It was near the end of your art class, the last class of the day, when you finally snapped.

Tommy had spent the entire period criticizing your painting and throwing bits of ripped-up eraser at your art. More time had been spent fixing the damage the eraser bits had done to the wet paint than actually working on it, and you were at your wits end as you began to clean up your spot. School would be over in ten minutes, and you could spend the rest of the weekend away from the menace that was Tommy Innit.

Then a large chunk of eraser hit your canvas, sliding down the wet paint and creating a large smear.

Your jaw clenched, and a burst of anger filled you. Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed the cup you had been using to clean your paintbrushes and whirled around. Tommy, who was nearly doubled over from laughing at the table behind you, didn't see you in time to save himself from you dumping the cup of paint-water over Tommy's head.

Tommy gaped at you in dismay, the dirty water dripping down his face and shirt.