Some things just stay with you forever. 2.

Eighteen years ago ...

... I was nine and in the fourth grade. Although this might have happened when I was ten. Because I turned ten halfway through fourth grade.

At my elementary school, kids who came early went to the gym. And we sat in long lines. Each grade had a different line.

That morning, many many kids were early. And the fourth grade line became two lines. And a boy ended up sitting next to me.

Also that morning, our P.E. teacher (who always watched us before school started) was absent. I think she had had a baby. Or maybe she was just sick. But I loved her. She was amazing and fun and full of energy. Her sub wasn't very nice.

And she was watching us that morning.

And she told us all to be quiet. And she shouted it to us.

You couldn't hear any noise in the gym except for the lights. They would buzz.

And I was bored and I wanted to draw. I unzipped my backpack to get some paper and a pencil. And I had to take out my garage door opener to get to my pencil.

"What's that?" the boy asked me.

I didn't know what to do. The mean lady told us not to talk. No matter what. And I never broke the rules and I never got in trouble. But I didn't want to be rude.

"What is that?" the boy asked me again.

I pointed to my big grey garage door opener and looked at him. I wanted to make sure that was what he was asking about. He asked me again.

I put my finger to my mouth. I wanted to tell him to be quiet. I wanted to warn him to be quiet.

And then I heard shouting. "What did I say!" the voice asked. And then there were dirty sneakers in front of me.

I looked up and saw the mean lady. I opened my mouth. I wanted to tell her I didn't say anything, but my mom and dad had always taught me to not talk back to grownups. Was this talking back?

"Go sit under ORANGE," she demanded. I looked around. Several kids were sitting under COLORS against THE WALL. When kids were bad before school in the gym, they had to leave their lines and go sit under a COLOR. They were the last to leave the gym and go to class. That day, more kids were under COLORS and against THE WALL than any other day.

Was I really being sent to a COLOR?

I looked up at her again. "GO!" she shouted at me.

I grabbed my bag. I grabbed my coat. I grabbed my garage door opener. And I looked at the boy. He looked sorry.

And I went and sat under ORANGE. And I cried. Because I was embarrassed and sad and I knew that I didn't talk. I stayed quiet. But I was sitting where bad kids sat and I wasn't bad. And I felt so small against that big cold WALL.

And I watched all of my friends get up and leave and go to class. And then one by one, us bad kids were sent off. And I was the last kid to show up in class. And by that time, my favorite teacher had heard that I sat against THE WALL that morning.

"Why were you sitting against the wall, Veronica?" she quietly asked me so no one else could hear.

"I don't know," I told her. And I didn't.

And I thought about that stupid garage door opener in my backpack. I only had that stupid thing because our front door lock sometimes didn't work. And my mom gave me the opener so I could let my sister and me into the house. And I only had to do that because my mom had to work and couldn't be at home because my parents had just gotten divorced.

And right then I hated that garage door opener. And I hated our stupid front door lock. And I hated divorce. Because it all made me sit under ORANGE against the WALL.