Cheating the Punishment

My fourth grade teacher finally had enough of my impudence. My punishment: write all of this week's spelling words one hundred times each. At home, my mixture of dread and invention joined forces in a conspiracy of productivity. I would figure out a way to use carbon paper folded in between columns of a sheet of paper so that when I wrote in the first column, the writing would transfer through to four other columns. Secretly, in my bedroom, I folded one sheet of white lined notebook paper after another, with the shiny dark blue carbon paper intertwined in different configurations.  Finally, I got the pattern right! I pressed down with my pen, wrote a word, unfolded the paper, and there, wonderfully, were five columns of words across the top--four of them for free! I wrote several more words until, with a tap on the door, my mom came in. I instinctively shifted from guilt to elation: rather than hide the work-evasion scheme in which I was engaged, I proudly stood up and said "Look! I can write one word and get four more instantly!" Mom was neither excited nor disapproving. Her face showed that she was preoccupied with something far more serious. In a strangely calm and comforting way, she sat down on my bed with me and told me that my sister had just died. She was a Down's kid and had been struggling with a heart condition. Her struggle was over. My scheming to out-smart my teacher seemed trivial and small-minded compared to this.