I was 13 years old, two months into my freshman year in High School; I was the youngest kid in school.
My mechanical drafting class was given a surprise drawing test.
The following day I was told to report to the Admin Office.
All kinds of shit was going through my head. My mother ran away when I was four. My Uncle was killed in a jeep accident when I was ten. My father was killed in a car accident on Christmas Eve when I was eleven years old. My brother was hospitalized with a heart murmur when I was twelve.
I hate phone calls in the middle of the night – they never have good news. And I equally dislike being told to report to the principal's office – again, it is never good news.
At the Admin Office, my counselor grabbed my arm and took me to a room and told me to wait there.
Teachers came into the room and lectured me about the pitfalls of cheating and the consequences.
They finger pointed me, they ugly faced me, some grumbled words I didn't understand then snickered to one another.
I was innocent, but how do I prove it?