Our seventh grade algebra class was divided into three groups. There were the smart kids, who raced through their problems, the slower kids, who asked a million questions, and then there were the hall kids, who liked to figure things out on their own. I was a proud hall kid, and I spent every day sitting in the hallway working out problems with my two best friends Abby and Kelly Jo. It was a perfect arrangement, because we were up on the third floor where there was never anyone around, and there was this little ledge in front of the long windows that was the perfect size for three. We always tried to work on our math, but there always seemed to be distractions. Our middle school building was very old, often mysterious, and across from where we sat there was this weird crawl space that looked like it hadn’t been used for decades. We were always puzzled by it, never sure if it was really a crawl space or just a hole that was never covered, and we often discussed what we would find if we crawled into it.
One day, I was dared by my friends to crawl into the hole and, of course, I couldn’t disappoint. Then I had to fight through cobwebs that were thicker than cotton balls as I inched into the creepy hole. I kept looking back over my shoulder for reassurance, and my friends kept giving me encouraging nods. Once inside the crawlspace, I felt into the total darkness above my head and realized that I could fit my body into a chimney like structure and stand all the way up. I heard Kelly Jo laughing hysterically. I called through the wall and asked why there were laughing, and they said I looked funny because only my feet and the bottom of my legs were still showing.
The joke was over and I was ready to get out, but I was having the hardest time trying to maneuver myself back out of the little hole. I started to get a little panicked, because I had no idea what was above my head and I realized that all the cob webs were probably owned by a couple of massive spiders. Abby and Kelly were getting a little panicky as well.
After about ten minutes Abby yelled at me to stand back up, and I told her she was crazy. But in a strained whisper she explained that the school psychologist had just come out of his office and was walking down the hallway towards us. I jumped back up and stood perfectly still, holding my breath. The rest of the hall kids scurried back to work, and I was left there all alone, trapped in a wall with just my phantom feet visible in the crawlspace. The school psychologist walked past and I was almost in the clear, but then he did a double take and well… let’s just say that the next time I chose to do something that’s considered “strange behavior,” I remembered not to do it while the school shrink was watching.
