Clearly I am a dreamer. I gaze out at the window, wishing I was anywhere but here, the office of Mr. Gonzales, Principle of Thornsberry Academy. I look at his cherry pine desk, the photographs of his children smiling at me. As if taunting me whispering "Your in trouble with my father." I grimace as the strong sent of aftershave finds it's way into my nostrils.
He is here. I force myself not to look at him, "Elena," his deep voice thunders. I say nothing, waiting for the punishment. "Young lady, I'm afraid this time you've really done it." he says sighing, as he sinks into his big office chair. "I didn't do anything! I didn't copy anything, it's truly my writing," I spat angrliy. I sat there fuming, no one at this school truly believed that I wrote that paper. Except Mrs. Clayton
.... To be continued ..