I cock my arm and launch the red projectile into the air. It crashes down onto the tan linoleum. Emma and I laugh as I retrieve the small clump of wax from the floor. I scamper to the door to see Ms. Gamm, our fourth grade teacher, is still talking to another teacher. Then I plop down into my seat.

“Ms. Gamm’s still talking,” I whisper to Emma. She glances toward the door to make sure, then flings the wax from her Babybel cheese she ate for lunch towards the white ceiling. It trails through the air silently, then rockets back down and sticks to the floor with a barely audible “thack.” We both laugh as quietly as we can. I snatch the wax off of the floor then examine the ceiling and think to myself Will this stick? I lean over to Emma.

“Watch this!” I whisper. I sling the wax up, and it collides with the ceiling. I hold my hands out to catch it, but it doesn’t fall. I look up at the splotch of red. All of the punishments that I may receive run through my head. I whip my head toward the open door. Ms. Gamm slips into the classroom. What if she sees it? Will I get lunch buddies? I frantically turn to my desk and act like I am working hard. Ms. Gamm passes Emma and me. She walks right under the wax. I hold my breath and clench my eyes shut.

I turn my head to the side so I can see Ms. Gamm’s desk. She is not there. Where is she? I listen to the muffled sounds of the school. I don’t hear her talking. Is she looking at the wax? Where is she?

“David.” Oh no. I turn around and look up at Ms. Gamm. She’s not looking at the wax, but did she see it?
“Yes?” I mumble.
“What are you doing?” she questions, looking at my crinkled blank page.
“Umm, working on math?” I ask her.
“Is that what I asked you to do?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. Oh darn, wrong answer.
“Yes,” I say, determined to act like I know what I am doing.
“Well, Why aren’t you doing it?” she presses.
“Okay,” I reply as I turn around to my blank page. The rest of the day, I glance at the wax when I think no one is looking. I pray for it to fall down. Whenever Ms. Gamm is out of the room, I throw my jacket at the wax. I can’t manage to knock the wax off of the the ceiling. The end of the school day arrives at last.

The next morning, I glance up at the wax. It is still clinging to the rough ceiling for dear life. I duck back through the green doorway and scan the green and white walled hallway to see Ms. Gamm having a conversation with Mrs. Delp about lunches. I leap to my desk and scramble to find a projectile. I spot Colin’s coat. I step over to Colin and ask him “Can I see your coat for a second?”

I grab his coat before he responds and sling it at the wax.“David!” Colin shouts as he springs out of his seat and juts his arm out to grab the coat.

He snatches it out of the air and sits back down. I fall into my seat as Ms. Gamm shuffles into the room. Did she see me? Is she going to see the wax? She walks past me and to the front of the room and looks into her math book. She turns around to answer a question.  This is my chance. I steal Colin’s glove and gaze at my target. The glove is soft in my hand as I toss it at the wax. It hits beside it and I can only watch as its threads catch onto the ceiling. Seriously! I sit back down quietly and look at Colin. He gives me a dirty look and glances longingly at his black glove. I bend the other way and watch as people start noticing. They whisper to their neighbors which whisper to their neighbors. 

The chain reaction creeps down the light and dark brown desks to Ms. Gamm. I'm going to get caught, mom and dad will be so mad are the only things I think. I can barely keep from bolting out of the room as Bella shouts, as if she is happy to ruin my day, “There’s a glove on the ceiling!”

I sink into my blue seat. I want to crawl into my desk and never come out. Ms. Gamm slowly turns around and looks directly over me to see that there is a glove stuck to the ceiling.

“Who did this?’ she says as she inspects every face in the stuffy the room. Well, I might as well die truthfully I think as I raise my hand. She looks at me and seems to contemplate what to do. She probably hasn’t had a glove stuck to the ceiling before, I think to myself.

“David, come here,” she says as she heads to the hallway.  I stand up and shuffle into the hallway with everyone watching me. Tears run down my pale face as she gives me a lecture about making good choices and that throwing things at the ceiling is a bad choice.

I stumble back into room, half blinded by my tears. I face the crucifix for the lunch prayer. We pray and as I dig through my backpack for my lunchbox, Ms. Gamm reminds me that I have lunch buddies. I have to eat lunch with the dearly beloved Deacon Brooks. I am very nervous as I shuffle to the lunch-buddies table. I eat my lunch while choking back tears.

After lunch, we march to art class. I sit down as Mrs. Dunstedter announces we will be playing with clay. I hop up to collect my grey blob and sit back down. As I knead the ball, I glance at the ceiling and think, Will this stick?