the broken wondow

It was a sultry afternoon, with the hot ball of fire burning in the cloudless sky. The intense heat was passing through me, and beads of perspiration trickled down my forehead. It was recess and I was doing duty in my classroom.
Before I knew it, hysteria ensued. Out of the blue, while I was cleaning the windows, the chairs I was standing on gave way. I applied a vice-like grip onto one of the windowpanes. The windowpanes broke, as it could not take my weight. I fell to the ground with a loud thud. The shattered windowpanes cut my hands. My throat contracted as panic flooded me like a wild fire. My instinct told me to run away, so I immediately sprinted down to assembly, keeping my hands in my pockets so no one could see them bleeding. When the whole class came up to the classroom for lessons, my teacher saw my classmates john and terry cleaning up the broken glass. Assuming the obvious, my teacher strode up to them. “Teacher we were just doing our duty,” said the two boys in unison. As they were notorious for destroying the school property, my teacher brought them to the principal’s office. On seeing their sorry plight, I ran after them and told my teacher that I was the one who broke the windowpane. Luckily she did not scold me.
Honesty does pay, doesn’t it?