I'm Innocent, Really!

-| And the Winner is |-
[the envelope, please]

Growing up in a Catholic home, I spent an abundance of time burdened with guilt over my actions. I wanted to share this story; reminisce with me and feel my pain.

When I was younger; I attended Catholic Schools. Weather permitting, we would be allowed to walk around outside after lunchtime. This particular school had a brick wall that surrounded three sides of the recreation area; which served the purpose of providing privacy from the cars passing on the street. In my eyes, it made it seem like a prison yard.

To give you an accurate picture in your mind, if you were facing the wall, the school was behind you. The wall had a gradual incline as it made its way around the yard. The beginning of the wall is on the right and is about 18 inches from the ground; the wall inclines slightly and by the time you reach the place where the wall turns at a 90 degree angle, you are about five feet off the ground. The wall then continues at five feet tall until you reach the other turn and it slopes back down, mirroring the opposite side.

This wall fascinated my eight year old mind. I don't know the reason, but I simply could not resist the urge to climb on the wall and slowly make my way around it's perimeter. So, after careful calculation, I decided to begin my journey on one overcast afternoon.

I looked around, making sure Sister Mary Katherine was otherwise occupied looking elsewhere, I stepped up on the wall. I started slowly making my way up the incline, concentrating so greatly on where I was placing my feet that I did not see the black and white streak making its way towards me. I am thrilled when I find myself a good five feet off the ground. I felt like "King of the Mountain" and I briefly wondered if I would fly, or break a leg if I attempted to run the length of the wall and launch myself off of the end.

Suddenly, something grabs my ankle, and I find myself being pulled from the wall with brute force. On the way down, I scrape my leg on the edge of the bricks; I look at Sister MaryKatherine as suddenly produces a yard stick from one of the folds of her robes. I was sure that I was going to be beaten severely for breaking the rules. I did manage to get out of this with only one rap of the ruler and was sent to talk to Father Patrick about my misdeed. He was very surprised to see me there; I was usually pretty good at staying out of trouble.

The punishment I received was the worst possible, at least in my mind. A sealed envelope addressed to my parents. I don't remember anything more terrifying than not knowing what was in that envelope. It sat in my math book the entire day taunting me.

When it was time to go home, I packed my backpack, slowly made my way to the bike racks and reluctantly set the combination lock. I rode home and quietly made my way to my room; praying that I would be unnoticed at least until dinner. I put the envelope on my dresser and started doing my homework. I reasoned that if I had all of my homework done my prison sentence might be reduced.

I spent the afternoon trying to devise a way to see through the envelope. The paper proved to be too thick, even when held up to the light. I knew there was no way to really get it open without it being obvious, since the only other way would be to steam it open; which would require me to venture out into the kitchen where my mom was cooking dinner...so much for that idea.

Much to my dismay; my stepfather came home right on schedule, and dinner was ready. I was called out of my room and asked to set the table. I managed to choke down dinner and avoid most of the conversation aside from mentioning I had a lot of homework. I did not have a lot of homework; I just wanted to escape back to the sanctuary of my room. I knew I was going to have to give them the envelope before the night was over; because it would be better to let them have the whole night to get over being mad at me for doing something that I knew was clearly against the rules than to give it to them in the morning and then have to face them when I got home anyway. At least this way, I would not have to wonder all day tomorrow what they would do to me.

My mom watched me with suspicion throughout the entire dinner. I asked to be excused and was asked to wait and help clear the table at the end of the meal.

About an hour before bedtime, I decided I had better just get it over with and I grabbed the envelope and walked into the living room where they were watching television. I gathered my courage and waited for a commercial and then handed the envelope to my stepfather. I was told that there were cookies on the table and I could have dessert. I went, fearing that once they read what was in the envelope I would never get cookies again.

Then the time came. I was summoned back into the living room to face my doom. They asked me to sit on the couch. Then they each looked at my ankle where I had been scraped by the wall. I hadn't even looked at it myself; and it was a not a very long scrape, but the blood had dried and my sock was ruined. Then I had to tell them the whole story, and it was always worse to me to confess to my parents than it was in church.

So, what was in the envelope? Only a letter explaining the injury. So I was worried all day for nothing.