There was the sound of the door opening. A figure walked in through the door and proceeded into the hallway. The figure came into the light of the living room nearly was dark enough to conceal itself. The figure went past the living room into a darker hallway. The floor of the hallway was covered in drying cement, just barely far enough through the hallway that if he was going to pass it, they would have to jump, and it would be a close one. The figure took a few steps back, ran forward and jumped. With a squish, the figure landed in the drying cement. He quickly stepped out of the boot and into the regular floor. He pulled the boot out of the cement and rubbed the drying cement onto a towel that he threw out the window. Then he slipped out of the hallway and was gone.
I woke up to a bright light shining in my room. It was my mom waking me up, I could tell by the worried expression on her face that something was up. From one quick look out the window, it looked like it was morning. I could see the sun well in my second-st bedroom at the top of a hill in the suburbs of Ohio.
“Hi Mom,” I said sleepily, still recovering from the initial shock of waking up.
“Do we have school today?”
“Of course not, its the weekend!” I was in 3rd grade and let's just say that I did not like school that much in Fairbanks elementary school. I remembered the smell of the classroom on the day we had a cooking lab when the teacher spilled rice on another boy in the class. The teacher blamed it on the kid and she got in trouble.
Mom smiled but then when back to her serious expression.
“I have a question for you, Will, okay?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said thinking I have no choice.
“There's a footprint in the drying cement next to the bathroom”
Our house was in the middle of being re-floored, so the contractors had poured the cement for our hallway last night.
“That is not really a question,” I noticed, pretending not to notice the real meaning behind my Mom’s words. my stomach diving thinking where this was going, this is going to be an interrogation. I shifted my leg around and looked down.
Mom pretended not to hear me and continued on.
“I was wondering if you did it”
There it was straight up and blunt. Oh no.
“Now, before you answer, I want you to know that you won't be in trouble unless you lie, so please tell the truth”
She looked at me like she was trying to see right through me. So I said simply “I did not do it, sorry”
“All right, thanks for answering,” she said.
… … …
I got dressed and went downstairs but stopped when I heard a low toned conversation in my brother's room, probably my Mom asking about the boot print. I got under the table next to the room to listen more.
“-But I didn't do it!” that was my brother.
“I’m not saying you did-” My Mom
“But you are!”
“Don't worry, I'll look into it.” And she got up to leave the room.
I scrunched myself farther into the table and waited until my Mom left to get out from under the table.
I made my way downstairs to have breakfast; waffles, and get ready for the day.
When everyone was sitting down for breakfast; my two brothers and Mom and Dad, my Mom dropped the big news.
“Dad and I are going to figure out what shoe made the footprint and then go from there.”
“All right, I’m gonna finish eating.”
So Mom and Dad went to the drying concrete with all our shoes.
… … ...
I finished breakfast and washed my plate. And then when to check on Mom and Dad’s progress. But before I could get there, Mom came racing out from the hall saying
“It's your brother!” “He stepped in the cement!”
I ran after my Mom to the couch where he was reading a book. My other brother, Sam, was outside already.
“Okay, John” Mom said “You need to be honest. Did you step in the cement, or not?”
“I’m sorry but the footprint says otherwise.” Mom said.
“What!? But I didn't do it. Ask Sam, he probably lied!”
“Sorry, we will talk about a punishment together”
At that point, I left, ‘cause my brother probably wanted privacy. and I actually feel bad because he did not do it… I did. Yep, I did it. As I make my way past the hallway to my room to read, I think I should not have done it, I should not have lied.
I start reading but my mind is not on the Book, it's on my lie made by me. I stare at the wooden door frame with little engravings of trees. And as I keep staring, I come to my decision. I will tell Mom and… I don't know but at least that's the right thing to do. Finally, I get out of bed and walk towards my decision.
… … ...
Later that day I was in the yard mowing it. That was my punishment for lying. Mom was mostly mad about the lying part, not the cement part. So my punishment was to moe the lawn once a week. It was fine, not a bad punishment.
Reflecting back on my confession, I remember how easy it was to explain what I was doing in the middle of the night “Wait, what were you doing in the middle of the night up?
“Oh, I just had to use the bathroom so I tried to jump but…”
In the end, I learned a lesson, don't lie unless you like mowing lawns.