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    â€œOh, Darrah,” breathed my mom and began to cry again.
    Got it! I turned to her. “I’m sorry Mom. And Dad. I didn’t mean to put you through this. I’m so sorry.” I was acting again, doing a great job, not really thinking about what I was saying.
    â€œOh, Darrah,” Mom grabbed my hand.
    Then, to my surprise, I burst into tears. Real tears, not stage ones. Mrs. Barrett produced another box of tissues and handed it to me. Mom hugged me, and Dad patted me reassuringly on my back.
    â€œI’m really, really sorry, for everything,” I said through my tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”
    â€œThank you, Darrah,” said Mrs. Barrett.
    â€œGood,” said Mrs. Johnson. “She’s said she’s sorry, so let’s go home.” She shifted in her chair and reached for her cane, getting ready to stand up.
    â€œNot yet. The circle isn’t finished. Would you like me to take you to the handicapped bathroom again before we proceed, Mrs. Johnson?”
    â€œDon’t need to do any more proceeding, far as I’m concerned. The girl apologized. That’s good enough for me. Let’s wind this up.”
    I was solidly with Mrs. Johnson on this point. Let’s just forget any sanctions and go home. But no one else spoke up to agree.
    â€œWe’re nearly done. But first, Darrah, have you thought about what you might do to make amends for your actions?”
    I stopped crying immediately. The sanctions were how I would pay for my actions. Mrs. Barrett had said that sanctions weren’t punishment, and I shouldn’t think of them that way. “It’s doing whatever you can to make things as right as they can be.” She’d asked me to think about what I could do, like community service, something that helped others.
    â€œI thought about writing letters, apologizing.”
    â€œWho would you write to?”
    â€œMrs. Johnson. The hospital, too, I guess.”
    â€œThe representative from the hospital suggested a letter,”added the constable. “After he finished talking about the inconvenience and Darrah’s irresponsibility and—”
    â€œThank you, Constable, we don’t need to hear anymore. I had a conversation with the same person, and much of what he said about Darrah is judgmental and must not be repeated here.
    â€œWhat do the rest of you think about Darrah writing two letters of apology as one of her sanctions?”
    Everyone nodded.
    â€œAll right, that’s decided. Mr. and Mrs. Patrick, will one of you take responsibility for making sure Darrah does this and go with her to deliver them in person?”
    â€œI’m sure my wife can find time for that,” said Dad. “And I will proofread the letters and make sure they’re sincere.”
    â€œIs that agreeable to you, Darrah?”
    â€œCan’t I mail them?”
    â€œNo,” said my father, “I think you should deliver them yourself. And apologize in person as well.”
    Thanks Dad. Thanks for making this harder for me. I glared at him, then nodded and mumbled, “Sure.” What choice did I have?
    â€œGood.” Once again Mrs. Johnson reached for her cane to get up. Mrs. Barrett pretended not to see her.
    â€œDarrah, at our pre-circle interview, I told you that sanctions often are time spent helping in the community. Have you thought about helping out in the soup kitchen or charity thrift store on the weekends?”
    â€œLast year Darrah was very involved with her school’s drama program,” said my father. “She often had to rehearse on the weekends. We think it would be good for her to participate again this year.”
    â€œI don’t understand,” said Mrs. Barrett. “I thought Darrah missed her chance to be in the play.”
    â€œThat wasn’t a school play I was auditioning for, that was amateur theatre, real theatre, nothing to do with the