Perhaps today is the last day I’ll ever be a middle school student. After just one more entrance exam, I’ll be stepping into high school. The final middle school graduation ceremony was truly emotional. My class had been together for four years. It was especially meaningful after our homeroom teacher joined us in 7th grade, and that year, our class went through our teenage years together. From cheering for our school's football team during matches to screaming at the top of our lungs, and all the field trips we took... For four years, we experienced all those youthful moments together.
After the ceremony in the schoolyard, we returned to our classroom for a party—a final gathering for our student life. Our class of 49 people shared so many beautiful memories during our school days. At first, we were all laughing and talking as usual. No one wanted to cry at this final farewell. But our homeroom teacher was the first one to get teary-eyed. She reminisced about the first day she met and talked to our class. She remembered the spring festival fairs where we sold things together before Tet and the fun parties we had. She cried so much that it was heartbreaking; she loved us like her own children. She was always gentle, or perhaps she was just born that way. Even when she scolded us, it was for our own good, to give us righteous advice. Maybe that's why we loved her so much. It's just a shame that our middle school years were so short and we had to part ways so soon.
The classroom was decorated with balloons and flowers. The desks were filled with cakes, candies, milk tea, and lemon tea. On the blackboard, the words "Class B9 Year-End Summary" were clearly written in bold. The girls gathered around our homeroom teacher at the podium for one last chat, while a few boys comforted her, and others prepared for the party. Some people freely expressed their sorrow and cried out loud, while others, though they seemed strong, felt a deep sadness inside.
When the party started, everyone went back to their seats. Our teacher stood at the podium and shared her feelings about us, her graduating students. She projected images and videos on the screen, showing all the memories we had shared, including our dance rehearsals. She had saved all of them in a folder on her computer. Everyone in the class was overcome with emotion. We all seemed to wish we could express our feelings to one another. Together, we wrote our signatures on our homeroom teacher’s class shirt. The signatures of all 49 students, along with hers, were an unforgettable memory for many of us. The class shirt was now surrounded by the signatures of all the students, with the teacher's signature right in the center, a symbol of our gratitude for her care.
After the party, our class stayed behind to clean up the classroom one last time before we left. In contrast to the initial tears, there was now the sound of giggling in the room. I don't know if I'll ever hear it again. Suddenly, a knock on the door made us all turn to look.
A Trip to Remember
This was probably the last trip of our middle school years with all of our members present. My class had about 47 people; a few had transferred in or out over the years, which probably created many memories for me personally. As for my class, we were quite good at school movements and great at sports, and we were decent academically, with 24 excellent students this year. As for our class's relationships, even if we disliked someone, we still treated them normally. Maybe that's why there was rarely any drama in our class, and if there was, it was often quite shocking. Sometimes, it was just pretty funny.
We gathered at the school at around 5:30, and the sky was still pitch black. To be honest, I was a little late. In the car with my mom, I was probably being a bit silly, begging her to drive faster so we wouldn't miss the departure time. But my mom said we'd probably leave at 6:00 because that's what her classes always did. InIn the end, I lost a third of the money I planned to spend on the trip because I had a bet with my mom about whether we'd be late or not. When we arrived at school, the sight of students chatting and not being gathered up was a little strange, confirming my mom's point: "I gave birth to you, I know you." I ran to find my class's meeting spot, and a moment later, my friends saw me and pulled me toward the group. To describe that moment? Well, it was a funny, chaotic mess. We had to wait for a while until everyone had arrived before we could get on the bus. I sat next to my close friends; we wanted to be in the front to avoid getting carsick. When the bus started to move, I noticed that the sky was completely bright. I looked at the clock—6:00. Maybe it wasn't worth the effort to get here so early, after all.
The bus rolled on. Once everyone was seated, our class's tour guide stepped out of the front passenger seat. She was probably a recent intern because I thought she was quite young. She wore a standard guide uniform, which seemed comfortable enough for the winter weather. Holding a microphone, she smiled brightly and introduced herself: "My name is Tran Hoang Thanh, and I hope we have a fun time together, everyone." Our class got a little rowdy after hearing that, but then our homeroom teacher shouted, "Quiet!" The noise level dropped to whispers, making it easier for our teacher to talk with the guide. The start of the bus ride was truly a fun time. My best friend and I invited our homeroom teacher to sing karaoke, one friend brought a stuffed animal, and another brought an entire one-kilo box of cakes to share with the whole class. We also pulled some pranks, like tying shoelaces to chairs. That time was so much fun.
When we arrived at an amusement park, we were given a bracelet-like electric wristband. They all looked the same, kind of like an electric watch, but they were actually used to get through the entrance. The strange thing was that the guards made us wear this wristband to enter the park; if we refused, we would get a refund and not be allowed in. Since that was the only rule, we all followed it. A few people tried to resist but were scolded by the teachers. It was a park rule, and if we didn't wear them, we couldn't go in, so we had to comply.
