Don’t lie! We all have made our own mistakes. It's a part of all human nature, wired into us like a code in a machine. Little or big, we all make them, especially when you are growing up into the person you will be your whole life. Children are masters of mistakes; since I was one, I know. I also happen to have made one that still scars me to this day. 

     It started with a walk. I was in the fourth grade. Westborough, Massachusetts 2020. I was ten. Every day in fourth grade before we had our snack time outside, our class would walk around the school. No worries. Just some time to relax before our break. My class was turning around the bend, almost to the pavement hill that led to the back door to the school. This would be the scene of a sin that has a permanent mark on me. 

     As the fourth grade class we were, we were obnoxious and competitive. We all would boast about how good we were at some random thing. Mine was being fast. I was pretty sure that I was the fastest kid in my class. I would do my best to prove it at any chance. It also happens that my fourth grade loved to run to the door to see who would be first.  Most days were on the side of the school that did not have a hill. Today we were.  You might be able to guess where this was going.

     The sun layed blankets of light brightly on my face. I felt the bubbly excitement of the fourth grade crowd. I knew the hill was coming up, and with that, the door. I would be the first one and prove that I was the fastest. I didn’t think about how steep the hill was, or that it was made with pavement. The only thing going through my head was proving to myself and everyone else that I was indeed the class speed champion. My ego needed inflation, and my only talent was there to do just that. Looking over to my friend, I saw a mischievous look on his face. I knew it was almost “Go”  time. 

     There. Just ahead of the pack was the hill. I quickly moved to try to get a pole position when my friend shouted the words. I had just made it to a spot that I liked when someone bellowed, “Last one there is a rotten egg!” Grinning, I bolted. The class bolted. We had done this hill run once or twice before, but I had never had pole position and gone full throttle. Something in the back of my mind had stopped me from running at full speed down a pavement hill, but this time nothing stopped me. Speeding past everyone, I felt so free. Animal out of its cage. Free bird. A convict escaping from prison. Energy surged through me. I had a huge lead. Nothing had felt better than beating my entire class by so much. I was finally on top of the world! This lasted about five seconds. Then the hill steepend, and I went tumbling forward right into the pavement. 

     I fell. Violently. Right on my left knee. Then on my hands. Pain flooded through my entire body. I looked down at my leg, and all I saw was the monstrous color of red sweeping over my entire leg. The agony immobilized me, and the pain inside worked its way out of me into tears. My two teachers ran over. They helped me up as I bawled in pain. The main teacher told the helper teacher to take me to the nurse.

     I was still sobbing as I entered the school. The walls seemed to laugh at me as they got bigger. The pain was so agonizing. I tried my best to turn down the volume of my tears as we walked past other classrooms. I would have died if any of my friends looked out of their classroom windows and saw me in this state of ruin. It was so humiliating to have been so close to bragging rights and then be diminished to this. Fame and fortune were gone because now I was as insignificant as a bug. I had decided to never show my face in school when we reached the nurse’s office. The nurse took one look at my leg and knew that I should go home. My parents were called. She bandaged me up as much as she could. I just sat there with my pity and excruciating pain. When my mom arrived she told her that a good chunk of skin was torn off and that it probably would never fully heal. 

     I went home that day with shame and a lesson. A lesson that I didn’t realize that day due to my fourth grade stupidity. We all make mistakes, but all mistakes have consequences. Some little. Some big. That consequence of my mistake was pain. A lot of it. I still have a scar on my left knee. Probably will always have. Let this tale warn you to think about the consequences of mistakes because you will definitely be making a lot more, but hopefully you’ll be smarter and will not let them fall into disastrous proportions.

-Mason L.