Finally Myra.

52.

*Myra's POV*

My chest hurts.

Walking into Mooresville High right now, my chest hurts.

So much has happened in this place.

Meeting literally almost everyone I love, Cheyenne, Mikey, Senior Project, TA'ing, the tutoring program.

The shooting.

My god, I got shot in this school.

Looking around this school, standing at the locker I once stood at every day, sometimes in a wheel chair or on crutches.

"Hey." Drake grabbed my hand. "You OK?"

I took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm OK. There's just uh-"

"Why don't I take Layton to meet coach Humphry. But My, summer school, there may be a class."

"Thank you babe." I leaned over and kissed him.

He rubbed my shoulder and picked Layton up. "Come on my man, lets go meet the guy who helped me play football."

"He help me play?" Layton tilted his head.

"I will help you." Drake smiled as they headed down the hall.

Me however, I took the largest breath I could and slowly walked to the computer science lab.

They've changed the tile schemes of the school since we graduated.

And they've painted all the walls a light shade of gray.

The lay out of the room is still the same, which is why the first place I went was right to the center desk in the front row, and I sat down.

It's been 4 years since I sat in this room.

I think I sat here for 10 minutes until the door opened. "Alright class, now that- I'm sorry, we're not-"

I turned around and Mr. Jones eyebrows raised, and he let out a small smile. "Myra Rumford." He nodded.

I stood up and smiled. "Hi Mr. Jones." I waved. "Sorry, I was just-"

"You're welcome to stay." He walked toward the front of the room. "Class, this is Myra Rumford. She used to be a student here a few years ago." He motioned me toward the front of the classroom.

I walked to the front while the class sat down.

"Rumford?" One of them gave me a look.

I nodded.

"You're the girl that got shot." Another boy pursed his lips.

"I am." I nodded. "Right there actually." I pointed in front of the first desk on the left.

"And you won golden gloves less than a year after." Another smiled.

I pursed my lips. "That I did."

"Did you ever make a career out of boxing?"

"Class, this-"

"Actually Mr. Jones, it's OK." I nodded. "They can ask."

"You sure?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I see the giant stack of papers. Go ahead and grade." I let out a small smile.

"The answer is no. I did not make a career out of boxing." I jumped up on Mr. Jones desk.

"Why?"

"Because after I was shot, I had a lot of risks and restrictions. I have a rod in my leg, and up until 3 years ago, I had a bullet in my ribs. And, after being shot, another surgery if something happened wasn't something I could put my family through again."

"Did you ever learn why that kid shot you?" Another cleared his throat.

"He uh, he wasn't trying to shoot me." I shook my head. "The gun, was aimed another kid, and, I jumped." I sighed. "Do you just want me to talk about what has happened since and what I learned? What it was like?"

And let me tell you, every single kid in this class sat at full attention.

"How come you can't do that when I'm teaching?" Jones piped in from behind me.

"You didn't get shot." One kid shrugged.

I let out a small laugh and nodded. "First things first, jumping in front of a gun, -100/10, don't recommend, kind of hurts. Second, that kid, his name was Michael. And he was actually one of my bestfriends. I just visited his grave yesterday. You see, he was bullied, really badly for being gay, and just, not your normal run of the mill guy. But he was incredible. Best in this class, such a talented artist, and such a free spirit. But the people around him, they made him hate himself. So truth be told, he had every intention of firing the gun that day, just not at me. A few people, but most importantly himself. I wouldn't change what happened that day because he didn't die a killer. I've never held a single amount of hatred in my heart for him, and I never will. But something I want you guys to understand, it costs nothing to be kind to people. The things you say and do to people, they matter." I nodded and looked around the room. "Every time I tell this story, I say the same thing. This entire situation could've been prevented, and he would still be here, with simply an apology, a few kind words, and a conversation."

"That is true Miss Rumford." I heard from the back of the class room.

My head shot up and there was Principal Truman.

I smiled. "Hello."

He gave me a small smile, a nod, and walked up to the front of the class room. "Everything this girl has said is true." He looked around the room. "And for those of you who don't know, our Fall Showcase, the proceeds go in to a fund called the Mikey's Relief Fund?"

The class all nodded.

"That is her and her friend Lacey's charity, that they started 4 years ago because of what happened in this room. They took a tragedy, and they made it mean something. They've made a difference to a lot of people to prevent something like this from happening. It started as a senior project, but they've made it so much more. A lot have people have benefitted from the proceeds of their cause, and a lot of school faculty, including ours, have taken part in the training on how to deal with bullies in the schools. This girl, and her friend, they've made the impact most people strive to."

"And she still is." Drake came walking in to the room.

"Mama." Layton smiled as Drake put him down and he ran up to me.

"Well would you look at that." Truman smiled.

"You guys still want to know what's happened since because of the shooting?" I picked him up.

Jones put his papers down and kicked back in his chair. "I sure do." He smiled.

"After the shooting, Lacey and I started the plans for the charity and the first Mikey's Relief Benefit. And doing all that, lead me to want to go to school for business. I ran all the numbers, calculated the costs, Lacey did all the advertising and supplying, and her and I, we ended up opening a café in Minnesota called Laytons."

"I Layton." He raised his hand.

"Awe." One of the girls pouted.

"This, is my son Layton. And that." I pointed to the back of the class room. "Is my boyfriend Drake. Who also went to school here."

"Wait, what do you do?" One of the kids turned around.

Drake raised his eyebrows. "I'm uh-"

"He's an architect." I nodded. "And he is currently designing a beautiful home."

"I'd like to go in to architecture." One boy raised his hand.

"Drake, care to speak?" Jones smiled.

Drake walked to the front of the class room. "First things first, can you draw a straight line."

And for the rest of the day, we sat in this classroom, talking about our lives, giving advice, so on.

And it was a wonderful day.