As such, while the nerve war between those trying to capture and those wanting to leave continued on a spaceship.
The two individuals about to finish their luxurious nine-day journey in the United States.
Since their mental ages were completely different, it was rare that their thoughts would overlap, but as the end of the trip approached, such thoughts began to arise.
‘I don’t want to go home.’
The purpose of this trip was to struggle to escape from the ridiculous nickname of “full attendance beggar.”
…That was it.
The smartphone gallery was full to bursting with photos of suited uncles and us.
They had taken so many photos that the gallery, which originally stored only funny pictures circulating on the internet, had started to smell distinctly American.
In front of the symbolic presence of each tourist attraction, Shiyeon and I posed, extending our index and middle fingers to show a V sign, with the back of our hands visible to the camera.
Although I was trying my best to look like I was enjoying it, it felt more like I was completely immersed in sightseeing and luxurious living.
“I don’t want to go home—!”
“Hehe.”
Every time I muttered it internally, I eventually let that phrase slip out due to disappointment.
To our expression of regret, the uncle, who was getting dressed, chuckled.
As the time for checkout at the hotel approached, that disappointment became even more palpable.
The luxurious marble floors and the long, wide red carpet in the lobby.
All those fantastic sights began to feel distant, like a dream of just one night.
From the streets to the car, from the car to the airport, and from the airport to the airplane.
As they moved from the airport to the airplane, a disgusting scent wafted through, reminiscent of burning grass.
Initially, I thought it was the famous American body odor, but it turned out to be the scent of marijuana, which is considered quite mainstream.
I was relieved that this smell was not legal in Korea, and I settled into that wide seat, just like on the way here.
Before the airplane took off, the uncle who had helped us the most and cooperated in taking photos approached and asked indirectly.
“Did you enjoy the trip?”
“Yes!”
“Thanks to you, we took a lot of photos… Thank you.”
Shiyeon replied energetically in a one-dimensional way.
I nodded my head, politely expressing gratitude since the nine-day trip to the United States was quite comfortable thanks to him.
“Well, I’m glad to hear you had fun.”
Saying that with a cheerful smile, the uncle took something out from within his clothing and handed it to me, saying something fluently.
“If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call this number instead of going through Senior Jiun.”
“Oh, yes… Thank you.”
I received the thin rectangular piece of paper with both hands, feeling almost unnecessary for my formality.
It was a business card, from a member of the National Assembly.
With his name and phone number printed boldly, it felt like something that should be treated with respect.
To avoid crumpling it in my padded or pants pockets, I separated my smartphone case and tucked it in between.
That business card, visible behind the neat transparent case, somehow felt intimidating.
“Give me one too!”
“Sure, here you go.”
For some unknown reason, the stubborn Shiyeon asked for one too, and the uncle handed her an extra business card.
Shiyeon seemed to want to follow suit just because she saw me, and she received another one to tuck behind her smartphone case.
I couldn’t understand why she looked so proud, but either way, it was cute.
Thus began the 12-hour return journey starting from the airplane.
Stretching my stiff body and fastening my seatbelt with a sigh, I reset the smartphone time from American standards back to Seoul’s standards, and I laid back with the seat reclined flat.
Sitting was more comfortable than standing, and lying down was more comfortable than sitting, after all.
During the nine-day journey, we had mostly resorted to bread and pastries.
The first meal on the flight was a unified Korean meal for both Shiyeon and me.
While the portion was small, the joy of seeing white rice again was significant.
As expected, the saying that Koreans thrive on rice rang true as we indulged in the final moments of luxury from our trip to America onboard the plane.
“Wow… did we take this many photos?”
After the return Friday, on Saturday.
Senior Jiun, who came to our house, was browsing through the photos from the trip saved on Shiyeon’s and my smartphones, including the fridge magnets stuck all over the refrigerator.
While Senior Jiun was holding the smartphone, I had to write a report about our field trip experience.
Since we had a great trip, it was time to prepare a report to submit to school.
“We didn’t expect to take so many photos.”
In response to Senior Jiun’s admiration about how many photos we had taken, I was selecting photos to print while fiddling on the computer.
