Chapter Six: In the Office

A brief author's interlude:

The adventures of Laiva and co. are getting frightening. Team Green is starting to lose control Captive are starting to lose eardrums. Things are looking bad for our protagonists.

And the force with the possibility to change it all is stirring slowly and sleepily. Strains of music drift about her, a softly plucked guitar accompanied by the hum of voices and bongo drums. A high tenor starts to sing, lulling those listening to deep sleep.

In the office, the director's office,

The 'major sleeps away

In the office, the quiet office

The 'major sleeps awaaaaay

*

Vanessa, Head Drum Major of the Marching Eagles, rolled over onto her back and stared upwards blankly. Where was she again? The ceiling she was staring at was unlike any ceiling in her house. And her back and legs hurt from sleeping so long on such hard tile…tile? Wait a minute. Vanessa's house did NOT have tile in it. Where was she?!

Like a color guard pole on a trumpet player, it hit her. She was in the Band Office! One glance at the clock (the hands were clarinets, flutes, and oboes on every clock in the band room) told her that she had been asleep for nearly ten hours. Must have been tired, she thought to herself as she managed to sit up. She had fallen asleep after the rest of the band had chased off to have some sort of silly war, hadn't she? They'd probably be long gone by now—maybe she should just head home.

The clattering of keys on a keyboard in the otherwise empty room brought her to sharper reality. "Hello?" The office was indeed empty, save for her, music files, a cluttered desk (with a missing stash of chocolate oranges), a chocolate orange slice, and a computer. There was no other living thing in here, and the office was soundproof, so why was she hearing keys clicking?

Vanessa stood up, stretching as she walked to the computer. Her eyes widened. The keys were clicking and moving, being pushed in, but there was nobody there! A message typed rapidly across a Word processor document.

It came to pass just before the days of the final band war that bad trumpets should overpower, but lack the intelligence to rule. In that mindset, the clarinets rose up, but were too feeble of an instrument to fight back. Even backed by the flutes, they were no match for the rather ignorant rulers.

Finally, a new group came into play, powerful yet suave. They were well-liked by everybody, including the percussionists (who, after the Great Defeat in the Year of the Sophomore, slunk back into the corners and watched, waiting for a chance to attack), but not the trumpets. In fact, most of the trumpets hated the new group with a passion, but the few trumpets that were good and intelligence allied themselves to this new group.

And so the Saxophone/French Horn troops arose—

"Freaky." Vanessa rolled her eyes at the message. Dumb prophesizing freaks.

A high-pitched whine broke her train of thought just then, followed quickly by a wave of static. Before Vanessa could react so much as a yell, a loud guitar burst in. She winced away, nearly deafened. "HELLO? OW!"

The guitar immediately stopped. Is that too loud? A voice boomed out around her, exuding from everything—the computer, the walls, the floor, the ceiling tiles, the little piece of chocolate orange on the floor, even from Vanessa herself.

"Yeah!" Vanessa snapped indignantly, looking about for the source. "WAY too loud! What song was it, anyway?"

Er, it's a song I love. This whole chapter's supposed to be written to a soundtrack. That song is "Bang" by Eve 6.

Vanessa was still turning around, looking for the source of the voice. "Chapter?" she asked curiously. The voice apparently was not in the band room—only in the office.

"I heard a bang, the stars collided, your breath drew me in just like a magnet…" a voice sang distantly.

Yeah. This is a Chapter, Chapter Six. You're a character. I need to talk to you.

Vanessa snorted. "Uh-huh, sure. I'm a character in some little prissy teenager's novel, am I? Why don't you pick somebody interesting, for a change? You always pick on me! You don't need to remind that I have no life, whoever you are! If this is some sort of joke—"

It's not a joke. I'm serious. I can make you do anything.

"I don't believe you."

And suddenly, the band office disappeared. In fact, everything disappeared—except for Vanessa, who stood, amazingly enough, on a plane of white. Well, she made the pretense of standing—she could have stood upside down and it would not have been any different. Everything was incredibly bleak and white. "Okay," she finally agreed feebly. "I believe you."

Thank you. The band office reappeared, as well as a dinner for Vanessa. You need to move quickly. Team Puce will be making a major attack on Team Green in approximately seven minutes and fifteen seconds. I've unlocked the color guard cabinet using my guide to author's rights. You know what to do.

Vanessa nodded to show that she had heard. With a blink of an eye, the music stopped completely. "Thank heavens, the song was horrible."

I heard that.

Vanessa's only response was to roll her eyes. Quickly, she downed a couple of bites of the dinner provided and sneaked to the band office door. Team Puce could be seen through the Plexiglas, making last minute preparations for their next attack. Vanessa smiled at the challenge—this would be her time to shine. Before she could move, however, the door opened.

Brorby, the spy for Team Green, entered, apparently deep in thought. In one hand, he clutched a manila envelope and a sheath of music. "Blasted idiot," he swore under his breath. Not noticing Vanessa, he crossed immediately the computer, innocently blank of any message. The author must have wiped that out. HotChat was pulled up and a message was sent off before Vanessa so much as cleared her throat. Brorby turned, confused. "Yes? Oh, you're the one the author planned to foil Team Puce's greatest plot. Better get on it. And support Brorbism."

Vanessa snorted—the chances of that happening where about equal to the chances of the band forming a straight company front. Still, she swung off of the desk she had been sitting on and checked out the door. The Band Room was empty, thankfully. Like any good movie spy, she sneaked across the room and gave the door one good tug. Just as the author had said, the door swung open easily.

A plethora of color guard riches stared back at her. She strapped sabers on, shouldered rifles, grabbed armloads of flags. (A/N: So what if our band doesn't have sabers? Doesn't stop me!!) Sneaking out of the band room proved quite easy.

Finally, Team Green had something going in their favor.

And Vanessa was awake.



A/N: This chapter was written just for Vanessa! Rock on, Drummie! Like it? Don't take it.