It was a quiet evening, the kind that makes you want to sit under a tree and do nothing at all. Soft sunlight came in through the windows, casting long shadows across the classroom. The desks and chairs looked warmer in the light, like the whole room had relaxed.
The bell rang for the last time that day. I felt a small wave of relief. School was over.
I looked out the window, already thinking about dinner—maybe rice and soup, maybe something fried. The teacher gave one final glance around the room, then walked out slowly, quietly.
I stayed in my seat for a few seconds, just enjoying the stillness. Then I got up, I grabbed my bag and joined the flow of students spilling out of classrooms, footsteps echoing, voices blending into a steady hum.
"Ethan."
I heard my name, soft but clear, carried through the buzz of students heading home. I turned around and saw Mark jogging towards me, his backpack bouncing with each step. Just behind him was Sarah, walking at her usual calm pace, eyes half-lost in thought.
"Did you forget about us when you changed class?" Mark asked, his tone half‑teasing, half‑curious.
I shrugged and said, "Me? Forget you? That would take actual effort." He grinned and nudged me. "Yeah right. We were worried you'd leave us behind."
Sarah, walking beside us, piped up softly, "For a second, it kind of felt like it." I paused, tightening the straps of my backpack, and smiled,
"Nah—new class, same crew."
"I know you can't survive without my jokes, man," Mark said with a smug expression. "More like bad jokes," Sarah added. I chuckled lightly.
The low rumble of a truck echoed from the school's entrance. A small crowd had gathered, blocking the view. Curious, we moved closer, and as we passed, the source came into sight—a large museum truck with The Metropolitan Museum of Antiquities printed clearly on the side.
A weird chill crept over me. Something felt... off.
"Isn't that where my da—"
"Ethan!"
I froze.
Jonathan—my dad—was waving from the driver's seat, cheerful as ever. He leaned out the window, his grin shining like the truck's polished mirrors.
"Hey, Ethan! Hop in, we've got a schedule to keep!" he shouted, completely unaware of the horror blooming on my face.
My heart sank. I didn't even need to turn around to know people were staring. Mark let out a low whistle. "That's your ride?" Sarah covered her mouth, clearly trying not to laugh. "It's... very official."
I looked down, already feeling my face turn red. A museum truck. At school pickup. Could it get any worse?
"Dad, can you not yell like that?" I muttered as I walked up, trying to pretend this wasn't happening. He just beamed, completely unaware. "Why? I wanted to make sure you didn't miss me!"
Mark called after me, grinning. "Save us some dinosaur bones!" I slumped into the seat and shut the door. The truck pulled away, but I could still feel the secondhand laughter trailing behind us.
I felt a flicker of annoyance, but curiosity quickly overpowered it. In a slightly irritated tone, I asked, "How are you even able to bring a museum truck to school? Wouldn't bringing such a truck cause you trouble?"
"Oh, it's nothing," Dad said with a shrug, his voice laced with casual nonchalance, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
"All the security guys are my buddies. I just told them, 'Hey, quick pit stop to pick up my son,' and they waved me through like it was no big deal. Besides, how many kids get to ride home in the back of a mummy truck? It's a once-in-a-lifetime experience!"
I let out a sigh and muttered, "Yeah, lucky me," my voice dripping with a mix of sarcasm and mild annoyance.
//not completed