I'm Late {For History Class lolol}

I really do take assignments where we hafta write a story too seriously, huh?

I’m late.
I realize this as the sun hits my lidded eyes and I slowly wake from my deep sleep. No one had awoken me like usual, so for a moment I thought there was no work to be done. Of course, my eyes had to wander over to the calendar made of knotted string and I saw that today was a work day, like most.
My mind, a bit groggy from waking without any startling yelling bouncing off the sides of my small room, didn’t know what this meant until several seconds later.
It meant school was today.
School starts when the lower edge of the sun was resting on the horizon this time of year, but now it was up a bit, at least an hour’s time.
I jolted out of my hay filled bed and shrugged off my sleeping gown for more appropriate school clothing. School clothing was dyed and beautiful compared to the torn, dull clothing of the farmers and my family. We weren’t rich, but the city called for more scribes and it provided an opportunity for us.
My parents tell me I had already made up a silly alphabet by my sixth summer alive, but I have no memory of it. It’s been another six summers, after all. I’m already almost to graduate from school and live on my own, given maybe a few more years.
Out of my room which could barely fit me anymore, I encountered my sister, busily scraping the skin off some newly harvested wheat. She would be starting her first year, if she went to school with me and if she were male. Instead, she usually was cooking or cleaning all day with our mother.
I uttered a quick ‘good morning’, which was enough to make her look up for a moment and reply, “You’re not at school?”
“Uh… No. I’m heading off now, though. I just was saying hi before leaving.”
She blinked at me and her deep brown eyes scanned the horizon. She was getting pretty good with reading the time, so I stiffened.
“Mom’s going to be angry, you know.”
I stuttered a chuckle, “I know, I know. I’m going now…”
Leaving my sister before she could say anything more, I exited our small house and ran up to the dirt road leading to the city.
Our house was surrounded by fields, which my family helped grow, but we weren’t more than a thirty minute walk away from the city. It was called Lagash, which I always thought was an absurd sounding name. It made me think of some disgusting soup. Nonetheless, it was where my school was and I needed to run if I had any hope of not being killed by the teacher.
Though I didn’t really like the classes, I was—and still am—interested in Cuneiform. I’m always writing in the dirt outside our house, though my father likes to rub his feet all over it’s existence. He never did like that his son was the only non-solider or farmer in our small village. Sure, I occasionally get picked on for it, but I can reply with large words I learn in the city, which seems to confuse the kids for at least a moment enough to get away from them.
Passing by our closest neighbor, I slow down for a minute to wave at him. He used to live as a solider in the city, but after he broke his foot in a battle, he left and began to farm out here.
He waves back, but not enthusiastically.
I can see why.
He’s using his plow right now, but it’s not in the best shape. I had also heard from my mother that he’s been having trouble with his right leg. I watch it as he stumbles along in pain, and it limps around, not contributing to anything.
Before he can realize that I’m so late to school, I bolt off on the road again.
Fifteen minutes have passed and I’m completely out of breath, though the road has changed to stone by now. I can see colorful merchant booths in the distance and a line of patrolling soldiers just from where I am.
Just a couple minutes more and I’m finally in the heart of the city, surrounded by people buying and selling objects. Just two more blocks until I can touch the door of the school.
A minute later, I’m inside the school. It’s silent and I feel awkward being this late. I shift my bag over a bit and walk down the hallway to the class I should be in at the moment.
Sneakily entering through the door didn’t help me get caught by the teacher, who was doing a vocabulary lesson.
“So, Ezekiel. You’ve finally joined us?” He asks, glaring over the book in his hands and causing the ten other boys in the class to look over to me.
I gulp and attempt to think of an excuse for my tardiness. “Uh… Well, my father wanted me to help out my sister, who was going through the newly harvested wheat. You see, my mom’s out today, helping our aunt with something. Anyway, I was helping m sister when suddenly a wolf came out of the field and decided my sister would be a tasty morsel! So, he leaped out and I attacked him with a stick! It made this ‘whoosh’ noise. The wolf looked at me and our dog came to help by lunging at him and they got into this huge fight. We watched in fear as we thought our dog would die but somehow he scared off the wolf and he fled into the field again. Then I realized how late it was and rushed here…” I knew that story wouldn’t work. I had gotten too caught up in it and made it much too surreal, especially noting how my appearance didn’t help. My hair was messier than usual, I hadn’t even tried to fix it, along with the fact that I really just looked like I had gotten out of bed not too long ago and just ran here.
The teacher stared me down for a few moments as I began to feel my hands get clammy and twitchy.
“You better not waste everything you’ve learned in school on silly stories like that, mister.”
Whoops. I guess I have.