THIRTY - FIVE

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MAIA has never rewatched Avengers: Endgame so many times in her life, but a twelve hour flight meant that if she watched it four times in a row starting from takeoff, then she'd be in Melbourne around the time the fourth watch was over. So, that's exactly how she killed time on the plane—and she's pretty sure that she could now recite all of Tony Stark's lines without trying.

But finally, after dealing with the pain of waiting to collect her luggages, and managing through the sizable building, she's officially found herself in the back of her parents' car—and she feels the exact same way that she used to when they would pick her up from school. Except, this time around, the 'school' was the Melbourne Airport, and her backpack was a huge luggage and two carry-ons that were all stowed away in the trunk of the vehicle.

"Has the house changed much?" Maia asks, head turning from the car window to her parents, who were in the driver's and passenger's seats of the car.

Her dad glances at her in the rearview mirror, then back to the road. "Not really. We changed the ceiling fan in the living room though since it was as old as you are."

Maia hums with a smile, and turns her attention back to the window outside.

The city of Melbourne passes her by as the car goes on, and it's a weird feeling to acknowledge that even when she hasn't been here in so long, she still remembers the sights with ease.

She faces the front of the car again, and catches a glimpse of the small clock on the dashboard that reads '3:19.'

"I'm sorry you guys woke up so early," she pouts, leaning in between the two front seats.

"Is your seatbelt on?" Her mom asks, turning to face her daughter. After Maia nods a response, her mother shakes her head. "We already told you, Maia, it's alright. We're your parents. If you're coming home to us, then you're not taking some stuffy Uber to our house."

Maia puts on a crooked smile, and tilts her head. "Most Ubers are really nice, mom."

"Even though."

Maia lets out a small 'ha' and sits back on the leather chair of the backseat, and continues to look outside of her window to kick away the time.

Or, that was the plan originally.

"I'm sure Oscar will be happy to see you," her dad says.

UNTIL THE SONG WAS DONE, oscar piastriDonde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora