“Throw A Rock At Connie!” (Part 1 of 2)

I usually didn’t listen to what my friends told me to do. But one day I gave in to what a friend told me to do.
“Hey, Billy,” my friend Alan said to me. “Throw a rock at Connie!”
Connie was a cute blond girl my age. I liked her. But when Alan said to throw a rock at her, I picked one up and let it fly.
Normally I was a klutz in elementary school when it came to sports. I was terrible in basketball, even though I was the tallest kid in the school when I was only in fourth grade. And I was afraid of catching a high fly ball when we played soft ball. I wasn’t very good at batting, and couldn’t throw the ball very well.
But as luck -- or should I say bad luck -- would have it, the first time I picked up a rock to throw it at anybody it flew directly to the intended target. SMACK! Right on the top of Connie’s head. I knew right at that moment that I had done something wrong.
Connie started crying. She put both hands to her eyes and even though she was about thirty feet away from me, I could see the tears spurting out from between her fingers. I felt really bad for a few moments -- that is until the entire school safety patrol took me into custody. Three big sixth grade boys escorted me into the school building for an immediate audience with the principal. As I was taken through the doors, I caught a glimpse of Connie surrounded by a host of sixth grade girls.