Voice of the past

You look around, searching for your group. You really didn't want to come, but asking your subject teacher would be a bad idea. The voice of the class monitor flashes through your head, shouting about not being late. You've heard it so often that you can pronounce it exactly. Although you're not that late, everyone was supposed to meet at 11:00, and it's only 11:06. You pull your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans and open your messenger. You click on the chat with a classmate, quickly typing a message in the hopes of finding your group without help. You text your classmates about your inability to find them. A response comes instantly, a short beep from your phone.
—Where are you?
—There's no need to be late. We're already in the foyer. Come quickly, or the rector will chop your head off if you don't show up.
The threat is entirely realizable. You put your phone away and quickly walk to the entrance, pulling your hood tighter around yourself. The building is crowded. Among them, you can easily recognize your classmates—they're clearly not eager to waste their free time on this "professionally important" trip either. You quickly fall in line at the back of the group, greeting a couple of people, looking around for your friend. His ringing voice pulls you out of your thoughts.
"You're a bit late," he grins and throws his elbow over your shoulder, about to ruffle your hair. You manage to dodge the "execution" and jump to the side.

• Sorry, traffic jams.
  You exhale, following the others.
  —On Saturday? Traffic isn't that bad at eleven in the morning.
  He notices, settling in next to you and examining the neatly arranged rows of exhibits. This soon becomes tiresome. You decide to put on one earphone and slow down a bit so your friend can move ahead. You just want to breathe in the silence. Everything goes according to plan: he switches to someone else in the group and completely blends into the crowd. And then, accompanied by a fiery beat, memories of fights with your parents pop into your head.
  "Are you not even interested in your past?! Our ancestors gave their lives for us! Stop disgracing us! I did enroll, but