Smash. I see it fall to the ground. Too fast to act or think. Moms favorite vase! I can’t believe it. Her car is approaching the apartment faster by the moment. She will be home any second now. I quickly scrape all of the remains of the glass vase into my hand and run to the trash. I do that again a few more times until all of the smashed vase is in the trash. I’m hoping mom won’t find out, but there are millions of tiny pieces of multicolored glass in the small trash can. It’s impossible to not notice it just sitting there. I grab a long strip of paper towel and throw it over all the broken glass. Then I unlock the apartment door so mom can get in, and then run to my room. I slide into my chair and quickly open my math book and pretend that I was reading all along. It really was an accident. I really didn’t mean to break the glass. I was just trying to get into the living room, then the table shook and- a door opening and a happy voice shake me out of my thoughts. “Mason! I’m home, honey!” Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no. I knew she was going to come home one way or another, but now I’m feeling really, really nervous. I heard her footsteps coming up the stairs. I tried to make everything look as normal as possible. I flipped open my other books, and quickly grabbed a pencil and paper, to make it look like I was taking notes. I had to at least try to stall. If mom found out about the vase, then it would probably be the end for me. That vase was one of her favorites. Her dad (my grandpa) gave it to her before he died.
I hear a knock on my door. “Mason, are you okay? You didn’t answer me when I got home” my mom looked worried.
“Oh, you called? I didn’t hear you” I lied. I heard her perfectly fine.
She came over to me and gave me a kiss. “Well, honey, how was your day? Was your walk home from school okay? Did you have time to eat your lunch?”
“Good, yes, and yes” I said, and we laughed.
“Well anyway, why don’t you come down for dinner? All I have to do is heat it up,” mom turned and walked downstairs. I quickly got up and followed.
I sat at the kitchen table downstairs.
“Mason, I’m going to take out the trash” my mom continued,”I’ll just be a minute”.
A wave of guilt washed over me. I watched her take the trash bag out of the trash can and pick it up as the trash bag bumped against her leg, she suddenly fell down. “Ow, ow, ow!” she screamed.
“Mom, are you okay?” I stammered. It was the sharp part of the vase.
“What is in that trash?” she questioned. She lifted it up, and the parts of the vase where visible. She saw them and quickly turned to me with a look on her face while blood gushed out of the cut on her leg where the vase sliced through the trash. “Mason! My vase!”
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