I steal
I steal. I don't really understand why. I mean, it's not like I need the stuff; I just want it. Actually, I don't really even want it. I just take it.
I've never been caught, or even suspected of such a thing. I'm a B+ student. I don't shout out answers or talk back to teachers. I generally don't do anything to draw attention to myself - well, except maybe this. I've never even seen the inside of the principal's office. Don't get me wrong - I'm no teacher's pet. Actually, most of the time, my teachers can't even remember my name. It's not that I'm shy; people just forget that I'm there.
This stealing thing hasn't always been a problem. It started out small. Some girl in math class had this cool, neon-green plastic ruler. When you tilted it, the pieces of confetti inside sloshed around. I don't remember exactly how I took it or when, but it's in the second drawer of my little wooden desk at home. Then a trapper keeper. Then a bracelet.
The weird part is that I never use the stuff. Most of them, I just give to my little brother or throw it away. I don't even need the stuff.
Lately, everyone is suspicious of each other. The stealing has gotten out of control. My friends can't believe that anyone would take the present Mrs. Hill bought for her son or the money from the junior class bake sale. Who would do something so crazy, so stupid?
I don't know when or if it'll stop. I mean, I'm not even thinking about it - it just happens. I tell myself on the walk to the bus stop each morning that today I'll play it cool; today I won't take anything. But when I open my backpack at 2:30 each afternoon, it's full of a day's worth of loot. I've got to try to just play it cool for a week or two, maybe return a couple of the big things that people have been so upset about - Laurie Henderson's necklace, Matt's graphing calculator.
I'll figure something out.
I've never been caught, or even suspected of such a thing. I'm a B+ student. I don't shout out answers or talk back to teachers. I generally don't do anything to draw attention to myself - well, except maybe this. I've never even seen the inside of the principal's office. Don't get me wrong - I'm no teacher's pet. Actually, most of the time, my teachers can't even remember my name. It's not that I'm shy; people just forget that I'm there.
This stealing thing hasn't always been a problem. It started out small. Some girl in math class had this cool, neon-green plastic ruler. When you tilted it, the pieces of confetti inside sloshed around. I don't remember exactly how I took it or when, but it's in the second drawer of my little wooden desk at home. Then a trapper keeper. Then a bracelet.
The weird part is that I never use the stuff. Most of them, I just give to my little brother or throw it away. I don't even need the stuff.
Lately, everyone is suspicious of each other. The stealing has gotten out of control. My friends can't believe that anyone would take the present Mrs. Hill bought for her son or the money from the junior class bake sale. Who would do something so crazy, so stupid?
I don't know when or if it'll stop. I mean, I'm not even thinking about it - it just happens. I tell myself on the walk to the bus stop each morning that today I'll play it cool; today I won't take anything. But when I open my backpack at 2:30 each afternoon, it's full of a day's worth of loot. I've got to try to just play it cool for a week or two, maybe return a couple of the big things that people have been so upset about - Laurie Henderson's necklace, Matt's graphing calculator.
I'll figure something out.
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