The Vanisher

Back a few years ago, one of the world's most mysterious crimes ever committed left everyone stooped.
To this day, the goal and the criminal are still a mystery.
But, what people don't know what that the crime wasn't meant to be a crime in the first place.
The Vanisher, after many years, has returned with a mission, one that could change the world forever.


7. School

So, first day of school.

It's been two years since I've even stepped foot inside a school.

Most of my classmates just think I died with the rest of my family on that camping trip.

Well, no one here even knows who I am, so that's good.

I mean, if Director Jones didn't want me to draw attention to myself, he shouldn't have had me start 2 weeks into the school year.

I mean, my 'dad' walked me in, and I had to be introduced in all of my classes.


Most of these classes are useless anyway.  I mean, seriously?  When am I ever gonna have to know how to write poetry?  Stupid literature class.

But, this whole not draw attention to yourself is pretty easy.

No one gives a damn about me anyway.

Now, band is a totally different story.

Everyone is so........friendly.

The flute players walk up to me and compliment my outfit, which, by the way, is converse, jeans, and an old sweatshirt, not something anyone would ever compliment on, and ask my name and everything about me.  The drum majors take me up front and introduce me to the rest of the band.  The band director introduces me exclusively to the trumpet section.

Why are band kids so freaking nice?

What the heck?

I know I'm not that nice.

Not at all.

"So," Mr. Jensen says, "You can just stand here in the block.  You know how to march, right?"

"What?" I say.  Then the drum majors yell attention and I freeze.

This is not gonna be good.

I can feel it.

I'm gonna die.

We start marching and I guess I'm doing okay.  Just walk in step, right?


We get to the football field and Mr. Jensen has me watch their halftime show, then places me in a spot.

"It's easy, just move for 28 at 6, pause, move again at 40...." He keeps rambling off numbers and counts and I just stand there and smile.  He smiles at me and counts us off.

Man, this is hard.

We get to a block shape and suddenly I feel a hand on my back.

"You missed the step off!" The section leader says to me, pushing me along to the new spot.  The same happens again and then we try to form what I think is a circle, then some lines, and then diagonal lines maybe?

I honestly have no clue.

"Haven't you ever marched before?" A boy asks, I think his name is Jake.  I shake my head.  "Well, uh, just move when you're supposed to."

Wow.  Thanks, Jake.  REALLY helpful.

We try marching and I basically just run whenever I see people moving.

I'm telling you, when a tuba and an army of trumpets are coming at you, it's scary.

We get back into our lines and Mr. Jensen calls it a day.

I walk back to the band room and pack up my trumpet.

Man, being the new kid is hard.

"Hey," a voice says from behind me.  I turn around, and a tall boy with blonde hair is in my face.  "At least you didn't get run over by Mason, the tuba player in our line.  Some poor freshman kid did on his first day.  He never came back to band camp after that."

"Yeah, I guess."

"My name's Tim, by the way, Tim Weaver." He extends his hand.  I grasp it.

"Ragan Hart."

"Nice to meet you, and just, FYI, don't mess with Kelly.  She's a damn good first trumpet, but her ego is almost as big as a bus.  I mean, I only play trumpet 2 because half the kids can't play."

"Nice to know." I say, turning away, not really caring.

"Just, don't worry about the show.  It's only your first day.  You'll get it eventually."

With that, he leaves me alone in the band room, which, for the first time all day, is silent.

Welcome back, Ragan.

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