He chuckled slightly as he pulled the little girl's hair. She was so much younger than he was and it was so tempting to pull that long, reddish blonde braid.
She, however, was beginning to get a little irritated at the boy that was yanking on her hair. He'd been pulling on it throughout the entire assembly. It was one she had been looking forward to at that, and he was ruining it.
The high schoolers always came once a year to perform their play for the elementary school and she always adored it. But this time, the stupid boy behind her would not stop pulling her hair.
She turned around, fed up, and said, "Can you please stop that?"
"Can you please stop that?" He imitated and he and his friends burst out laughing. He did stop though. He stopped pulling her hair, anyway. After that, he kicked her chair incessantly.
She dealt with it as long as she could, but you can imagine how annoying that must be. "Stop," she again turned around and glared at him, now angry.
He rolled his eyes, "No."
"You two—" a teacher pointed in their direction, "—principal's office, now."
"Look what you did now," he mumbled.
"Me? If you would have stopped, we wouldn't be going," she said defiantly as they made their way out of the auditorium.
As they walked past the painted flowers on the wall and up a flight of stairs to the principal's office, the little girl glanced at the boy. She realized then that he was afraid. She sighed, not really wanting to get in trouble.
"You know…you made me miss my favorite thing ever," she threw him a dirty look.
"You actually like that?!" He asked incredulously.
"Duh! It's fun."
He rolled his eyes and he pulled the door open to the office.
"What do you two need?" A secretary inquired.
"We were sent here from the assembly," the girl replied.
"Ahh, yes. Mr. Johnson is waiting for you," she pointed in the direction of his office and then turned her attention back to her computer.
They both hesitated, looking at each other before moving slowly to his office.
"I've never been in trouble before," he whispered.
"Then maybe you shouldn't have kicked my chair and pulled my hair…hey, that rhymed," she realized.
He smiled, debating with himself. He hated apologizing, but he knew he should. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
She sighed, "Yeah, I know."
"I can see it. And you're scared, too."
"I am not."
"You two can come in," Mr. Johnson called from his office.
They looked at each other and they both had a glint of fear in their eyes.
"Ready?" He asked after hesitating.
She nodded. He took her hand. "Ready."
They cautiously made their way through a door that meant a lot more than a week's detention. It meant something that would affect them for the rest of their lives.