This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
. My dean said it would take two days for the detectives to review the case and make a final decision. He said in two days I would be called back into his office. Unfortunately, it’s been two days. I sat nervously in each class waiting for a security guard to burst through the door. My sixth period computer class rolled around and there was still no sign of a security guard. My jittery hands clumsily hit each key as I tried to finish my assignment. Then, the door opened. I turned around, my heart was racing. The security guard handed Mrs. Parker the call slip and left just as quickly as she had entered. Mrs. Parker slowly headed towards me and gently placed the slip on my desk. I glanced at the small piece of paper and noticed there’s a large check next to the box “immediately.” I stood up shaking, and tried to gather all of my belongings. I walked past Mrs. Parker’s desk and she asked me sweetly, “Is everything okay?” I held back the tears and mumbled a barely audible “no” and headed out the door. I studied the small piece of paper with my name scribbled across the top with my dean’s messy signature below it. How could this tiny piece of paper have so much importance? I walked into my dean’s office and the secretary grabbed the slip out of my hand and rudely pointed to a seat. Minutes later, Dean Thompson entered, took the slip from his secretary, and pulled me into a separate room. He held the slip out and asked if I knew what it was about. I silently shook my head yes. Detective Allison and my counselor, Mr. Plechaty, joined us in the secluded room. They all shared the same solemn look and disappointment lurked in their eyes. I struggled to hold back tears. While they explained the situation more in depth, I continually caught myself staring at the call slip on the corner of the table. They made a phone call to my mother, but my eyes were still glued to the piece of paper. Even though I had been awaiting the call slip all day, I could barely believe it as I held it in my hands. I tightly grasped it between my sweaty palms as I exited the dean’s office. I went to my locker and grabbed all the materials I was going to need for the next five days while I’m suspended from school. My mom picked me up shortly after. As we quietly sat in the car, she broke the silence by asking what I had in my hand. I lied, telling her it was nothing. When I finally got home, I collapsed on my bed. Everything felt so surreal. I held the crinkled slip above my head and reread the chicken scratch. A tear slowly made its way down my cheek as I hung it on my bulletin board. That call slip has been there ever since, a constant reminder that simple words can make a huge difference.