Sharp Revenge | Teen Ink

Sharp Revenge

December 8, 2013
By goldilocksgold BRONZE, Steubenville, Ohio
goldilocksgold BRONZE, Steubenville, Ohio
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye. Then it's hilarious.

Jack wouldn’t tell anyone what was in his paper bag. Not Gordon the bus driver. Not his best friend Larry who threatened to plaster his face with a peanut butter sandwich. Not even Grace, the prettiest girl in kindergarten.

He had almost caved when she stuck out her lower lip and pouted. She offered him one of the candies out of her own bag, but Jack pointed out that then there’d be ninety-nine pieces of candy. She needed exactly one hundred.

Today was the one-hundredth day of school. Mrs. Dibbleworth had hung up a countdown sheet and Jack had watched as she crossed off the days and the shiny red 100 getting closer and closer. He had wondered what one hundred items he would bring in. Then Frank pushed him at recess and he knew exactly what.

Stage one had been to not show the paper to his mother. A few days ago, Mrs. Dibbleworth had put the paper in all of their book bags. It explained everything anyone needed to know about the one-hundredth day of school. He had to remove and destroy the paper between the time he got on the bus at the end of the day and the time he stepped off. Jack hadn’t been worried about that part; he had always wanted to see if he could eat a whole piece of paper. Actually remembering was the more tricky part of the plan because Jack often forgot things in a very short period of time. Luckily he was aware of this and had decided not to talk at all on the way home in order to concentrate.

It had all been going well until Larry started to talk and wouldn’t stop and asked him why he wasn’t talking, and then Jack himself almost fell flat on his face while climbing the bus stairs because he had screwed his eyes tight and plugged his ears with his fingers to keep the phrase “Destroy the paper” in his head. He didn’t forget, but he didn’t eat the paper either. Only a nibble was muscled down and the rest had to be thrown out the window.

Stage one was a success, and his mother didn’t know about the one-hundredth day of school or the paper. Jack got a guilty sense of pleasure just by having one inch of information his mother didn’t have.

Today, as Jack got off the bus, he was careful not to crush his bag. He and the other students filed into the kindergarten room, hung their coats and book bags on their hooks and sat in their seats.

Mrs. Dibbleworth smiled at them all. “Do we know what today is?” she chirped. She was remarkably like a bird, a fat red robin. Jack wondered if she would bounce if he pushed her down the stairs.

Frank raised his hand. “The one-hundredth day of school!”

Jack glared at him. Not only had Frank pushed him on the playground, but he also hadn’t waited to be called on, the number one rule of kindergarten.

Mrs. Dibbleworth just smiled at him. “Good job, Frank. The one-hundredth day of school. Did you all bring your one hundred items?”

Eighteen brown paper bags were lifted up.

“I have paperclips!”

“Mommy counted mine!”

“Whoops! I spilled them all.”

After finding and counting one hundred marbles, Mrs. Dibbleworth gathered them into a circle. Then she explained the rules. Jack knew them by heart. The rules were his means to success.
Everyone would pass their bag down one person. It would be to the left. It was always to the left, Jack knew, so he sat on Frank’s right. Then the person whose bag it wasn’t would have to reach in and guess what the one hundred items were. Since most of the class had either spilled their bag or the secret, only a few students’ bags were a mystery, but the kindergarteners were fine with that, Jack thought, because they were kindergarteners and would have been perfectly happy to rub their faces in the mud. Jack considered himself above such antics.

“Now class,” Mrs. Dibbleworth chirped. “We’re going to pass our bags to the left. Do we all know where left is?”

The kindergarteners’ hands formed Ls, and a few fingers escaped up some noses, but as soon as left was distinguished as left and the last boogers were wiped onto the carpet, the passing began.

Jack turned to Frank. Frank held out his hand. Jack held the bag out.

“No peeking,” Jack said.

Frank stuck his tongue out. “I’m not.”

As if to prove it, he screwed his eyes shut and reached into the bag.

Jack squeezed the bag and the one hundred items around Frank’s hand. Frank let out a yowl of pain. Jack’s great moment of triumph was quickly punctured with a shout of his own. He forgotten that thumbtacks went through paper bags and into his own hands just as easily as they were supposed to go through Frank’s skin.

Mrs. Dibbleworth fluttered to help, dabbing at the dots of blood with tissues.

“It’ll be all right, children. Just don’t pick them up. Thumbtacks are sharp. Constance, will you please take that out of your nose.”

Jack thought quickly. He knew exactly what his teacher wanted to hear, so he said it. Of course he never meant to hurt anyone. He didn’t know Frank would reach in so hard. Yes, he was sorry and of course it would never happen again.

At the end of the day, Jack noticed that Mrs. Dibbleworth put a paper in only his book bag. That one would have to disappear too.

The author's comments:
This was written on an impulse and is about the little boy I would have been if I wanted revenge.

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