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1 PERMISSION SLIP SLIP-UP
Have you ever had one of those days where you wake up and everything is just right?
Usually, my days are a messy blur of running late, spilling sticky breakfast all over me, or accidentally wearing two different shoes.
But today? It was nothing like that.
Today, I arrived at school extra early. I was extra excited. Everything was extra perfect. This was because today was... FIELD TRIP DAY!
It was like the weekend traded places with a weekday, bringing my friends along for the fun!
Outside the school building, my class gathered at the school’s bus zone. Kids chatted excitedly, dressed in their field-trip best.
Jake Gold, all-star athlete and all-star best friend, was doing something strange with his knees. This was called “exercising.”
My other friend, Regina du Lar, coached him with her tablet. She tapped it and a sound came out like a coach’s whistle. FWEEET!
“Time out!” she shouted, then smiled at me. “Look, Jake, [Redacted] is here!”
“Ninety-eight... ninety-nine... one hundred!” Jake counted out loud. He paused his jumping jacks and smiled. “Hey, bro! Don’t mind me. I’m just prepping to be the fastest thing at the zoo today.”
That’s where we were going today—the zoo. And it seemed like Jake was ready to race whatever he found in there.
“Good luck with that,” I said, then realized we were missing someone. “Huh. Where’s Glinda?”
“Right here,” Regina replied, taking a step to the side.
Glinda Alegre, the final member of the group, stood behind Regina. Instead of her usual clothing, she wore a loose outfit with skulls on it.
I raised my eyebrows. “Is Glinda wearing... pajamas?”
“Yes, she’s still sleeping,” Regina explained. “When Glinda’s having a really good nightmare, she would rather stay in it.”
“How is that possible?” I asked, waving my hand in front of Glinda’s sleeping face. “And who has good nightmares?”
Glinda let out a long snore.
“Line up, class!” a voice suddenly called.
It was our teacher, Mr. Hughes, standing by a bus door. He wore an elephant hat, with large ears on either side of his head. “You know the drill. I need signed permission slips before you take your seat on the Zoo Express!”
“It’s just a bus,” the driver called from his seat.
“A Zoo Express bus,” Mr. Hughes corrected.
Kids opened their backpacks and pulled out their signed slips. This was my cue to get mine. I dug around and found an old cookie, loose pencils, and basically everything but a signed piece of paper.
Just where was that slip?
“Come on, [Redacted]!” Regina called, filing onto the bus with everyone else.
Oh no. I started to panic.
My slip was nowhere to be found. I felt like I was suddenly spiraling into a nightmare of my own. And not a “good” kind like Glinda’s.
