desk and gently twirled my hair with my index finger.  The ebullience that was burgeoning inside of me was like my school binder.  The protective hard cover saved me from breaking apart, and the binds secured me together.  Sparks of joy began igniting in me and exuberance overwhelmed my body.  I rocked back and forth in my chair, swung my legs impatiently, and waited for the clock to strike 12: 15 p.m.  Inside the binder, the myriad of pristine papers gifted me with a smooth, clean outlook on a life; the colorful dividers separated my happiness from my sadness.
And then the phone rang.
I opened my eyes after a brief moment and noticed that all of my classmates’ heads were turned in the same direction.  Everyone was staring intently out the door at Mrs. Rothenberg speaking on the phone. I turned around to look at her myself, interested to see what everyone else was so curious about.  To my utter surprise, I saw that her mouth was wide open and she clutched on to her pearl necklace tightly.  She turned around so that none of us could see her facial expression, which made me ponder if she was crying or not.  A million questions raced through my mind:  What happened?  Did a family member die?  Did someone go to the hospital?  Is everything alright?  
No one spoke and tremendous awe settled heavily in the atmosphere.  None knew what was to happen next and were left dazed by the sudden change of environment.  We heard the opening of the door, and watched Mrs. Rothenberg walk in, but this time, she walked in with a slow pace.  Her head was down and all of us were eager to see if she was crying.  Within a few seconds she looked up, and ascertained her students that she was not sobbing, but her face unmistakably appeared paler.  
“All students are to report to the auditorium,” she told us in a cold voice unlike her own.  
I looked at my left, and then to my right to see what other students were doing.  None of them stood up, “Line up,” she commanded harshly, and everyone obeyed her at once.  As the students queued, I failed to fight temptation and I glanced at the clock again.  It was now 11: 15 a.m. and my tournament was exactly an hour away.  My heart was beating rapidly and my knees became weak at the thought of having the tournament canceled.  Silently, I prayed that whatever was to happen in the auditorium was to happen swiftly.   “None but God can take this tournament away from me,” I assured myself.
In the auditorium there was endless commotion.  Students were confused and continuously asked their friends if they knew what was going on.  A good portion of the fifth graders worried that the food fight was going to be cancelled, and another portion worried about the kickball tournament.  I was among the few that worried morbidly about both.  
“Sarah,” I called, “what do you suppose is going on?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied.
“And what about Mrs. Rothenberg?  How come she left the school after she dropped us off here?”
“I think something really bad happened Mahvish.”
“God, I hope not.”   
Expectantly, the Principle Mrs. Small made an announcement, that to our dismay, didn’t expunge any confusion, or provide answers to our questions.  “There is an early dismissal today, all parents are notified, and buses will be arriving soon,” was all she said; just one measly sentence that brutally pierced my soul and made my eyes water.  All that I have been hoping and aspiring for was snatched away with a single sentence.  There was to be no tournament and there was to be no food fight.
I was becoming incensed and rage inflamed inside of me like a brightly lit fireplace.  I held my breath to prevent myself from crying, but all that did was squeeze new tears out of my eyes and make my throat burn.  It was impossible for me to refrain from falling on my knees helplessly and explode into a river of tears.  I made a show for everyone, but at this point, I was hysterical, and could not care about anything or anyone.
“It’s not fair!” I cried out, “It’s not fair!  It’s not fair!”  I lost something I worked so hard for, something I wanted so painfully and dearly that it made my soul yearn.  And I lost it with a single sentence and without a single say.  I began to pull my hair out of agony, “This was supposed to be the best day of my life…” I listened to myself whimper. The tournament meant the world to me.
Mama came to pick me up eventually, and I could tell she was somewhat remorseful for me, but it seemed as though something else deeply graved her.  When we arrived home I told her, “Mama did you know today was supposed to be the best day of my life?  I was supposed to have two the greatest things happen to me: the tournament and the food fight, but neither of them happened.”
“Mahvish, be grateful,” she replied in a stern voice.
“But Mama…”
She gave me a bitter look and I decided to not say a word, “What happened anyways?” I asked her curiously.  I felt as though the answer to this question would be as soothing as a badly needed itch to a mosquito bite.
“Something horrible….”  I wasn’t surprised by her answer at all.
“Mama, just tell me what it is.  No one’s telling me what’s going on, not even the teachers, and I really want to know,” I protested.
“Turn on the television and find out for yourself.”
I did as she told me without question and grabbed the remote from the coffee table.  On the first channel I saw the Twin Towers; I assumed this was a breaking news report.  “Oh, we went there a couple weeks ago,” I reminded her.  I continued to stare into the screen and saw an airplane flying, and it seemed as though it was going to hit the towers. My mom rushed upstairs to her bedroom without looking back.  I decided to change the channel, but noticed all the channels were about the Twin Towers.  Hence, because of this peculiarity I watched the news report attentively.
The first thing I noticed was the airplane I saw previously on the other channel.   It hit one of the Towers, but I felt as though it was aimed at me, to destroy me.  I recalled how I didn’t get what I wanted today, even though I wanted it with all my heart for so awfully long.  I let out a deep sigh and saw that another airplane was flying towards the Towers.  I didn’t want this one to wound me, so I looked away.  I didn’t want to recall anything. I didn’t want to see anything demolish, so I put my head down.  I played with my fingers and thought of the birds chirping in the morning, and how I believed their beautiful melody held the power to keep a permanent smile on my face throughout the day.  “Boy…things sure can change fast,” I said.  I forcibly pushed the thought of the tournament and the food fight in the back of my mind.
I looked up to watch the television report again, but only looked up to see two incredibly beautiful Towers, two incredibly beautiful dreams, collapse; and collapse before my eyes.  It was as though in the blink of an eye, an arrow shot through my heart and made my entire being swollen.  I witnessed the annihilation of everything: the Towers, the people, and worse yet, their hopes and dreams.  They lost all this without a single say, just like myself.  As I sat down in front of the television, I dug my face into my hands, and I wept for everything unfair and unfortunate.