Originally posted on March 6, 2017 by Gordon Savage
Knowing that arguing or complaining about her ”sentence” would gain her nothing, Samantha gathered her cleaning supplies together and walked to the school on Saturday morning to start her punishment.
When I left home that morning, I was livid. Mom had offered to drive me, but the distance was less than my daily run. So I walked, and it cleared my head. I was still angry, but I made up my mind to get the job done as quickly as I could.
Dr. Ashworth was in his office. I briefly considered trying one more time to convince him I hadn’t done it, but I knew he would ignore any logic, like why would I sign something like that if I had done it. Instead, I checked in, showed him my supplies, and headed out front. On my way out I got a bucket and brush from the custodian’s closet.
What I hadn’t expected was an audience. At least thirty kids from the school had showed up while I was inside. I hadn’t noticed, but their cars had been parked on the street when I showed up. Sure enough, Ingrid Hoffman was among the onlookers.
I unloaded my backpack on the ground in front of the graffiti and filled the bucket from a nearby faucet. While I was doing that, the gallery started up catty conversations about me and what I was doing. I was tempted to turn on them and shout I didn’t do it, but that would have just let them know they were getting to me. Instead, I got to work.
A few minutes later one big jerk from the football team walked up and kicked the bucket over. “Oops.” He grinned scornfully.
I’m not sure what he expected from me, but he didn’t get it. I walked over to him silently and stopped directly in front of him. He was almost a head taller than I, but I glared at him, looking directly in his eyes until he blinked. My voice grated as I said, “You blinked first. Go fill that bucket and bring it back here, now!”
The gallery went dead quiet as if anticipating an explosion. It didn’t come. The galoot picked up the bucket and headed for the faucet. I went back to applying the paint remover. The gallery broke up and headed for their cars. The big guy brought the filled bucket back and followed the crowd. Ingrid was the last to leave.
As she did, Dwayne Lindquist parked across the street and came over. He didn’t acknowledge Ingrid. Instead he came up to me. “Can you use some help?”
I smiled for the first time that day. “Gladly.”
A few minutes later the big guy came back and offered his help. The number of helpers grew to the point we were getting in each other’s way, and I had to turn some of them away. I thanked each one profusely. With all the help we were finished in a little over an hour. I thanked everyone who had helped and headed inside. Dwayne waited.
Dr. Ashworth looked stunned to see me so soon. He almost dragged me out to inspect the work. I had to struggle to keep from laughing as he first got as close as he could and looked the work over, even taking his glasses off to examine what we’d done. Then he moved around viewing from every angle. Finally, he stepped back frowning. “You were supposed to do this by yourself.”
“You didn’t say that, and I’m not a mind reader.”
“It was supposed to be punishment.”
“My job was to get the graffiti off the school wall. I did that. With help, yes, but not getting help wasn’t in the job description.”
He harrumphed. “Well, you can finish off your punishment with detention.”
I put my hands on my hips and faced him. “That wasn’t in the job description either. If you want to punish me further, you’ll have to take it up with my parents. For now I’m going home.”
I walked out of his office with him staring at me with his mouth open. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move I could have made, but it sure felt good.
Dwayne helped me put the custodian supplies away and then drove me home. On a whim I leaned across the console and kissed him before I got out of his car. He acted surprised, but his eyes lit up. Before anything else was said or implied, I got out of the car. I waved goodbye and watched him drive off. Then I turned for the front door.
Mom was waiting for me. “You got home early.”
I could see the curiosity in her eyes. “That was Dwayne Lindquist. He and a few other students helped me get the paint off.”
“And drove you home,” she noted. “Do you like him?”
I thought about that. “Yes, but nothing serious.”
“Well, if you do, I suggest you try to keep out of trouble for a while.”
“Mom, you know I didn’t put that graffiti on the school.”
“I know that, and you know that, but staying out of trouble is the only way you’re going to convince your father. Come to think of it, he may be upset because you got off so easy.”
Now that was a pleasant thought, not!