His Name was Danny Baker

[ i. Ellie ]

[ i. Ellie ]

On the second to last day of Junior Year, I wasn't known as anybody; just a quiet girl who blended into the background. I didn't talk to anyone, eating lunch by myself in the library.

On the second to last day of high school, I went home and heard from my father, the editor of Juncane Daily, that a boy from my school had overdosed on antidepressants.

On the last day of school, I wanted to be noticed. I pulled off stunt after stunt on that day. Harmless, but it leaves an impression when the quietest girl in school marches into the guy's locker room, finds the QB of the star football team, and kisses him for 15 seconds straight.

I can tell you right now that he enjoyed it. As did the bystanders in the locker room who wolf-whistled at us when I ran away at the end.

But, that was my point. To make a lasting impression and then subsequently vanish for awhile to see if anyone noticed.

His name was Danny Baker. He did something that got him attention - on the announcements and the news and then vanished from everyone's thoughts in an instant. No one at that stupid school actually cared as to what happened to a quiet kid who decided that living was worse than death.

So, on my first day of would-have-been high school in Juncane, I was tanning by the pool in Rainy London. I was sipping a pina colada and getting my tan on. I had my earbuds in blaring Bo$$ by Fifth Harmony while I read Looking For Alaska by John Green. It was a very nice feeling to have. Back at home, I had my father and the school help me with my social experiment. I had two weeks in London. My father would run the news in the paper - 132 words and a picture - including the part of my junior year prank. The school would announce, as they did with Danny Baker, my death and would offer counseling.

After two weeks, I would return home, and pray no one would notice.

Because then I would have the pleasure of standing in front of the entire high school, and telling them what a bunch of horrible people they are.

Because when someone or something dies, you never get it back.

Because when Danny Baker left, no one cared all that much. No one went to get counseling, no one talked about it, no one even tried to create rumors on why he killed himself. He just... left.

I needed to do this experiment because his name was Danny Baker and no one knew that.

Because you can't make a mistake twice. The second time you make it, it becomes a choice.

I couldn't let my death, or any deaths following Danny Baker's, be a choice.