- Vaughn Blackmore:
The instructors don't waste time.
Voices cut through the noise one after another, sharp and loud enough to rise above the chatter, calling out names in clipped tones that don't invite hesitation. People start lining up faster, the loose crowd tightening into something more organized as everyone moves toward their assigned buses.
"Blackmore."
My name lands somewhere in the middle of it.
I exhale quietly through my nose and step forward without thinking too much about it, adjusting the strap of my backpack again as I move with the flow. Darien is right beside me, close enough that our shoulders brush now and then as we climb the metal steps into the bus.
The inside is already filling up.
Rows of narrow seats, the faint smell of worn fabric and metal, sunlight cutting through the windows in uneven strips. Voices overlap in a low hum as people settle in, bags being shoved overhead or dropped under seats, boots hitting the floor in uneven rhythms.
