Waiting for War

Kally

The room is quiet. Kassie lays on her bed across from me. We both lay in silence. She hasn't told her mom about me. This gives me hope that maybe she listened. That maybe we have a chance of finally figuring out what happened 20 years ago. I just have to talk to her about it again. Again before level seven in two weeks.

"Hey Kassie, will you come to the library with me," I begin. Kassie looks over at me.

"I can't I have to study," and then without warning she gets up, picks up her back pack and heads out of the door. Is she actually going to study? Or is she telling her mom about me. I try not to worry. I try not to think about it, but I do. Finally it's so bad that I get up and head to Luke's room. The hallway feels longer when I'm anxious. I've never really felt this way until I figured out about the government. Usually I brush everything off but I can't with this. My life is in danger.

I make my way down and finally step in front of the door. I knock, waiting for a response. It resounds off of the metal door with a great clang.

Slowly the door opens, revealing Luke. I blink. Luke has just gotten out of the shower, his long hair falling around his shoulders, straight and wet. He's wearing a baggy t and I can see his lean muscle through it. I take a step back, my face burning.

"What's up?" He asks, his eyes blaring into mine.

"Um... well, I, can I come in," I've been collecting paper and pencils from the library and I fully intend on using them.

I hold out my fist, the sheet of paper tucked away in my knuckles. He holds out his hand, and when I hand him the paper his ice cold hand grazes mine. It sends a thrill down my spine. I take a deep breath and pull my hand back.

"Come on in, Ken's sleeping," and I step inside.

The room feels dark, Ken laying in his bed under the covers, motionless.

"Are you sure he's sleeping, or is he trying to die?" I cross my arms menacingly.

Luke looks over at his bed.

"Good point," and so we step up to the bed and pull back the blanket. Ken's body looks small, dying, fragile.
More than I've ever seen him before. He looks bad, and the worst part is, he's taking it in silence. He's resigned to his death, and it breaks my heart.

I may not love him now, but I still care. He's my friend.