How did I get caught?

The weather was abnormally hot, and the ground under my feet soon became a pool of sweat. My head was dizzy, a signal of impending heatstroke. However, I had to force my legs to move, since I was fully aware of unbearable consequences I would have to bear after being caught. With a shiny trophy inscribed with the name "Brad" clutched in my slippery right hand, I forced myself forward. Believe it or not, I was trying to take away a math olympiad trophy that my haughty Australian friend, Brad, received for achieving the 1st place in the math competition. 

The weather when I first met Brad was stormy and cold, and Brad was standing among windblown leaves with his gruesome braces emitting eerie light despite absence of sunlight. Such atmosphere and ominous braces seemed to imply an inauspicious relationship between me and Brad, who occasionally boasted his mathematic skills and taunted others for being inferior to him in the field. Since I perceived numbers and "x and y" as meaningless pictures that had no relevance with my life, Brad's acrid remarks regarding my pathetic skills in performing simple algebra did not incite any antipathy towards him. One day, however, Brad came to me and began to flaunt his mathematic skills by shoving shiny golden math olympiad trophy right in front of my nose. Such boasting was Brad's everyday repertoire, and paying no attention to his pompous behaviors was my usual reaction towards his math-related invective. But one word aggravated that day: "Stupid Asian."

He chose the wrong diction, and he certainly chose a wrong enemy. 

To repay all the humiliation that Brad kindly gave to me, I decided to steal his trophy and run away. 

 One sunny, humid afternoon, I was standing in front of Brad's desk, staring at Brad's golden trophy, his only pride. I might have pondered on 'To steal, or not to steal, that is the question.' in front of Brad's desk if my heart was weak, but my firm decision and strong will to torment our young mathematician made me resolved to steal his golden trophy. I decided to steal it and throw it away into a place that a math genius like Brad could never find until he became too aged and feeble to hold a pencil. I grabbed the trophy and ran away from the classroom with unimaginable speed. Unfortunately, Brad and his parents, who were discussing Brad’s academic achievements with a headmaster, spotted a dark- faced Asian boy fleeting with a gleaming trophy clutched in his right hand. They immediately chased after me, and I ran for my life. I ran across a vast, green football field, sprinting as fast as possible so that old grumpy Brad’s parents and arrogant Brad could not catch up to me. However, their aspiration for getting that trophy was stronger than my antipathy towards Brad, and I was just about an inch away from them at a side walk in front of the school’s dunny. Suddenly, my right hand became loose due to vigorous chasing, and a golden trophy flew towards the path of a passing truck. “Crack!” The trophy broke into two, and I exclaimed “Yes!” for achieving my grand goal. Of course, I got caught immediately after the death of the trophy.

I had to spend all day in my headmaster’s office with my parents, enduring shouts and cries that were incontrovertibly louder than a sonic boom. Brad continued to stare at me, eyes full of detest and misery. In contrast, I stared at him with a benign, pleased look, an arrogant composure that a winner exhibits to a looser. Today, when I solve complicated math problems, Brad’s dismayed face and his golden trophy broken into bits often appear as fond reminiscence in front of my eyes.  It was a pleasing experience