Surviving the Impossible

Names

I did my best to stitch up Alissa's leg and I wrapped her leg with my torn pant leg.

We then moved on to the other boy. "Hello," I said, kneeling down to inspect his leg. The poor boy was crying harder than I had ever seen. That was a good sign. That meant that he could feel it. "What's your name?"

He didn't answer. I nodded to the other boy, the one following me around. "Check him."

"For what? A gun?!"

"A name?" I said, not believing he could be that stupid.

I rolled up the rest of his torn pant leg and cleaned the cut. He cried harder. The boy held his hand and whispered, "Shhh, it'll be okay. It'll all be okay. Do you have a name?" The boy still didn't answer and he checked his pockets. "Hey," he said, shoving me slightly. He had pulled a card out of the boy's pocket. "Look. It looks like some sort of ID." He flipped it over in his hands. "Benjamin Fidel," he read.

"Okay, Benjamin, I'm just gonna wrap your cut up, okay?" He nodded and I ripped my other pant leg. It actually worked out; we were on a tropical island and now my pants were shorts. Imagine that.

"Okay everyone," I said, standing up. "Let's make a circle." Surprisingly, the children followed. I thought I would have to chase them around to get them to sit down. They must've still been in shock.

"Alright. Let's go around the circle and tell everyone our name, age, and... favourite colour. Who wants to go first?"

No one moved so I pointed to the boy across from me. "You first."

He sighed and looked around. "Do I have to stand up?"

"Not unless you want to."

"Good 'cuz I don't wanna. Okay, my name is Michael. Do I have to say my last name?" I shook my head. "I'm ten and my favourite colour is neon orange."

We moved around the circle and I wrote the names and ages into the sand with a stick. Michael, ten; Alissa, four; Anna, eight; Cameron, fifteen(I was right); Sam, fourteen(me); Johnny, six; Benjamin, three; Daniel, thirteen.

"And what's your name?" I asked the last girl. She stuck her chin up and looked away. I sighed. "Alright," I said, "if you don't wanna tell me, that's your choice. But I will have to call you by something. How 'bout Rita?"

She looked at me. "That's an old person name." I smiled to myself. My plan was working. "Mine is much better. Madison. And I'm twelve."

I wrote it down in the sand and looked up at the faces around me. I really hoped we would get rescued soon. More importantly, I hoped Benjamin was potty trained.