Guest Contributor- Liam Price
The Weirdness of Being 13
Being a 13-year-old boy is weird. Hair grows everywhere, you think everyone is judging you at school, and you’re scared that your mom will go on your computer and start checking your browser history.
The One Thought That Keeps Me From Freaking Out
Every day after February 18, 2023, I have to remind myself: “All my family members, friends, favorite celebrities, athletes, and myself are not going to die for a very long time.”
People might think, “Oh, how caring! He’s putting himself after everyone else.”
I don’t want to have to say that, but I have to in order to reassure myself that everything is going to be okay—to convince myself that I don’t have to relive waking up to a scream, seeing my mother crying on the steps in front of two police officers whose only job that hour was to break the news that my father was killed in a car accident the night before.
A Different Kind of Addiction
Most kids my age are addicted to vaping, weed, and Call of Duty. I’m addicted to saying that phrase in my head every day. Whether I’m working out, up at bat, in the middle of class, or even writing this right now—if I don’t say it, my world goes to shit.
Maybe it’s like pre-ordering life? Eventually, it’s going to happen to my loved ones, but I might as well reassure myself that it won’t happen right this second.
A Lesson in Investing
Right before he died, my dad told me, “Liam, if I died right this second, the last thing I would say to you is to invest.”
…Welp, maybe he had a psychic side hustle.
I’ve dedicated my life to that saying. A year before it all happened, he made me a Fidelity Youth Account, and in his honor, I’ve dedicated my time and effort to preserving and growing that account every market day. Going above and beyond, I’ve dived into in-depth knowledge of the world’s markets and data trends. I don’t just think about that quote; I live and breathe through it.
Investing in More Than Just Stocks
I don’t get why kids sit in the back row of classes. You’re not paying for a seat. Obviously, kids my age would rather pay for a closer seat at a Travis Scott concert than sit in the front of a classroom. But then again, why do we pay for front-row seats? We don’t. We invest in them—for a better experience, a more memorable moment.
Obviously, my dad meant the stock market when he said that, but at the end of the day, I use that quote to push myself to invest in something that’s going to keep me up to speed, something that’s going to make me forget that my life is different from other 15-year-olds. Maybe I should invest in protein bars to keep me lean and locked in for baseball season. If I’m in good shape, the feeling of the ball pelting off the bat doesn’t come close to the feeling most teens get from skipping class to hit a cart.
Why Do I Have to Be Different?
But why would I want to be different? Why do I have to be the kid in the backseat getting a ride home from practice because my mom works two jobs and can’t make it? Why do I have to listen to my teammate and his dad talk baseball in the front seats—like me and my dad used to do?
That’s just how life goes, I guess.
I keep comparing myself to kids with fathers. I wish I could tell my dad how far I hit that ball. I wish I could tell him that I was up 15% in the market but him not being here gives me motivation to be better than he ever was. Even though I feel it’s impossible, it reminds me to lock in, stay humble and don’t let anyone talk you down just because you like thinking outside the box.
A Passenger in Life’s Unfairness
At the end of the day, I’m still the same kid. The same person who just wants to retire his mom. All because of one thing…
Will Price was not driving the car that night. He was a passenger. He was living the experience; nothing was under his control. He couldn’t prevent the lithium battery from exploding. He couldn’t stop his body from ending up in a cremation facility a week later.
What if he never met the friend that was driving? What if they had taken another route?
My mom never deserved to get a second job. My dad never deserved to be burned into ash and sit on a dresser for the rest of my life. But I guess that’s the way life goes.
Finding Meaning in the Unfairness
Investing time listening to my favorite songs, like “Apple Pie“, by Travis Scott and “Dark Queen“, by Lil Uzi Vert, is crucial—because it might just be the last time I ever hear it. You’d think that would scare me. But it doesn’t. It motivates me. It reminds me that my time will come eventually, so I might as well enjoy the things I love rather than waste my life following the crowd or falling back into a depressive state.
Honoring My Dad’s Legacy
On February 17, 2023, I would’ve never thought that was the last time I’d say goodbye to my dad before heading to school—something I had done thousands of times.
So, I force myself to think about how lucky I was to even have a dad. Someone who would dig his bare hands into pond sludge just to retrieve a missing flip-flop. Someone who still managed to get me to preschool after slipping on ice and spraining his ankle.
Those memories—the hilarious ones, the painful ones, the ones that remind me of everything he was—motivate me to never quit trying to retire my mom.
Because he never quit on anyone.
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