A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first Gone fanfiction with a plot. Yes, it is OC-centric. If my OC shows any sign of becoming a Mary Sue, I trust you to warn me! Also, there will be romance between canon characters, and I have not yet decided who my OC will end up with, or if she'll end up with anyone at all, though she will not destroy any canon pairings. Enjoy, and please give me constructive criticism! :D

Also, I'd like to thank my awesome beta reader who doesn't have an account. I will refer to her as Sinder since she acts and looks a lot like her.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Gone series, though Seilandi is my OC. I hope all of you like her.


Buzz, went the intercom.

"Yes?" went Mrs. Vanshel.

"May you please send Seilandi Rillan to the office with her belongings?"

"Okay, Mr. Disper. She's on her way."

End conversation.

Seilandi shoved her notes into her binder, which she placed in a black tote bag after sliding her keychains away from the zipper. "What's the homework?" she asked.

"On page 426, do numbers eleven through seventeen odd, and remember to show your work this time."

Seilandi groaned inwardly yet nodded in agreement. She swung her bag over her shoulder and turned to face her classmates. "Bye Astrid, bye Dan, bye Philip."

"Bye," said Astrid. Dan and Philip didn't reply. Seilandi pretended not to notice. "Bye, Mrs. Vanshel," she said as she headed out the door.

"Bye, Seilandi," she said, then went back to explaining Maclaurin polynomials to her AP Calculus class.

Seilandi had no idea how long the byes would last.

She walked down the stairs, wondering why the principal called her to his office. Had she won another award for something? Was one of her relatives injured? Had her mom forgotten to tell her about an appointment? Or had she gotten in trouble? She doubted the last option because she hadn't gotten in trouble since first grade, yet worry nagged at her like a termite chewing through wood.

She knocked on the dark green door.

"Come in," said Mr. Disper, a balding man with greying hair in his late fifties. Seilandi entered. "Sit down." She sat down and looked into his mossy green eyes, trying to detect what emotion was growing in their shady depths.

"Have I done something wrong?" she asked nervously.

"Yes," he said. She gulped, wondering what it could possibly be. "Here." He passed her a stapled stack of papers; her story she wrote for literature class.

Seilandi picked it up and saw the big red A+ at the top of the page. "What's wrong with it?"

Mr. Disper sighed. "You're a smart girl, Seilandi. You should know what's wrong with it." Seilandi remained confused.

"All the violence. The graphic descriptions of torture. The fact that both the protagonist and antagonist are serial killers by the end of the story. What do you have to say about that?"

"Mr. Johnson told our class to be creative. He never told us what the rating was supposed to be." She struggled to remain calm.

"That's not the issue. What's wrong is that this much gore present in a story written by a fourteen year old girl could signify that you have violent tendencies and may pose a threat to other students."

"A lot of authors write dark stuff and haven't hurt anyone!" she blurted out a little too loudly.

"I'm aware of that."

Seilandi mentally slapped herself for the frantic tone that infected her voice. She was supposed to remain calm. Believable. Reasonable. Not flustered and panicking as if she truly did something wrong. What did she have to be afraid of if she were innocent?

She took a deep breath. "I promise that I wouldn't really hurt anyone."

"I want to believe you, Seilandi; I really do. You've seemed to be a trustworthy student for the months you've been here, yet I don't want to take any chances. You're not the first student I've had this conversation with."

Seilandi blinked in surprise. There were others? Then how come she was known as the sadistic one and not them? She wanted to ask who but decided against it.

Mr. Disper continued. "There was a boy a couple years back who expressed violent tendencies. He built guns out of pens, laughed when other students were injured, and would only draw scenes of destruction in art class. I called him down and made him promise not to hurt anyone. A few months later, he ended up shooting his neighbor."

She gasped. "What happened to him?"

"He was expelled, and he wasn't the only one; just the most serious case. Many times, I have given students second chances and the benefit of the doubt, and many times they have disappointed me. I am not saying that you will, but I am just giving you a warning."

Seilandi, filled with dread, hung on to every word and waited for her condemnation.

"For now, you will be sent home while I have a meeting with your parents. If this behavior persists, then you will have to choose to withdraw or be-"

Just then, Mr. Disper vanished. No 'poof.' No flash of light. No explosion. Most of all, no 'e-word.' Seliandi's anxiety and coldness vanished to be replaced with relief and curiosity. Where was Mr. Disper? How could he have just disappeared? Should she look for him? No. As much as she wanted to, she did not want to hear the rest of the conversation.

Now what was she supposed to do? Maybe she should just go to class and tell everyone that the principal disappeared. No one would believe something like that, but it would be funny to see their reactions. She raced up the stairs.

Wait. A thought struck her. What if she'd made him disappear? What if she'd somehow killed him with her worrying? No; that couldn't happen. Then again, he couldn't simply just disappear either. She could talk about it with Astrid; maybe principals had some new form of technology or something that she hadn't read about yet.

She bumped into Astrid. "Astrid, Mr. Disper just vanished!" she said. Astrid's blue eyes were wide, reflecting her own worry. "What's wrong? Do you know where he went or something?"

"No," said Astrid. "Mrs. Vanshel just disappeared, too. So did Philip and Dan."

"Out of thin air?"

Astrid nodded. "I was going to check with Mr. Trentlake's class to find out what's going on."

"What makes you think they'd know?"

"That isn't the point. I need to find out if anyone else disappeared."

"Is it okay if I come with you?"

"If you want."

Astrid walked into Mr. Trentlake's classroom, followed by Seilandi. Seilandi scanned the room with her coffee bean colored eyes, seeing no sign of Mr. Trentlake. She walked out and sighed with relief. If Mr. Trentlake were gone, too, she couldn't possibly be the cause of the disappearances. He had given her nothing to worry about; thus, her anxiety had nothing to do with it. She examined the hallway, peaking through the classroom windows to check to see who else was gone. What they all had in common: no adults and panicked children.

Speaking of children, she might as well get her sister and go home.