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White Lies This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.


   My feet barely touched the carpeted floor as mylegs dangled, swinging back and forth from the armless brown chair. Not knowingwhat the principal was going to say, I prepared an answer in my head.

Whyhad I been running in the "playground" (also known as the parking lot)?Why weren't we allowed to run, anyway? Those were just a couple of the questionsthat raced through my mind.

Typing at her desk, the secretary attemptedto start a conversation, asking the normal adult questions: "Do you likeschool?" "What grade are you in?" I, being anxious and notinterested in talking to her, gave one-word answers.

Then it happened.She asked about my dad. She asked what he did for a living. This may not seemlike a big deal to most people, but it always was to me. I never really knew whatmy dad did so, having quite the imagination, I replied, "He playsbasketball. For the Celtics," I added, convincingly. I mean, why wouldn'tshe believe me?

Naturally, her next question was, "What number ishe?" I was stumped. Thinking for a moment, one number stuck out - 00, RobertParish's number. I always loved that number because of its uniqueness. Thesecretary just looked at me, speechless.

Suddenly, the door to theprincipal's office swung open, revealing the woman everyone referred to as TheWitch. I was actually relieved that I did not have to answer any more questions.

I finally saw the woman I had feared for so long. Was she really thatbad? To my surprise, her office was painted a sunshine-yellow and decorated withblack and white photographs. She must have sensed my amazement because shesauntered toward the pictures. She explained who the people were, and I learnedthat she actually had a family and was a kid once, just like me, who enjoyedhorseback riding and normal little-girl things.

She asked how my familywas and said she knew me when I was only a few weeks old. Not caring aboutanything else at that point, all I could think of was how I might not get introuble now since she knew my mom.

She cleaned the cut on my knee,telling me to be more careful, and reminded me of the rules of the playground,without giving me a detention. All the playground rumors of the witch who no oneever saw were now erased from my mind.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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