She rolls it across the desk. Back and forth in-between her wrinkled hands.
Detention, the only class Mrs. Smith seems to teach and the only class I seem to be taking.
I hate her.
I imagine taking a great sword, cutting her down like a prince would an evil dragon. But violence never solved anything and my parents would slay me if I got expelled, again.
She stands up, walking to the hall to say goodbye to a few teachers leaving.
It’s my time, my moment.
I jump up, head to the desk and lick the apple.
Take that Granny!
Copyright © 2019 by Elly. V All rights reserved. This story and any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.