If Lithia had learned anything about human schooling, it was this: "Field trips" were just another way of saying, "Here's a day off for teachers, hope the kids don't set the place on fire." This week's babysitting destination? The Oakridge Museum of Probably Should've Been Condemned Relics.
The buses smelled like a mix of wet sneakers and crushed teenage dreams. Students were crammed onboard like discount cattle, while the teachers clutched their clipboards like shields against the inevitable chaos. Lithia, naturally, claimed the last row like it was her personal command post.
But this trip? Came with new faces.
Introducing: The Forgotten Squad.
First up, Darren — a name you'd spot on every attendance sheet but couldn't match to a face if your life depended on it. Kid had the energy of a screensaver, existing somewhere between "invisible" and "who?"
Then there was Juno — a transfer who'd been orbiting the background long enough that even the other kids forgot they'd met her. Total blank slate, like a character waiting for their side quest to start.
And finally, Cassie, aka the 'ghost-girl.' Not the haunting type, just pale enough to blend into drywall and quiet enough to make monks seem chatty. Her idea of conversation? Eyebrow charades and existential stares during algebra.
The museum trip had all the charm of a discount horror flick — dusty relics, dead-eyed mannequins, and absolutely zero bars on your phone. The plot twist came when Darren, in true background-character fashion, leaned a little too hard against a Celtic rune stone — the sort of thing that belonged deep in a tomb, not propped up next to the gift shop.
Cue the light show: the stone lit up like a malfunctioning Christmas decoration, and before Lithia could say, "Knew this joint was cursed," the floor dropped them into another pocket dimension.
This one? A maze built from nightmares.
Endless stone walls shifting like a Rubik's Cube, and above them, a sky smeared in green and black oil-slick clouds. At the center sat a throne cobbled together from bones and busted vending machines, and parked right on it: The Archivist — some ancient, shriveled god-thing that hoarded forgotten stories, objects, and, apparently, people.
"Welcome to my archive," it rasped, voice stretching out like a funeral bell. "Once forgotten, always mine."
Lithia cracked her neck, deadpan. "Cute. I've dated worse."
Turns out The Archivist ran on the currency of obscurity — the more overlooked you were, the tighter its grip. Darren, Juno, and Cassie? Practically buffet items. Human wallflowers.
Cue the action montage.
The maze morphed on cue, walls grinding and twisting, splitting Lithia from the squad. The only way out? Get noticed. Be loud. Make waves. Lithia's specialty.
She lit the place up like a goth-themed Fourth of July, sending out enough aura to force the dimension to pay attention. Meanwhile, the Forgotten Trio had their own epiphany: blending in was the problem.
Juno broke her personal record for words per minute, spitting out museum facts like a caffeinated tour guide. Darren, ever the wildcard, waved around a pilfered Roman coin like it was a flare gun. And Cassie? Climbed a statue and struck the most cursed T-pose in existence, hollering, "NOTICE ME, YOU COWARD."
Overloaded by the sudden flood of attention, The Archivist crumbled under what could only be described as catastrophic social anxiety.
The group crash-landed back in the fossil wing, sprawled between two T-Rex skulls, with the teachers none the wiser.
Juno shot Lithia a rare full sentence: "So... what now?"
Lithia dusted off her sleeves, cool as ever. "Next time, let's skip waking the ancient Reddit mods."
Darren blinked. "Think this counts as extra credit?"
Lithia snorted. "At this school? Not a chance."
Later that night, back at the Hensley house, Lithia sat by her window, flipping the Roman coin Darren had "accidentally" left behind. A faint glow still pulsed from it — proof the dimension hadn't let go entirely.
"Forgotten people," she mused, smirking to herself. "Underrated assets. Might hang onto them."
Because whether it's this world or the next, the overlooked ones? Sooner or later, they flip the board.
End of Chapter 9.