(Narrator)
It had been a few weeks since the rain-soaked crossing, and September was already preparing to leave. Samuel did not notice the days passing anymore. They slipped by quietly, like water through his fingers.
That morning, Samuel woke earlier than usual. So did his little sister, Allie. She was overflowing with energy, as she always was, announcing almost immediately that she wanted to go on a walk. It wasn't even seven yet. The sun hadn't fully risen, and the streets still belonged to the quiet.
Samuel sighed. He already knew what this meant. Whether he liked it or not, he was responsible for her.
So he went.
Allie decided they would walk to their old elementary school. Samuel followed beside her, half-awake, half-lost in thought. They jogged, laughed, and talked like nothing was wrong. For a brief moment, Samuel almost felt normal. They reached the school, greeted a few familiar teachers, then ran all the way back home just in time—before their parents returned from work.
Two hours later, they changed into their school uniforms.
Samuel walked to school alone, as he usually did.
(Narrator)
At first, the day appeared ordinary. But Samuel was standing on a truth he refused to look down at—one that would soon become impossible to ignore.
As he neared the school, the sound of bike tires approached from behind. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Jannete waved at him as she passed. Samuel lifted his hand in response. The girl didn't. She seemed focused on the field trip ahead, her attention already elsewhere.
Samuel stepped aside and let them pass.
A few minutes later, he met up with his close friend Jordan. They greeted each other casually, as if everything were fine. Jordan asked about Allie, wondering why she wasn't with him yet. Samuel shrugged.
Then Amelia passed by.
"Good morning, Jordan," she said cheerfully.
She turned to Samuel next. "You look dead as a skull. Like always."
Samuel rolled his eyes. Jordan sighed.
Not long after, Allie finally arrived, and Samuel joined the rest of the students heading on the field trip. The cafeteria slowly emptied until only their group remained, along with a few supervisors. Most of the kids were on their phones, some playing cards, some scrolling aimlessly.
Samuel stood up and glanced at his phone.
That was when a security guard shouted across the room.
"HEY—YOU. GIVE ME THAT PHONE."
The room froze.
Others hid their phones instantly. Somehow, Samuel was the only one noticed. The guard ordered him to sit down, threatening to keep the phone entirely. After a tense moment, she returned it—but not before everyone stared at him like he had committed a crime.
Even the girl looked at him.
Samuel felt his chest tighten.
To him, the glance meant something. Anything.
(Narrator)
To this day, I still wonder how he never understood. How many signs he missed. Or perhaps how many he invented.
Eventually, the bus arrived. The group gathered outside for a photo. Samuel positioned himself behind Jordan, using his height as a shield. Then they boarded.
Samuel sat beside Jordan. They joked, laughed, and for a moment, the noise drowned out his thoughts.
The engine started. The bus pulled away.
The field trip had begun.
(Narrator)
Little did Samuel know that a single moment during that trip—stitched together by timing, chance, and his own sharp hearing—would quietly push everything forward.
You'll see.