Stability (by D&N)

Ch. 13-Jada

Once the ironic group embrace broke apart, no one knew what else to do. The chuckles and tears had ceased. We were all faced with the dark reality once again, and the constant battles of how we would deal with what was thrown at us next.

When the three survivors had returned back with backpacks bursting with supplies, my first instinct was to account for all they salvaged and to ration it out strategically. It was the logical and efficient thing to do, and my brain craved something productive to keep it busy, possibly to distract it from going into my dark place. That's what I called it: my dark place. Oh God, I hated that place with my whole being. It would begin with a sad thought and would grow and grow until it completely and wholly absorbed every strand of hope inside of me. I would imagine an ebony tar slowly creeping through my bones and slipping around all of my organs, slowing down my heart rate and diminishing any willpower to do anything at all. I hated my dark place. It didn't belong inside of me, and I didn't want to be stuck there. It was my definition of hell.

So, my hands began to work. My eyes searched for Michael F, no longer holding Angelina tenderly. He was examining Danika, once again. Tapping lightly on her ankle, her winces weren't as strong anymore. I saw the most beautiful smile glide across his lips: progress. He patted Danika's calf with pride, causing his patient to actually grin as well. She was healing, and nothing could scare away my dark place more than seeing Danika smile. I stepped over to the two of my best friends and glanced down at Michael. He tilted his head up to me, a proud smile pronouncing his greeting.

"Good news?" I asked. I couldn't help my own lips from curving up when Michael nodded.

"Her ankle has improved so much. Well, for being that she had no anesthetic or antibiotics, it seems it is healing nicely. She just needs to stay off of it for about maybe three-four at the most-more days. Otherwise, the pain seems to be subsiding and she should be good in no time." I knelt down and hugged my Salvadorian friend. He was so incredible.

"Thanks so much dude. It means the world to me that you've been looking after her for these past few days. I know it's been so chaotic lately and you've been so stable, so strong. You've been such a great friend, even before all this crap happened. Thanks for everything." I felt like I was rambling, and I stood up, trying to avoid any awkward dorkiness I may have let on. Before everything happened, Michael, Danika, Carlos, and I would be the first few of my peers to arrive to school. Michael's older sister had zero period at the nearby high school, so he arrived at school pretty early. Danika, Carlos, and I just got to school early by chance. So, many of our mornings were spent making jokes, reading, or sharing stories with each other. That was how Danika, Michael, Carlos, and I became so close; without those mornings, my days probably wouldn't have been so cheerful. I started it with them, and I wouldn't have asked for any other way to begin it.

Michael just nodded in reply. I gave Danika my best smile, showing how proud I was of her and how grateful I was to still have her in my world. "I'm just gonna steal this. Gonna measure out the supplies and see what else we might need." I picked up the backpack that was off to Michael's left, and stumbled. It was marvelously bulky. I was shocked at how burdensome it was and my arms strained as I tried once again to lift the massive pack. I couldn't imagine what a challenge for Angelina it was to bear such a hefty object on her back while running and fighting off crazed, inhumane creatures. Thanks to the past three years of lugging increasingly heavy textbooks and unnecessary tools in my own backpack, I was able to swing the unwieldy pack onto my back and carry it over to a free spot on the roof. I threw it down, breathed a sigh of relief, and stretched my back. The clanking sound implied metal. I took each zipper one by one and slid them across the backpack.

I peered inside and was met with steel cans, each with some words scribbled in marker on the front. I grasped each can like it were gold and I gently laid them out around me. There had to be about fifteen to twenty cans, just in this one backpack. I separated each type of can with different labels into rows: corn, beans, peaches, pineapple, pear. At the bottom of the backpack, I found stacks of napkins, haphazardly tossed in the bottom and crumpled messily. I smoothed each one out and restacked them, one on top of the other. I also found a few packets of ketchup, a handful of utensil packets, and an old test, most likely belonging to the person who had owned the backpack. I knew I shouldn't have looked at the name on the paper, but my fingers already picked it up and unfolded each crease, smoothing it out like an iron perfecting a shirt. The writing was faded, probably from sitting at the bottom of the backpack for weeks, but my eyes could make out the faint scribbles of a name. Andrea Rivera, Math, Period 1.