My teacher kept me after class, the bitch. She was taunting me, knowing I was desperate to leave. She asked me how many strokes I’d had on the hand, and whether I’d been paddled before. She was watching the clock the whole time. She let me go at 12.03. She chose that because she knew I’d have no chance of making it to the head’s office by 12.05, as he’d instructed me, and that if I had two minutes I’d try anyway.
So I ran, staying out in the playground and not in the corridors, so as not to get in more trouble. When I got to his office, I made it 12.07, so that was it. I was in for a return visit after school to get the paddle.
But then I thought that maybe his clock might be slow, and he wouldn’t notice I was late, so I knocked at the door.
I’m going to have to cut here, though. This has been published and my publishers don’t want free competition from me. You can read it here.