That morning I was skipping class to hang out in the band room. I used to pretend it was legit by calling it a 'lesson' but I was never there to learn. Maybe I had my oboe with me, maybe I didn't. Maybe I was goofing off on one of the pianos in the back room. What I do remember is that the previous spring on the annual chorus trip to NYC my friend Amanda and I had bought matching gray t-shirts with 'New York City' embroidered on them and by chance we'd both worn the shirts that day--September 11th, 2001. An hour earlier when we'd noticed that we matched, we'd laughed about great minds thinking alike, joked about it feeling like a day for a city. When our principal's voice--even grimmer that day than it usually was--came over the loudspeaker I remember looking down at the writing on my shirt and thinking 'Shit. Amanda and I broke the city.' I just wanted to go home.
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