On The Wall

In lieu of an abstract, below is the essay\u27s first paragraph. The water dripped from the faucet nearest the door. The little boy hid behind the toilet, in the stall closest to the window that opened onto the playground, and waited. He waited for school to end. IT was the last day, one more hour and he could leave and no one would stop him. He took a deep breath, he was eight years old. His elder brother had been nineteen when he\u27d left. He\u27d sat in his car, in the garage, opened the door and turned on the engine. It was simple, but the little boy didn\u27t have a car. He had sat in this same spot everyday, curled up in the corner, no teachers yelling for him to pay attention, until they\u27d read his record and then apologized in hushed tones. No big brother found as a substitute by his brother\u27s guidance counselor the woman that gave him cookies because she felt guilty