Just Go For It

It was supposed to be a regular day at Batesville High School. An easy day, considering I only had two classes that afternoon—perks of being a senior. Spring break was right around the corner, so I was counting down the days until I got my time away from school. With all the life-changing decisions I had to make soon, like where I would go to college, what degree I would pursue, and ultimately what I would do with my life, a break sounded like the best thing in the world. And soon, I would get it. For now, I’m stuck in Coach Fowler’s second-period class, where I spend most of my time trying to avoid whatever work was due that week. Instead of doing my work in his class, I usually spent the class period laughing with my two friends, Peyton Fowler and Lane Lambert. That day, we were probably procrastinating whatever homework was due before spring break. March was the time of the year when most seniors began to fall off—skipping class and turning in assignments late. Some of my classmates weren’t even there that day, which didn’t surprise me at all. But boy, were they going to miss out on one eventful day. Peyton became oddly quiet in the middle of whatever joke we had rolling around in our conversation. He started fixating hard on the screen of his phone. He looked at his electronic device with a puzzled look on his face, almost as if he’d seen some terrible news. And while it seemed like something was happening, my friend wasn’t telling us about it. “What’s wrong, bro?” I asked, concerned. Peyton wasn’t the type of person to be shaken up by many things, but whatever he’d seen was bothering him. With a confused look, he answered, “I don’t know why, but a few friends from my hometown just texted me and said they just got sent home from school. Spring break is starting early for them”. What? I thought to myself. My stomach dropped at that moment. That was not the response I was expecting to hear from my friend. If one school does something in Arkansas, other schools tend to follow. “Why is that?” I responded. Before Peyton could acknowledge my question, he was interrupted by a classmate in the back of the room. “My mom just texted me and said we’re probably about to get sent home,” she said to the class. Chatter started whispering around the room. Um, again, why? I thought to myself. Before I could finish my thought, my phone started buzzing with notifications. There was my answer. My Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook were blowing up with alerts about all the school districts in the state beginning to shut down. I started scrolling through all of these notifications on my home screen. Whenever I noticed an alert from our local news station, I paused. I clicked it. A news article popped up with a big title: First’ presumptive case’ of coronavirus in Arkansas forces college closure—KAIT8. “Lane, this is a joke. Right?” I said to my friend as I showed him my phone. Over the past few weeks, I’ve seen multiple jokes about the coronavirus on social media platforms. Some people were highly disturbed about it; others could care less. I honestly never put much thought into it. “I don’t think they would joke about that,” he replied. Slowly, we read through this article, which stated that the governor declared a public health emergency in the state. Apparently, the coronavirus had made its way to the University of Arkansas at Pine Bluff, where a student tested positive for it. “Can I see that?” Peyton said. Others in the classroom looked over his shoulder as he read it. Before I knew it, the article on my phone was passed around the entire room, and we were having a class-wide discussion about what was happening in the world. And soon, twenty-something seventeen and eighteen-year-olds were giving their opinions on the crisis at hand. Coach Fowler heard the chatter and shut it down. “Everyone, please stop. In 2010, H1N1 started spreading worldwide, and I heard the same stuff. It’s not that big of a deal. I bet this virus will make its way here and die out like all the others I’ve seen in my lifetime. We’ll probably finish out the week, then go on spring break. Relax”. Seconds after making such a bold statement, Coach Fowler’s phone rang. He looked down to see what I presumed to be a message. He gave us a “Give me a second” and sat down at his desk following the alert. “I bet we’ll get sent home,” Lane said. He laughed. I laughed along with him, but my humor was undoubtedly fake. What if we actually get sent home? I thought to myself. I felt an awful sense of uncertainty in that classroom. A strange feeling of discomfort overwhelmed my emotions. As the period began to unfold, I wondered how all of this was going to affect me. I had big goals for the next few weeks. With track season only a few days away, my goal to win a state championship in the 1600-meter run was about to begin. In the coming weeks, I was scheduled to visit the campuses of a few different colleges for basketball. Hopefully, on those visits, I’d finally decide which college I would attend. Now that I think about it, the next few weeks of my life were crucial for my future. Sure, I had options, but I honestly had no idea what direction I was going. Then, bam! Coach Fowler got up from his desk. “Well, I lied. If you can drive, the school district has asked that you please vacate the premises. Apparently, this thing is spreading faster than we thought”.