Honestly, I had only planned to take a few photos for the report, yet the gallery was now filled with the ambiance of America.
After all, they say the things you bring back from your travels are souvenirs and photos, and these would someday become memories.
‘With this much, I won’t be teased as a full attendance beggar or anything, right?’
Moreover, even though it was somewhat embarrassing to call it a souvenir, there was an impressive wad of dollar bills confidently tucked in my wallet.
While it’s technically not much, just a bill worth around a thousand won, this little peculiarity can become a source of interest and popularity among the kids.
There was even a student who brought back a 1-yen or 5-yen coin from a trip to Japan, making a temporary feature in the classroom.
And as expected, such anticipations didn’t miss the mark.
On that following Monday, naturally, I received a flood of questions about where I had traveled from students who had some level of recognition in class.
In a light-hearted manner, I answered with “the United States,” and threw a dollar bill worth around a thousand won into the group of students before quickly escaping.
“Wow, American money!”
“My mom didn’t let me touch it.”
“Oh please, that’s annoying.”
After sacrificing a dollar bill, which I didn’t mind losing, I leaned against the back of my locker until things quieted down.
I opened my locker with a little key, took out today’s subject textbook, which had been sleeping through the trip, and placed it on top of the locker.
Then, I locked the little padlock back up while all the elementary school kids flocked to catch a glimpse of the dollar bill.
“Oh, stop looking; I want to show mine too!”
“I haven’t seen them all yet!”
“Is that yours?”
“I lent it to you, so it’s mine now!”
‘It’s my money, you little brats.’
Over a small amount equivalent to roughly 1300 won, the kids quarreled back and forth.
Eventually, the dollar ordeal was put to rest only after the teacher entered the classroom.
Our homeroom teacher was pretty close to what one would call a strict, temperamental teacher.
That might be why the kids tended to follow the control quite well, making things easier for me too.
“What are you all so noisy about?”
As the teacher approached the gathered group, the kids scattered like cockroaches in the light.
One student who hadn’t made it to safety was the boy still holding onto the dollar bill.
And as the teacher approached, the boy, instead of hiding it, offered it up.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“I’m confiscating it until class ends; you can come look for it afterward.”
The teacher took the dollar bill and returned to the teacher’s desk with it in hand.
The student, deprived of his bill, went back to his seat and sat expressionlessly there as if nothing had happened.
Meanwhile, I was nearing the breaking point.
It was a small amount of money that if I lost, I would shrug off, but still, money is money.
No matter how little, having it taken from me by someone else right in front of my eyes felt unpleasant.
And among the group of students who had gathered until the end of the sixth class, not a single one bothered to apologize.
Moreover, the young man who had taken it didn’t even go to the staff room; instead, as soon as school ended, he ran out through the back door of the classroom with a smile, as if nothing had ever happened.
That said, I found myself questioning whether it was worth the trouble to trudge to the staff room to bow my head over 1300 won, so I just left the classroom instead.
As I stepped out to the entrance, Shiyeon was physically expressing her excitement by raising and lowering her heels.
It seemed like she had somehow shed the humiliation of being called a full attendance beggar.
“Did you talk about the trip well?”
“Yeah! My classmates were super envious!”
It seemed she was happy to share, no matter how it played out.
Even though Shiyeon’s teasing problem was resolved, the next day.
The issue arose from an entirely unexpected place.
“Whose bill is this?”
I had no idea what triggered the teacher’s outburst button, but the atmosphere felt tense right from the morning assembly.
Naturally, if I didn’t raise my hand, no one else would for that question.
The boy who had his bill taken looked blankly at me, making me want to slap him across the face.
“Why didn’t you come looking for it yesterday?”
“Isn’t it his responsibility to go look for it since he got it taken?”
When borrowing someone else’s item and having it snatched, it’s only right for the one who lost it to go retrieve it.
Despite pointing out that obvious truth, the atmosphere continued to sink, and the homeroom teacher turned away.
Moreover, I had no idea what was going on in their head, but they pointed at me instead of the boy who had actually lost the bill.
“Kim Mari, come to the staff room.”
