“Special. Each and every one of you are special. Special,” Mrs. Whitefield announces to the class.

“Special,” I whisper to myself as I struggle to remember each letter of the word, putting them in place in my head. I can feel the sun’s warm rays shining in from the window behind me. Why are spelling tests so important? They’re so boring. I never remember the words after anyways.

When I finish writing the word with I feel something nudge the top of my foot. I peak my head around my test board to see Haley and her long, dirty blond hair sitting across from me. Did she mean to kick me? Or was that an accident? On instinct, I nudge her back with my strap on navy blue shoes.

“Is every one finished?” Mrs. Whitefield asks.

“Yes,” the class answers in unison.

“Number six is cooperate. It’s hard to get my dog to cooperate.” I quickly scribble down the word. I feel Haley nudge me again. I nudge her back.

A wide grin spreads across my mischievous face as energy floods through me. The same energy I feel when I play in the tire shreds at recess. This is fun. Haley nudges me harder this time. Of course, I kicked her harder, and she responds with equal power.

I hear Haley giggle witch only sparks laughter within me, too. I glance over to make sure the teacher or anyone else didn’t see me. Mrs. Whitfield interrupts our giggle fest with another word. 

“Number seven is research.” I don’t even wait for the sentence and write as fast as I can on the thin loose leaf paper sitting in front of me. I know Haley beat me when she kicks me first. I kick her back, just as I hear Mrs. Whitfield’s booming voice break through my ears. “Paige Taylor. What are you doing? Did I just see you kick Haley?” I’m speechless. Kick her? Yes, but it was just a game, and we were just playing. My mind races. Mrs. Whitefield’s soul shattering stare makes my stomach drop. Disbelief spreads through me. She would never believe me. All I could muster in response was a small nod of my head.

“My desk. Now. You’ll take the rest of the test there. You have lunch buddies tomorrow with Deacon,” she bellows. In shame and shock, I take my test and trudge over to her desk. LUNCH BUDDIES. My mind races. I can feel the stares and break into goose bumps, as the whole second grade class turns to look at me in curiosity.
Didn’t Mrs. Whitfield see Haley, too? She had too. It wasn’t just me, I scream in my head. Panic seeps in. This isn’t fair. What if Mommy and Daddy find out? How can I face Deacon Brooks alone. Fear spreads through me as I realize the embarrassment I’m going to feel walking the line in front of the big kids. What will they think of me? What will Deacon do? All I want is for everything to be over.

Looking back, I realize that I was like any little second grader. I was terrified at the very idea of lunch buddies and Deacon Brooks. I never liked being in trouble. There was no one to help, no one to comfort me. I guess that’s the point of lunch buddies, to scare us into never getting in trouble. But Deacon taught me a valuable lesson that day. If you want to get away with something you shouldn’t, don’t get caught.