Detention

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I don’t know why I always get detention; it’s not fun. But, somehow, I always try to get it! All we do is sit in a hot, cramped classroom and watch the clock slowly tick by. If we try to do our homework, it gets ripped right out of our hands and we get another detention. We always get stuck with this really old, mean teacher. He is pretty short and walks with a limp and for some strange reason out of everyone there, I am his least favorite student. The football players will throw paper balls that wiz right past him, but he doesn’t notice. The girls in the corner talk so loud that teachers in the rooms next to us will come in and complain, but that doesn’t bother him. I could just be sitting there, and that’s me doing something wrong.
Last week, some boy, who was sitting to my left, broke his pencil in half making a loud crack, and I got another detention for it. When I walked in today, I was given another one because I was five seconds late. Five seconds!
When the clock finally reached 3:05, we were let out. All the other kids ran out as soon as the first bell rang. I waited to get up and go until the last kid left the room. By the time I got out of there, the hallway was empty. I started walking towards the exit, in my slow pace. My shoes were the only things making noise. The noise bounced off the walls, echoing through out the hallway.
I stepped outside into the cool October afternoon, leaves blowing everywhere. With my head bowed, I started my journey home. The roads were unusually busy. Cars were flying, making it even more windy than normal. I found a rock on the side of the road and kicked it, watching it skid across the road, until I got to my street. I dragged my feet up the path to my house and heard a loud shatter, like glass breaking. Then I heard loud voices coming from inside; I winced. Shatter. Now I remember why I get detention.





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