The Accusation.

Sam’s face stared at the chalkboard. Mr. Willis’s voice continued to drone on about the recent Civil War. Sam did not care. He has been sleepy since last night. His father came over to visit last night to spend time with Sam. That time was cut short due to due to his parents’ argument.  As he lay in bed, he felt oddly comfortable with their shouts. Both of his parents were in the same house, which was rare nowadays. Sleep did not come last night, but it was coming in now. Mr. Willis’s lesson was no match for the weight pulling Sam into sleep. He did not want to doze, but after last night’s restless tossing and turning, he couldn’t help it.

“Sam!” Mr. Willis’s sharp tone jolted him awake. Same’s head shot up, his eyes blinking against the accosting classroom lights into his eyes. His classmates were staring, a mix of curiosity and smirks on their faces.

“What is this?” Mr. Willis asked, holding up a Post It Note.

Still groggy, “What’s what?”

“This note,” the teacher said, shoving the bright yellow square note into Sam’s face. Mr. Willis did not read the note out loud, nor was Sam asked to read the note for all the hear. The note read: “Willis is a X-sash traitor.” Sam did not know what that meant, but by looking at the teacher’s face, Sam knew the note’s contents meant something significant. The teacher’s energy radiated across the classroom. The smirks on the classmate’s faces were gone, just a more intense degree of curiosity remained. A few of the students turned their faces into their textbooks, hiding.

“I didn’t write that! I don’t even have a pen!” Sam said, confused. “I was asleep!”

“No more lies, there’s a pen right on your desk!” Mr. Willis snapped and pointed at the ball-point pen. “The note and pen were on your desk, and your handwriting is all over it. I am done with you.”

Sam’s stomach sank as he looked at the paper in Mr. Willis’s hand. The words did look like his handwriting – slanted letters, uneven spacing, and how his “s” looks like a “z.” But he hadn’t written it. He did not even know what a “a X-sash traitor is” or know why it would make Mr. Willis so angry. He wanted to run and hide. He had never seen Mr. Willis so angry. He was always nice to everyone.

“Take your things and go to the office.” Sam was shaking. He grabbed everything and dropped the pen onto the floor. He wanted to leave the pen lying on the ground. He took it because he did not want Mr. Willis to be even more angry at him. Before Sam left, he glanced around the classroom, hoping for some clue on what just happened, but there was nothing – no clear culprit, no explanation, just the heavy weight of the accusation pressing down on him.

Sam left the classroom. He dropped everything onto the floor so he could stuff his backpack with his classroom supplies. He stared at the pen – a basic, cheap pen – that was not his until that moment. Someone had written that note and left a note and pen on his desk. Now, it lay there innocently in his hands as he walked to the principal’s office. He has never been in trouble with any authority. He was scared and shaking as he walked down the hallway.