First grade was frustrating. Some kid always sleeping through the day and not being able to wake him up. Me, being the shy kid who hated getting into trouble and the “so not fun to hang out with us” person. Plus, pretty much my only friends were a girl named Lily, my teacher Mrs. P, and some books. One day, like any other, I was sitting against a wall on Mark Twain Elementary School, reading a Judy Moody book. I would look up sometimes to watch everyone else having fun and running around with all their friends. Lily came up and sat against the wall with me, taking out a book of her own. Even though she didn’t like to read, she knew I didn’t want to talk so she just sat silently and read. Dane and Andrew, who I call friends because I know them and they know me, asked us if we wanted to play. Lily said yes, but I didn’t say anything and started picking my nails in a silent attempt to make them go away. Lily took the hint and told them that I wanted to be alone, and they left. After reading a little bit more, some “cool girls” walked past me, snickering. What’s their problem? I thought, but brushed it off. Mrs. P saw me and started to strut over but I didn’t acknowledge her at all.
“Hello Emily!” she stated loudly. I kept quiet, hoping that maybe she would stay and keep me company, but not talk. She stood by the wall and asked, “Why don’t you play with your friends too?”
I didn’t say anything for a minute or two before I said, “No thank you.” Mrs. P left right after that. Not even a minute after Mrs. P left, the “cool girls” from before were suddenly in front of me. One girl started kicking my foot lightly, trying to get my attention. After a while, the other girl sighed and took my book.
“Can I have that back, please?” I whispered.
“No! You have to pay attention to us, not your stupid book!” she spat. She held my book high into the air so that I would have to get up and get it. I begrudgingly stood up and they instantly burst into laughter.  I was so confused, but when I turned around, I saw a huge spider inches from my face. I let out a little squeak before I turned to run, slamming straight into the girl with my book, and knocking us both over.
“Sorry,” I managed to say while wiping off the dirt from my Dora the Explorer shirt and overalls. She just glared at me while she whispered something to her friend. I saw that my book was still in her hand and I tried to reach for it.
“Oh no you don’t!” she practically screamed. I froze when I saw some kids stare at us, but then looked away to continue their games. She started teasing me, calling me “shy girl”. I just stayed silent, not retaliating to any insult she threw at me. Eventually, she started to walk away, with my book still in hand. I ran up to her and tried to take it back, but instead she smirked and pushed me, straight into a mud pile.  I looked down and instantly started sobbing. She dropped the book into the grass and ran away, with her friend not two inches behind her. Mrs. P came running with her stubby legs and Dane, Andrew, and Lily right behind her. They helped me out of the mud and Mrs. P picked up my book, leading me inside the school.
Once Mrs. P and I were inside the school and she had called my mom for different clothes, recess was over and everyone was in their seats. When I came back to the classroom, everyone was staring at me and whispering secretly to each other, like I was the weak outcast, not allowed to know what it was like inside the herd.
“Who pushed you into the mud, Emily?” Mrs. P asked, startling me. I looked down and said nothing. “Emily. Who did it?” she asked again gently. I silently looked up and started to raise my finger, to point at the girl who pushed me, but froze when I saw her intense glare. Mrs. P saw where my half curled finger and gaze were leading to and she told me to sit down.
  After school, Mrs. P stopped the girl and I before we could get out the door of the classroom.
“Emily, did she do it?” Mrs. P questioned. I looked at Mrs. P, then at the girl, and bolted outside to my mom’s car.
“What’s wrong?” my mom said while she wiped away tears that I didn’t know I had cried.
“I’m fine,” I muffled out.
When I came to school the next day, the girl wasn’t there. Where is she? I wondered. Mrs. P pulled me aside for a talk and said, “Even though you didn’t say anything, your actions told me that she was the one that pushed you into the mud. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. Now, go back to your seat.” As I walked back to my seat, a smile crept onto my face. Even though I feel guilty for getting her into trouble, she kind of deserved it for pushing me, I thought as I sat in my seat. Who knew that actions could speak louder than words?