"Go on, git!" shouted Rockets owner Kamal, who was driving the van. "And don't come home before dinner!"
The Rockets skipped merrily into PayCom center, lead by eldest Rocket Fred VanVleet, who had this season graduated from lunch boxes covered in cartoon animals to a mature brown bagged lunch. He held his brown bag proudly as he walked into the arena's lobby, waving at Principal Presti and Mr. Daigneault, his favorite teacher.
Not every Rocket, however, was so happy to be dropped off. One of the newest Rockets, Nah'Shon Hyland, was seen clinging to AllenOJ's leg and pleading to stay in the car.
"I don't wanna!" he cried, explaining through blubbering tears that the other kids always bullied him. "They throw their half-eaten chicken wings at me and call me 'Bones'," he wept. "And they're all bigger than me and taller and they all have owners who love them."
AllenOJ half-heartedly comforted Hyland before pushing him away. "Just do your best, honey," he said, not having listened.
Kamal was still sitting in the driver's seat, looking through profiles of other Rockets he could adopt in this summer's lottery.
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