Red is for Revenge | Teen Ink

Red is for Revenge

December 26, 2023
By PihuSahai SILVER, Saint Joseph, Michigan
PihuSahai SILVER, Saint Joseph, Michigan
6 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I still remember the morning in third grade when my friend Taylor and I were sitting at the circular table, completing our daily ritual of arguing. Taylor wanted my sparkly, red pencil, but I wouldn’t give it to her. Out of the corner of my eye, I could feel her angry gaze piercing into me as I protectively clutched my precious pencil in my fist. I could tell she wanted to mentally battle me as we listened to our teacher give homework instructions. Or everyone else was listening. I was doing what I did best: zoning out.

We were learning about 3D shapes and our assignment was to make a cube from colorful index cards. I wasn’t paying attention, so I didn’t know exactly what we were doing. I asked Taylor, who told me we just draw the cubes in our math notebooks. Not only was this a lie, but a perfect plan for revenge. Naive little me believed her, just like everything else she used to say.

That night, I worked hard on my drawings, excited for school the next day and getting some positive recognition from my teacher. But when I walked into class, I noticed everyone had colorful models of cubes that looked like little dollhouses, with tiny ceilings and short walls. Immediately, I confronted Taylor, who was parading her pretty cube around the class.

An evil smile appeared on her face as she sarcastically said, “Maybe that red pencil distracted you from listening. Should’ve given it to me. I would’ve taken great care of it.” My jaw dropped. The audacity. Even though I wanted to, I didn’t have time to yell at her because just then, my teacher walked up to me, asking where my project was. Hanging my head in shame, I showed her what work I did have: six measly pencil-drawn cubes on a random page in my math notebook. Disappointed, she shook her head, told me to sit back down, and said she would have a chat with me later; a common dread among students, as she was infamously harsh.

After Taylor embarrassed me, I slumped in my seat and sobbed like a baby. But then, an idea quickly formed in my head: Maybe I’d just give her the pencil since she wanted it so badly. I planned to leave it on her desk after recess, along with her pretty cube… scribbled all over in red.


The author's comments:

This piece is a mini-memoir, exploding a simple moment in the third grade. I believe everyone can relate somewhat to this event and I think they'll find it funny :).


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