The Third Day…

…a day in middle school

I was in 8th grade. I went to [what was then called] Charles E. Nichols Middle School…affectionately just, “Nichols”.

8th grade was aight. I didn’t have one fight, but I did have a few mitches I couldn’t stand. I had my “crew”…but, I remember by year’s end…we were barely friends anymore. I don’t remember much good about that year. I mean, I survived it.

…our friend Hilary Spruill, however…did not.

I remember being in the gym. Us girls were in the locker room and my play cousin came and told us (in tears) that our friend Hilary had been shot and died. Come to find out…she was with him. They’d been mugged for their coats and I can’t quite remember if Hilary just gave his up or not, but he lost his life over a leather bomber.

We wept for days…

I remembered that…even though I wasn’t super close with him, he was so cool. I remembered an instance where some guy was harassing me in the hallway and Hilary came up and said, “Yo, leave my cousin alone…” and stuck up for me. He asked if I was okay and I said yes and thanked him. He told me that if anyone bothered me for me to tell him. I never forgot that. He barely knew me other than knowing my face around the way…but, he cared.

He wouldn’t be the last friend we lost to violence. We’d unfortunately lose several more friends through High School. A few by gun violence…a couple to sickness…one or two to accidents. I remember far too many deaths for my teen years.

Anyway, yea…that’s my middle school memory. I’ll try to lighten up my HS memory.

*sniffles*