Marching in the Dark

Prologue

“Hey, Melody?”

I turned around so that I could talk to Harmony. I had to twist around in my seat, almost all the way around, because we were in a van and Harmony was sitting in the row behind me.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Can I borrow that book?”

“Sure,” I turned back around to get it for her. I was always the one that my friends came calling to when they wanted something to read, because I always brought extras with us where ever I went. The book Harmony was talking about was one I’d finished near the beginning of our trip.

I had to root around in the floor by my feet for a moment before I found it, pushing aside my flute and piccolo and digging through my messenger back for the book that was shoved in the bottom. We—meaning me and my friends—were on our way back from Albertville, Alabama, where we’d been taking part in this year’s District Honor Band.

I grabbed the book and twisted back around in my seat to hand it to Harmony. “Here,” I said, holding it out to her.

The next moments changed my life forever, and I know that I will never forget them. The entire world seemed to slow down. I heard the impact, felt the jarring jerk that comes when someone slams on the breaks, but this was much more violent, much stronger, because there was no squeal of breaks. I was tumbling backward, and I felt the back of my head slam into the seat in front of me. My vision went black, and I only had time to let out a short cry before my consciousness followed my vision.