I saw Brendan Fear enter the restaurant where I worked with some of his friends, but I had no idea how much my life would change that night. While I was wiping a table, my eyes followed him as he led his three friends down the narrow hallway to a private booth at the back. How could such a normal scene end in all that horror – even murder? I knew the kids who were with Brendan. We don’t hang out in the same groups, but we are all seniors at Seaside High School. Ha! Groups. Sounds like a joke. Let me be honest. I have a few good friends, but not a whole group. My name is Rachel Martin and I’m seventeen. After school, I work as a waitress at Lefties, a hangout a few blocks from the high school. And yes, it’s a bit awkward to serve kids I see all day at school. Although I’m probably the only one who thinks about it. No one else comments or teases me about it. Still, there are times I feel uncomfortable.

I would say I’m not the most laid-back person on the planet. Mom says I’m tighter than tennis racket strings. My sister, Beth, insists that’s not true. She says I’m just sensitive. What’s certain is that I miss Beth. In September, she went to Oberlin. She won a scholarship to study flute. She’s the smart and talented one in the family. We’ve always had a very close relationship. She said we’d talk on Skype every night. But I haven’t heard from her in weeks. The kitchen bell rang, signaling that an order was ready. I gathered some plates from the table and squeezed between the kids at the counter to get to the kitchen. Lefties is small and always warm and steamy, no matter the weather outside. When I get home after work, I have to shower for a long time to wash off the greasy smell of hamburgers and fries from my skin and hair.