The sound of forty tennis shoes hitting the gym floor was the only sound present. My coach always watched us during our cool down run, to make sure we weren't cheating. We were all focused on completing our twenty laps in record time, mainly so we could shower and put our make-up on before the next period. I passed my coach and yelled, "Ten more, ladies." The forty tennis shoes started to pick up quicker than before. We were almost finished with our eleventh lap when the principal walked in and took coach Yancey aside. It was obvious that we all wanted to yell, "umm," but we were too winded from running.
We had five laps to go when Coach Yancey yelled for us to stop. Her normal stern face looked scared. We all stopped and took a knee next to her. Her black eye liner was smeared underneath her eye, making it clear that she had been crying. "Girls, something terrible has just happened," she said. We were all huffing in puffing from the long run we just completed, but we were all trying to be as quiet as possible. "A plane has been hijacked and crashed into the twin towers," she said. "I'm not sure what is going on, but it isn't looking good."
We all went into the locker room and got dressed. Nobody was talking; I'm pretty sure none of us truly knew what was going on. We all waited by the door for the bell; however, no bell came. Instead, the principal came on announcing at least twenty names of students whose parents came to pick them up for the day.
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