Whew.. that was a lot of walking, I thought as we reached the back doors of the school. My friends and I decided to skip that day and go to the back door, because that’s a big NO on dealing with getting caught by the principal or yard duties. They also brought 2 of their own people with us, which in total made it 5 people including myself. Seeing my friend suddenly snap his neck up made my mind run wild. What was he looking at?  Then I looked up, and what I saw was one of the scariest things I’ve ever saw in my life.

My teacher, Mr. Johnson, was waving at me. Now, in a different context, this was seen as friendly. I enjoyed waving to people. I think it’s even better than saying words sometimes. Just smile and wave, smile and wave… but this waving was filled with an ungodly meaning. I considered waving back, but, typically, that isn’t the best conversation starter when I returned to class the next day. 

So I stood there, desperately wanting the person who opened the door to hurry up and let us get inside. Looking back at it, I think I accidentally pushed my friend. I think I handled that pretty good! On top of the thin layer of sweat plaguing my armpits, it got considerably worse from those terrifying 4 seconds out of the 86,400 seconds of the day. A bead of sweat ran down my face. Everything was fine. No it wasn’t. 

“Guys, I’m going to get in so much trouble! He’s going to call my grandma!” I shrieked. 

“Nah, he’s not. He’s been seeing me skip a lot of times and he’s never said anything.” One of my friends said nonchalantly. 

‘Yeah, but this time might be different.’ I worried.

At this point in time, we decided to hide under the stairs since there was only 10 minutes until lunch. My friends tried distracting me, saying that there was no way he was going to call any of our guardians. I eventually believed them, until the next day. I jokingly asked my friend if Mr. Johnson had called his mom. The laughter from my voice seemed highly innapropriate as the mood shifted. “Yeah, he did call my mom. I was in a lot of trouble when I got home.”

Oh. Well, that’s awkward. I couldn’t do anything but offer verbal support. Then it hit me. 

‘Oh god, that mean’s I’m next. I’m gonna get my phone taken away for so long!’ I thought.

I prayed to God that my grandpa would be the one picking me up today. God answered my prayers and we rode home in a comfortable silence. When I got home, I practically ran to my room and hoped that she didn’t come back there. She thankfully didn’t, but the fear that I had made me never do it again.