Throughout the year, my friend and I eagerly anticipated the one overseas vacation we'd been planning for ages. I wish I could recall exactly where we traveled, but the memory is hazy. It was a beautiful destination, and I vividly remember how thrilled we were.
We explored a few spots around the city, including an amusement park where we rode a roller coaster for the first time. My favorite experience was at a theater where an incredible play was underway. The performance was stunning and, though it lasted for hours, it felt like only minutes had passed. Afterward, we picked up a load of souvenirs to bring back home as gifts for friends and family.
A little while after the show, we unexpectedly bumped into one of our teachers, who had also attended the play. It was a surprise, but given that we were all on vacation, there was no need to worry about anything school-related—or so we thought.
Our teacher mentioned that she was in town for a conference and suggested we join her, claiming it was a lot of fun and that we'd enjoy it. Although we were skeptical, we decided to go along.
When we arrived, the venue looked like any other conference center—a sprawling building filled with scholarly types. She guided us to a quieter area with fewer people and an oddly subdued atmosphere. I started feeling uneasy. She asked us to stay silent as we entered a smaller room, and the sight before us was unsettling.
Dozens of people—likely students—were seated, taking some sort of test. Some of the faces looked familiar. I mentally face-palmed. Our teacher instructed us to sit down and participate in the test. I could sense my friend's rising panic behind me, while I debated whether to bolt. But our teacher was, quite literally, standing guard at the door. This couldn't be legal, right? Knowing her, though, I shouldn't have been surprised.
We both sat down quietly and started on the test. Fortunately, it was straightforward, so our plan was to finish quickly and escape. Only then did I realize that my bag, packed with all our souvenirs, was missing—likely left back at the theater. I informed our teacher about it, but she simply told me to focus on the test, assuring me she would retrieve it. I should have known she'd say that.
