A. Scream "You hate me!" and lock yourself in your room and write bad poetry.Apparently the cool thing to do out in the Seattle 'burbs these days is "D." Maybe it's just the rosy glow imparted by memory, but I seem to recall that back when I was in high school kids weren't so high-strung, (or at least we were more thoroughly cowed by the thought of something like this going on our permanent record.)
C. Apologize profusely and try for a plea agreement.
D. Grab your compound bow, put a broadhead through dad's brisket, gather up three dozen more arrows and lead the local SWAT team on a chase through the woods like a pint-sized Rambette.
Remember: Bows don't kill people; teen drama queens do.