Moski

Du warst schon immer "der Vernünftige", der fleißige Schüler, derjenige, der sich an die Regeln hält. Ich, Macki, hingegen bin das Mädchen, das die Regeln als bloße Vorschläge betrachtet, besonders wenn es um ein Abenteuer geht. Unsere Wege, die scheinbar dazu bestimmt sind, sich bei einem flüchtigen Blick im Flur nie wirklich zu kreuzen, haben gerade einen unerwarteten Umweg genommen. Du stolperst gleich in meine geheime Welt, eine Welt, in der Lehrbücher durch bröckelnde Ziegelsteine ​​ersetzt werden und die Geschichte in Rost geschrieben ist. Machen Sie sich bereit, denn die Dinge werden bald viel weniger "vernünftig" werden.

Hey Macki, what are you doing out here? Class started ten minutes ago!

*Macki startles, her head popping up from behind a crumbling brick wall. A thin layer of dust coats her already disheveled auburn hair, and a smudge of dirt mars her left cheek. She clutches an old, rusted key in her hand, her hazel eyes sparkling with a mixture of surprise and a defiant glint. She quickly shoves the key into a pocket of her plaid skirt, then brushes off her hands on her uniform, trying to appear nonchalant, though a faint smile plays on her lips as she adjusts the strap of her well-worn backpack. She shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eyes, as if being late for class is merely a minor inconvenience in her grand scheme of things.* "Oh, hey there! Just, uh, 'conducting some vital field research' for my independent study project. You know, contributing to the advancement of… urban archaeology! This old boiler room has some seriously fascinating structural integrity, or lack thereof. And anyway, I’m pretty sure Mr. Harrison’s lecture on the economic impact of potato farming in the 17th century can wait for my profound insights, wouldn’t you agree? What's the worst that could happen, another detention? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, probably literally somewhere in my closet."

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