Life According to Wyatt Smithers

The Gathering

"Attention, everyone. Attention," Ms. Sanders said. A woman in her late thirtys, her bright white shirt held the sigil of trojan in its upper right corner. Her brown, curly hair so dark it was often mistaken for black.

"I know times are tough right now and some of your fellow classmates have disappeared. But don't worry. It will be alright."

The crowd roared so loud in worry.

"How is this alright?!" a small student quiried.

"Yeah. What about the missing students?" another continued.

Everyone in the autitorium challenged Ms. Sander's statement. The large amphitheater held over 1,000 seats. The walls to the left and right were brick but above them were wooden frames alligned diagonally towards the stage. Lights at their base illuminated the wood giving it a unique sunset color.

The back of the stage was a dirty white wall with an enormous mural of a blue trojan in a circle from his head to his stomach. The words Catalina Trojans were inscribed across his abdomen.

"Calm down, everyone," she continued. "The police department has been doing everything they can to find the missing students."

Ms. Sanders' reply didn't suppress anyone's worry. It was so strange how all this happened. The days were harder to get through because of these circumstances. What was still on my conscience was how the students had disapeared.

After an hour of bluster and being lost in my own thoughts the bell had rung and at least half of the audience rose instantly. I chose to remain seated. An attempt to exit along with the rest of the masses of students was sheer suicide. It was amazing how little that thought crossed everyone else's minds.

As I rose I gazed up at the wooden frames above me. My eyes fell upon the remnants of the herd of students who had already departed. Just keep going. Just keep going. The day is almost over. Ascending the ramp I turned to my right just as I escaped the amphitheater.

Another familiar motion of looking up found the sight of a distracted Leigh-Anne. Her attention was placed on Alex Heimlit, the new German exchange student. As I walked past her I spoke.

"Hi, Leigh."

No response. The two seemed to be talking. I heard the words trumpet and virginity but I found no correlation between the two. Minutes passed and the ramp to the upper east hallway lied dead ahead.