Young Writers Society

She shook her head, a little too aware of the casual turn in the conversation, "I am not that kind of a girl, Will."
She increased her pace, and he kept up with her effortlessly, "I don't know. What kind of a girl are you?"
She thought about it for a second and really wondered. What kind of a girl was she? She was the kind of girl who kept quiet despite everything she saw; who was always too late to take any stand because she was always too damn scared. She was the kind that was useless, worthless and alone all the time.
She pushed a smile on her face and looked back at him.
"I am the kind of girl who is going to race you back to the beach, and win."
She watched his eyes widen in surprise, and before he had even registered her challenge, she had already taken off with a laugh, running across the sand and feeling the wind blow back her hair.

He had settled his eye on what he could control in that moment, and he had asked her to come back with him. Even that had led to very strange consequences. He remembered asking him what kind of a woman she was. There had been a playful hint in his voice, but his eyes had been curious as they had searched her face waiting for her answer. And then she had abruptly taken off across the beach, declaring she was the kind of woman that was going to beat him to the camp. He had let her win, simply because he had been too surprised to actually take her up on her challenge. And when they had finally stopped to catch their breath, there had been this huge grin on her face and this shine in her eyes, that made him feel that he did not know her at all.
So yes, he was having a very strange day.

Back at camp, people were going about their day as if they had lived there, their entire lives. He could see Jason trying to break open a coconut by hitting it repeatedly against the sharp end of a rock. And there was Daniel trying to catch fish in the ocean with an ease that should not have come as effortlessly, and Janine sunbathing on the sand as if they were just on a vacation on the beach. Looking around himself, he realized how quickly these people had accepted their circumstances, how easily they had embraced their new reality and built a life for themselves with whatever scrapes they had been offered. Yes, everybody wanted to leave. But in that moment he got the feeling that nobody would mind staying.

Maybe that was why they had been chosen to become puppets in this intricate game of make-believe. Someone knew that they did not have much to live for, and they had brought them here to give them what - A new life? New excitement? New purpose?

Suddenly, Will felt this deep sense of disgust and shame rise within himself. He did not know any of these people and their stories, but he did know that his life hadn't been so pathetic or miserable that he would be ready to settle down on the beach to make a difference. Yes, he had had his own share of ups and downs, but that did not make him want to leave it all behind. He was a doctor, he had a life for himself in the city, he had a caring family and friends who he got along with. Maybe these people were okay with their lives getting uprooted without any explanation, but he was not ready to settle for a beach and a tarp above his head. He had to leave before he got comfortable, before he became like them.

"Here," Carl said, handing something to his son, "I got some water for you."
The boy took the bottle from him, and Will took it as his cue to leave.
He turned to Carl, "I have cleaned the wound, and bandaged his hand. If it starts to itch, it means that the cut is healing. There shouldn't be any more problems, but if there is, you know where to find me."
The man nodded at him in thanks, and Will smiled at the boy before taking off across the beach.
When he was quite a distance away, he looked back and realized what a discordant picture they made. The boy was staring at the ocean, while his father was talking away, trying to cheer him up, probably in all the wrong ways. He wondered what their story was and he wondered if that was how he and his father had looked in his childhood when he would talk his ears away after school and he would simply stare at his newspaper with an impatient look on his face. He wondered how long before the boy's father gave up and he wondered if it would take as long as he had.

James stole Janine's migraine medication and now he won't give it back." He watched her register his words and turn them around in her head.
"Well, do you know for certain that he has it?"
He shrugged, "Jason saw him hoard medicine....and alcohol."
She shook her head in exasperation, "Alright, let me talk to him."
He had known that she would make an announcement like that, and that was exactly why he had hesitated to tell her anyways. "There's no need. I am trying to figure it out."
She got up from the log and placed her bag by her feet, "Well, you aren't doing it right."
He felt a flicker of irritation at her words, "What are you going to do? Sweet talk him?" He had said it sarcastically and considering how sharply she turned towards him, she had realized it as well.
"Yes, that's exactly what I am going to do actually. And what were you planning to do? Get Daniel to take a few hits at him?"
Well, now that she had mentioned it, he obviously wasn't going to do that anymore. But he didn't say anything because in that moment he was caught by the fire in her eyes. He could literally see the flecks of golden in her chocolate brown eyes come out to play at the challenge in his words. She was beautiful when she was furious and he wondered absently if that was why James was always sparring with her - to get her to be real and open and herself.
"Well?" she asked.
"Nothing," he mumbled absently and cleared his throat, "If there's anyone he will listen to, its you."
She seemed satisfied with that answer, because she nodded tersely at him and left in the direction of the camp.

