"Are you sure you wanna go through with this?" I looked at a worried Zoe. I nodded and managed a weak smile.
"We'll be fine!" I said, more confident than I felt. "Right, Bree?" Brianna was busy twirling her hair and counting clovers. She's so dumb. I adjusted my pack of fireworks onto my back and gulped. I was your average bully, complete with long brown hair and a stunning smile. So why did I feel like murder?
I grabbed a match and struck it. I then looked around the corner. Nobody in sight! I held the match out to Zoe. "You wanna do it?" I asked her shakily.
"Nuh-uh," she replied firmly. Ok, I can do this, I thought. I pulled out the fireworks and lit them. Then I threw them into the principle's office. Bree, Zoe and I held our ears as the fireworks exploded. We ran down the corridor and I heard a cry that would change my life forever. "Rebecca Winslow, you're expelled!"
Two days later, I was at a meeting, discussing my fate. I sat in a wooden chair, in the middle if the room. Principle Tumbler sat in front of me, along with some of my teachers, and a few people I didn't know, including an oddly dressed man with a long, silver beard and a man with greasy hair. Too much shampoo, I noted. I couldn't help but take note. I was a born trickster.
The adults' voices were ringing in my ears, and I became angrier and angrier. It just wasn't fair! Me, expelled? I mean, I know I was nasty but seriously? My heart hammered. I looked around and caught the greasy guy'zs eye. Snotrag. I snarled and glared. He did the same, then turned away. Yeah, real friendly. Of course, I wasn't any better. I looked around at the other people. Then I found myself looking at the old guy.
He was wearing a big, purple robe, and glasses. The old lady kind. I also noticed how wrinkled his face was. He walked up to me and I felt small. Very small. I hated that feeling. What is it? I wanted to ask. Istead, "Who are you? What are you? What is going to happen to me?" The old man smiled at me. I could snap him like a twig. He glowed. I thought of rude nicknames. He was like a king. He was so weak. I was so small. He was elderly. I was suddenly aware that he had said something. I blushed and tuned in.
"Rebecca Winslow, I am Professor Dumbledore. You can either come to my nutloaf school, or become a nutloaf at juvy. The choice is yours."