The amusement park was incredibly spectacular. Comparing it to the fantastical worlds of Alice in Wonderland or Peter Pan would be a fair match. There were huge, magnificent mansions, as well as areas resembling oceans and mountains. It was a fascinating place. Our tour guide led us to a place to store our belongings. Our week-long trip was more of a rest and relaxation retreat. According to the schedule, we had to be divided into rooms. You know that kind of room assignment based on the alphabet? We had to be divided that way, but was it really going to be 30 people in one room? Yes, it was the truth. We would be divided into groups based on our names and grades, not our classes, to be fair—to have a mix of athletic people, smart people, and so on. And each group of 30 would have a manager. Just think, 30 boys and girls of this age living together in one space for an entire week... It was a little strange considering the total of 237 students in our 8th-grade class. While I was thinking, I realized that my group had quite a few people I knew, both people I liked and disliked. Fortunately, we weren't sharing a single room, but rather, each person would have their own floor, as rooms were assigned per floor. My room assignment had not been determined yet.
Although we were on the same team, for the games, we would compete with our own class, kind of like a confrontation. The tour guide was still in charge of the games for our class. The first game was a shooting game, which my class was going to play because the area was a mountainous forest. The guide had us divide our class of 47 people (she also participated because the number of players was odd) into groups of 6, 8, or 12, depending on what our class wanted. We chose the 8-person rule, so we were divided into 6 groups. The rule of the game was that when the number of un-shot players drops to about 24, the game would end. We each played a kind of hunting game, but everyone was given a pistol with fake bullets inside. We had 5 minutes to find a place to hide before we started hunting each other. It was a game where physical strength was the main advantage.My group consisted of me, Ethan, and seven of my close friends: Lyra, Theo, Blake, Amber, Duke, and Tessa. Even though we were close, our initial plan of finding a team leader caused an argument, as everyone wanted the role except for me and one girl who immediately withdrew. In the end, we settled on Lyra as our leader through rock-paper-scissors, since she was already a class leader. That process alone took three minutes, making it difficult for us to find a place to gather. The area was quite run-down, though not exactly dilapidated.
The game started with the sound of a shot, though we didn't know where it came from. We left our meeting point and split into four groups to scout, protect our base, or loot. I was assigned to a group with Blake. Since we were on the same main team, it made sense. Perched in a tree and observing everything through the walkie-talkie, I could easily contact my teammates, but they didn't seem very responsible. After five minutes, a voice came from the loudspeaker:
"Every five minutes, we will announce the eliminated players and the number of remaining participants. To start: 4 players have been eliminated, leaving 44 players left."
The voice continued reading the names of those who were out. Only a few minutes in and a whole group was already gone. It didn't worry us much because my group was full of expert gamers—except for me; I’m a bad player. Suddenly, I heard a shot nearby. It was a confrontation between Group 1 and Group 7. They probably didn't dare to shoot yet, so Blake and I saw our chance and shot both of them.
Strangely, they suddenly fainted. We thought it was just acting and stayed cautious, but then I remembered what the guide had said: when a bullet is fired, the shell burns and releases a substance that causes the player to faint upon impact. To protect us, the forest was equipped with cameras. We took their gear and left. The haul was interesting: a pair of binoculars, plenty of ammo, and a suppressor. Since there was only one suppressor, we decided to take it back to share. However, because the area was so vast, we got lost and ended up at Group 7’s base. It was a luxurious setup, guarded by four players. It seemed they were focused entirely on defense. Did this game really distinguish between teams so starkly?
I called my group on the walkie-talkie. Lyra assigned me to stay behind and scout Group 7’s base while Blake took the gear back. I followed orders. Fortunately, the deal was that I got to keep the binoculars and the suppressor. Physical strength wasn't my advantage, but my slow, deliberate movements turned out to be a blessing as I wasn't detected. The suppressor made it easier to hide and infiltrate. I actually had to crawl through a small "dog hole" to get in.
Just as I was dusting off my clothes, a shot was fired. I dodged it by pure luck. After I returned fire and took the shooter down, I realized it was our vice-class leader. I scavenged his gear, finding a few more interesting items.
"Number 4, what's your status?" a voice suddenly crackled from his walkie-talkie, followed by a series of taps. One short tap, silence; then one long, one short, two long... It was Morse code. 'A,' 'Y,' 'S'... maybe "Are you sure?" I responded in Morse using the letter 'Y' for 'Yes,' and luckily, they let me through.
As I tried to find their weapon storage, my luck wavered. I was discovered just as I entered the room. In the darkness, I used the light from my watch to my advantage to disorient and take down the guard. I realized my glowing wristband had become a disadvantage, so I covered it with my shirt. But the noise from the scuffle drew another person to the room. Hiding behind the door, the suppressor helped me easily take down one more player.
By then, my luck had likely run out because the elimination announcement began to echo again. Without stopping to listen, I grabbed as much gear as I could to escape. It wasn't easy; I hadn't accounted for the sheer weight of the loot.
By the time I escaped the perimeter, I was exhausted. Hearing a noise, I quickly dove into a bush. A few people had spotted me. While running, I threw some of the gear into an open spot as bait. It worked—two players emerged; one chased me, while the other went for the gear. Oh... did I mention I found a grenade there?
Just as I took down the person chasing me, an explosion went off in the distance where I’d left the bait. I don't know how I found the energy to run so fast. Before I could process what was happening, a knife was pressed against my neck.
"The game is over!" the loudspeaker blared.
I sighed and pushed the person away. Looking up, I realized it wasn't anyone from my class. It was Mason from Class E!