"Are you done?" he asked suddenly and she looked up at him in question, "Did you get it all out of your chest?"
It took her a moment to realize his words, but when she did, she felt this flash of guilt shoot through her. She had been exhausted, and frustrated and bitter and she had taken it out on him because he was there and because she knew he could take it. That still did not make it alright though. She felt all the energy vacate her body leaving just an empty shell behind, and she was afraid that she might just collapse on the sand right there or float away with the wind if it blew too hard.
"I shouldn't have hit you. It doesn't mean that you aren't an overbearing irritating asshole, because you are. But still, I shouldn't have hit you."
He smiled at her, his cheeks hollowing with his dimples and she knew that he did not care, "Just an apology would have been fine sweetheart."
She rolled her eyes at him and took a deep breath. "Okay, here's what we are going to do. You are going to show me your stash and we are going to take all the medicine to Will." He scoffed at her and before he could interrupt, she went on, "He is going to take what he needs for Janine and then you can bury the rest in your stash to play your little games."
He tilted his head to the side with a short smile, "And why am I going to do that again?"
"Because a girl is in pain James. And I know you are not going to sit here by your tent when there is a chance that you can take it away."
He frowned, "I think you have me pegged for someone else, Giggles."
She looked at him for a second before walking into his tent without any prior announcement, "Just give me the medication, James."

"You can take your medicine now."
He nodded and began rifling through the makeshift bag, "There's a lot of stuff in here."
As if he didn't know. She rolled her eyes, and sat down on the log Will had vacated. She felt the warmth from the fire seep into her bones, and for the first time that night, she felt comfortable.
"I am no doctor, obviously," he continued, "But I am pretty familiar with this one," he said, handing her a round box of pills.
She eyed the container and recognized the name written in the front, "They are-"
"Sleeping pills," he finished for her, "I figured you might have need of these."
He dropped it in her lap and turned around with a short nod, while she sat there trying to understand what had just happened. The small box of pills felt heavy in her lap, and before she had realized, she had already stood up and called out his name.
"Why?" She felt it was important to ask him that, even if she did not understand why.
He was a short distance from her, but she knew he could hear her clearly. He stopped for a second but did not turn around.
"Because you kept my secret, so I thought I could keep yours."
"What secret?" she asked trying to understand, "I have told you all everything I know." That was not exactly true, but he had no way of knowing it.
"I saw the look on your face tonight, Sara. I watched you when you mindlessly started walking towards the ocean without any clue of what you were doing. It wasn't the face of someone who was distracted, it was the face of someone very lost and broken, who does not know where she is going and is desperately trying to hide that fact from the world. So you can pretend and act all you want, but I see you, and I know that life hasn't been perfect for you either."
She did not deny his words, but she did not accept them either. She felt it would be untruthful and dishonest if she did either and so she stared at his back instead, grateful that his eyes weren't watching her in that moment of open vulnerability.
"It doesn't explain the pills," she mumbled, her voice soft as a whisper but he heard her anyways.
He turned around, and she watched the ghost of a smile lift his mouth around the corners,
"I gave you the pills because, between your obvious insomnia and guilt and secrets, I thought you could use some rest if you plan on trekking through the jungle and acting like superwoman all day. Can't have you collapsing on us now, Giggles."

They stood next to each other, feeling the sea wash at their feet. It was a glorious day. The sun was bright and warm, and the sky was a clear blue with clusters of clouds floating about like cotton candy. She could hear the birds from there, she could feel the ocean and listen to the laughter of children. And she wished they didn't have to leave.
"If you change your mind," he said after a while, "I just want you to know that I don't mind running. Not with you."
She smiled, "You are fifteen, Julian. You are not supposed to be running from anything right now."
He shrugged, "I don't really see it as running away. I see it more as running towards...a better life."