It was a perfectly average day in the life of a third grader. We learned solfege hand signs in music and now we were sitting in our ‘squads’, fidgeting impatiently while the coaches discussed something at their desk.
Come on, it’s the last hour until we can go home. Can’t we at least do something?, I thought.
BEEP : “Would Tom Ko come to the office? His parents are waiting to pick him up.”
Lucky!, I thought as Rocky gathered up his things and left.
The coaches kept on talking. We started chatting until they yelled at us to be quiet. I fingered my flowery purple shirt with matching pants, bored out of my skull.
BEEP : “Would Rob Koontz come to the office? His parents are waiting to pick him up.”
Lucky!, I thought again. Rob and Tom were best friends, so I suspected something (vastly off-mark).
9 more third graders left in bewilderment before they let us out.
Lucky!, I thought angrily as I got on my sweltering bus.
Then I got home and learned the true meaning of lucky; that I was,actually, very lucky.