I was walking down the art room hallway.
My hands were carefully holding my massive cardboard castle.
It was due in Mr. Harrison’s class.
I had spent every evening for the past three weeks on it.
Each tiny window was cut with an X-Acto knife.
Every stone was meticulously drawn.
I had even made a tiny drawbridge that really moved.
It was probably the best thing I had ever made.
My art grade depended on this project.
I felt a mix of pride and nerves carrying it.
The bell for fourth period had just rung.
The hallway was starting to fill up.
I tried to hug the wall.
I wanted to avoid the usual rush.
My destination was the display case outside the art room.
Mr. Harrison wanted them set up before class started.
I saw Mrs. Davis, the history teacher, at her door.
She was looking at her watch.
A group of kids from my English class were waiting there.
They were talking loudly.
Their voices echoed slightly.
I just wanted to get my castle safely placed.
Then I could relax.
Mark and Liam emerged from the next classroom.
They were laughing boisterously.
Mark was gesturing wildly with his hands.
He wasn't looking forward.
He wasn't paying attention.
My stomach fluttered nervously.
I instinctively tried to move further to my right.
It was too late.
Mark turned his head towards Liam.
His shoulder swung out.
It collided squarely with my side.
The impact was jarring.
My body lurched sideways.
My grip on the castle loosened.
I felt it slipping.
My heart leaped into my throat.
I tried to grab it.
My fingers scrabbled uselessly at the smooth cardboard.
The entire structure wobbled precariously.
Then it began its slow descent.
The front wall peeled away first.
It detached with a soft rip.
Then a tall turret crumpled inwards.
It made a dry snapping sound.
My eyes were wide.
I watched it all happen.
The painstaking details blurred.
The castle hit the floor with a dull thud.
It wasn't a clean fall.
It was an explosion of cardboard.
Pieces flew in every direction.
The drawbridge mechanism splintered.
My tiny flags skittered across the linoleum.
One disappeared completely under a row of lockers.
A silence fell over the immediate area.
It was thick and immediate.
Mark paused for just a second.
He glanced down at the mess.
His expression was blank.
"Oops," he mumbled.
It was almost an afterthought.
"My bad, dude."
He didn't even slow his stride.
He walked right past the wreckage.
Liam snickered beside him.
They continued down the hallway.
They were still laughing about something else.
The group of English kids just stared.
Their eyes were fixed on me.
They were fixed on the shattered project.
No one spoke.
No one offered to help.
I felt a hot flush creep up my neck.
It spread across my face.
My cheeks burned.
I could feel the blood rushing there.
My hands were trembling slightly.
I just stood over the remains of my hard work.
The perfect lines were gone.
The delicate painting was scuffed.
It was just a pile of broken cardboard.
The bell for class rang again.
It startled me.
Everyone around me started moving.
They stepped around the scattered pieces.
