These boots were made for walkin'

Schools in cold places don't go in for that open-air-separate-buildings thing, where classrooms all open to the outdoors. Where I went to school there was a building entrance, a huge bootroom/cloakroom, then hallways that led to the classrooms. Kind of like Hogwarts, only completely different.

Anyway, school rules said you had to leave your boots in the bootroom, and wear runners (tennis shoes) or stocking feet in the rest of the school.
One day after school -- about 3rd grade -- I remembered I had forgotten something inside, so I went back in w/o taking off my boots. I glimpsed a friend of mine alone in the library and went over to say hi to her. She looked up and pointed behind me in horror -- I'd left muddy black bootprints all across the blue/gray carpet. I gaped for a second, then ran for it.

The next day we had a school assembly, during which the principal mentioned that "some clown" had tracked mud all through the library. My friend, who was sitting near me, looked at me and mouthed "YOU." I shook my head and frowned in feigned puzzlement and annoyance (ie, What in the world are you talking about?)

The "incident" appeared in our student newspaper as well. I was anonymous, yet famous. When my dad read the paper, he asked "So, did they catch you yet?"
I once again feigned ignorance, and pretended I thot he was joking. Later reflection led me to conclude that my friend -- who lived down the street -- must have shopped me to him. Why else would he say something so odd?

In any case, I was never caught and Dad never mentioned it again. Years later, I mustered the courage to ask him if he had known I was guilty -- he said he didn't even remember the incident. So I guess I've gotten off scott free. The perfect crime.

I didn't say this story had a point.