Our high school transgression

His voice snatched my conscience in mid air. Out of a group of two hundred, six remained. We lined up like suspects against the prison wall. Except we weren’t suspects. Not one who was amongst was innocent. We were guilty. All of us…very guilty.

We took our seats upon the school bench. It was hard. At least it felt hard, like we’d been sat there for hour already. It had been thirty seconds…maybe a minute. Time meant nothing anymore. Until our sentence was over, here we would remain. Our adolescent knees thrust high up in our faces. The ends of our pants far beyond our ankles. We were tall, and the bench was low to the ground.

My fingers were firmly fastened against the underside of the bench. My knuckles white, unlike my conscience. That was far from white now, it was more black. Or maybe a dark. Grey, like the storm that was about to ensue.

The judge approached the bench, letting us marinade in our own guilt and shame. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to speak, but we knew he would. He just watched, not uttering a sound.

His words etched themselves into my very bones. Through my skin and through my flesh. “You boy’s know why you are here, don’t you?” We didn’t reply. We didn’t say even a word. He spoke again, and no reply we gave him. The tension had stolen our tongues, like the moment of our transgression had stolen our consciences.