Page 23 of Love and War

I couldn't even move as she opened the door, her voice low enough that I couldn’t hear her. Even the woman whose voice was much louder. Everything felt cloudy; I couldn’t focus on anything.

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Aziza - 8

Killian - 12

“Calm down, man.” Z laughed, nudging me in the shoulder. It made me want to punch him in the face. I couldn’t calm down. It’d been over a month since we put her into the back of that woman's car. After that, every Saturday we came to the park and waited. But she never showed. Z didn’t know that I came every day though. I waited on the swing, looking at every car that drove past hoping it was her.

It never was.

“What if something happened to her?” I finally voiced my concern. Out of us, I was the calm one. I looked at the bigger picture. Whereas Z was hot headed. Too quick to throw punches at anyone that made him mad.

“I’m sure nothing happened to her.”

Liar. He was worried, just better at hiding it.

“I don’t know…” Another car drove past, my eyes glued to it. Not breaking once and not slowing down.

“Kills, you’ve got to calm down. You keep picking fights with everyone around he—”

“I’ll kick anyone's ass who hurts him.” I knew that voice before I even turned around. Z smiled wide as he tousled the top of her hair.

“Got a mouth on you, short stuff.”

“Not short, you big buffoon. Wait, I like that, buffoon.” Her laugh was wonderful to hear after waiting to see if she was even alive all this time. “You gonna stand there with your back to me, Popsicle?”

I still hadn’t turned around, but the moment she said my nickname that I hated, I did. Aziza's blonde hair was a complete mess thanks to Z. She wore a plaid dress, tights, and some type of slippers.

Neither of us said anything as we headed towards the swings. Her favorite activity.

“Where’ve you been, short stuff?” Z asked.

“Uh… I was in the hospital for a little bit.” She wouldn’t look at either of us. I didn’t like that.

“You gonna tell us why?” Z asked as they began getting higher. I stayed sitting watching them both do their little game on who could get the highest. She always won, but he also let her.

For a while none of them said anything. I continued watching them until Aziza completely stopped and was breathing hard.

She stumbled off the swing. I stood, worried something was wrong. She rushed to sit next to her backpack.

“What happened?” Z mumbled next to me.

Shrugging, I walked closer until she turned towards us, an apple juice in one hand, and a bag of trail mix in the other. Slowly I watched as she took another bag, not daring to look up at us as we approached.

“What’s that?” Z asked, sitting down across from her. For some reason I found myself wanting to just sit next to her. Ignoring the tightening in my chest, I watched as she cleaned her ring finger with an alcohol wipe. Slowly prinking it she took her bloody finger to another thing.

“When I passed out, Holly took me to the hospital back home.” I couldn’t take my eyes off her hands, as she read the test before shoving everything back into her bag. “Long story short, I have type one diabetes.” She tried opening her juice. After watching her struggle she glanced up at me.

She looked up at me and not him.

Smiling, I stuck my hand out. Carefully handing it to me, I opened the juice before giving it back. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You don’t need to thank me,” I found myself whispering back.

“So type one huh?” Z shrugged. “How can we help?”

“There’s nothing y’all can do.” I hadn’t even noticed the little southern accent she had. “Just, ya know, I have to check my blood every so often. If it’s low I need to make sure I’m drinking juice and having snacks.” She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

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