Thread by @JohnWoodrowCox

Four years ago, I met two extraordinary children. Ava was 7, from rural South Carolina. Tyshaun was 8, from Southeast DC. They didn't know each other or have much in common, but gun violence had ruined both of their lives. This is the story of how they became best friends. (1/)

One afternoon when Ava was in first grade, she walked outside for recess just as a teenager with a gun pulled up in a truck. He opened fire on the playground. Ava dropped her chocolate cupcake and ran.

The shooter killed the boy Ava loved. His name was Jacob. He was 6. (2/)

A few weeks before Jacob was shot, Ava wrote him a note.
“Come play with me please,” she scribbled in pencil. “You can play with my cats. Do you want to get married when you come? My mom will make us lunch.”
Ava called him “Jakey.” He was the only boy she’d ever kissed. (3/)

At Jacob’s funeral, his miniature gray casket was topped with yellow chrysanthemums and a Ninja Turtles figurine. He was dressed in a Batman costume.
Ava couldn’t bear to look at him.
“He’s not really dead, is he?” she whispered to her mother.
“Yes,” her mom said. “He is.” (4/)

Ava’s trauma and loss consumed her. She was angry and afraid and sad. She started hitting herself and yanking out her eyelashes.
She recorded her anguish in her journal:
“I can’t stop feeling mad.”
“No one ever listens to me.”
“I hate guns. I hate that they ruin my life!” (5/)

On a cold morning 6 months after the school shooting in South Carolina, a man in DC was shot five times in a car. That was Tyshaun’s dad, Andrew. Ty wrote him a note in the hospital. “Dad I hope you are ok,” he scribbled, promising to “give up any thing on my body for you.” (6/)

That Sunday, Tyshaun thought of their last weekend together. They had seen “The LEGO Batman Movie,” eaten chicken-flavored instant ramen noodles, Tyshaun’s favorite. They had danced to “Juju on That Beat.” (7/)

That afternoon, his mother got a call. When she hung up, she sat on the couch and held his hands as he stood in front of her. She looked him in the eyes.
“Your father, he died today,” she said, and without a word, Tyshaun slumped to the floor. (8/)

At Jacob’s funeral, his miniature gray casket was topped with yellow chrysanthemums and a Ninja Turtles figurine. He was dressed in a Batman costume.
Ava couldn’t bear to look at him.
“He’s not really dead, is he?” she whispered to her mother.
“Yes,” her mom said. “He is.” (4/)

@ClickingKen Ava’s trauma and loss consumed her. She was angry and afraid and sad. She started hitting herself and yanking out her eyelashes.
She recorded her anguish in her journal:
“I can’t stop feeling mad.”
“No one ever listens to me.”
“I hate guns. I hate that they ruin my life!” (5/)

On a cold morning 6 months after the school shooting in South Carolina, a man in DC was shot five times in a car. That was Tyshaun’s dad, Andrew. Ty wrote him a note in the hospital. “Dad I hope you are ok,” he scribbled, promising to “give up any thing on my body for you.” (6/)

That Sunday, Tyshaun thought of their last weekend together. They had seen “The LEGO Batman Movie,” eaten chicken-flavored instant ramen noodles, Tyshaun’s favorite. They had danced to “Juju on That Beat.” (7/)

That afternoon, his mother got a call. When she hung up, she sat on the couch and held his hands as he stood in front of her. She looked him in the eyes.
“Your father, he died today,” she said, and without a word, Tyshaun slumped to the floor. (8/)

Up in South Carolina, Ava’s mom, Mary, read the story I wrote about Tyshaun for the Post, and when Ava noticed her getting emotional, she asked why. Mary told her a bit about Tyshaun and showed her this picture. Ava decided Tyshaun looked like he needed a friend. (9/)

“I saw your picture and would like to be your penpal,” Ava wrote. “I get sad and mad sometimes too. I am 7 years old. I am in 1st grade. I used to go to Townville Elementary School. I don’t anymore because something scary happened there...Do you like ice cream? I love chocolate!”

“Hi my name is Tyshaun and I am 8,” he wrote back. “I heard about your school. I hope you are having a bless day. Stay strong I’m praying for you. Sure I’ll be your pin pal.” (11/)

On and on the letters went. Tyshaun sent Ava a rainbow-colored stuffed bear; Ava sent Tyshaun miniature polyurethane “squishy” toys she squeezed when she was feeling stressed. Then they started FaceTiming, too. In each other they found friendship, but also something more. (12/)

“We went through the same thing,” Tyshaun told me, “losing somebody that we care about, and we like to chat a lot, and we both know how each other feel when we get emotional and stuff.”

I tell the rest of their story in a new book, CHILDREN UNDER FIRE. Ty and Ava haven't recovered from their trauma. Both still struggle. But they have each other, and amid a gun violence epidemic that's made hope hard to find, their bond gives me some. /end
harpercollins.com/products/child…

If you'd like to hear me talk about Ava, Tyshaun and the other kids whose stories I tell in CHILDREN UNDER FIRE, I'll be joining the great @ddale8 for a virtual conversation on April 19 at 7 p.m. You can register here to listen in and get a signed copy:
phoenixbooks.biz/event/children…