Lemur, Who Are You? [antikvár]

The Splendid Busride I get called to the office in the afternoon. They hand me a principal's warning probably full of strict words. I can't bring myself to look at it, those nine lines full of writing, the stamps, the signatures, I feel faint. I try to walk home, but my feet don't want to move, I just shuffle in one place. I'm sure my parents already suspect something, news travels like wildfire: I shot the dame with the bun. She pressed a bloody handkerchief to her face. Thank God they didn't call the cops. If I had shot her eye it'd be off to the slammer. Teacher Justice smiles, didn't she always say that I was a deranged mass murderer, a Doctor Mengele. She'll probably provoke me into making another mistake, and then I'm out. I'll be a no-good jailbird, a social outcast, I'll end up living in a cardboard box, oh God why did I ever grow up? I am a cause of endless sorrow. But really, I just wanted to see what it would feel like to shoot out of the classroom window and in through the Lignimpex's window. I couldn't help it if that lady was sitting there. Okay, fine, I saw her sitting there, but I just wanted to know what it would feel like to shoot out the window. During study hall, to creep up, shoot out, crouch down, yesss. What an incredible yell a lipsticked secretary like that can let out if she's shot in the face! Even the trolley 5