The Girl in The Green Scarf

T h i r t y

"Yes?" Even the single word is hard to push out with trembling lips and a breathless chest.

"Thank you for finding Hani," she goes on in a whisper. "I don't know what I would do if I looth him. Tho thankth."

She reaches on her toes to hug my neck and kiss my stained cheek. Feeling overwhelmed, I suck in a quick breath, going still except for my rapidly blinking eyes.

She pulls back and flashes me a million Watt smile. "You are my hero, Bash."

I rub the back of my head, and with all the will in the world I can't return her smile. I am no hero and I know it.

"Um, uh, yea," I say lamely.

But my lack of retort doesn't seem to bother her at all. With an unwavering smile she gives me another quick hug.

She pulls back, her eyes going wide.

"Oh no! You are hurt!" Zeina exclaims, taking my hand in hers. Her tiny mouth set in a pout.

There on my forearm is a gashing wound, covering it in fresh blood mixed with dirt and drying bits of scraped skin. On the snow below me, a couple of crimson red drops stare back with a painful contrast.

"Oh, it's nothing," I say with a shrug, letting my hand fall. At least it was nothing until I acknowledged it. "It doesn't hurt."

"How can it not hurt, it lookth nathty!" She wrinkles her nose, then as if struck by the realization she blurts, "I have to treat it."

Determination lights her eyes and her eyebrows meet in concentration. She inspects my torn shirt for a moment and then shreds a tatter from the hem. I say nothing as she wraps it around my forearm with all the care in the world.

"Thith will thtop the yukky blood from going everywhere so you don't die. Wait for me here, I'll be back ath quickly ath a rabbit," she orders, jabbing her finger at me.

I hold back a chuckle at how cute the creases between her eyebrows look and bob my head, trying to take her seriously. "Yes, your highness."

She swirls around, running into the throng of pupils, her dress and curtain of chocolate strands flying behind her.

Once I'm certain she won't steal a glance at me, I fall back on the icy ground - welcoming the cold - and let the laughs out. They are shaky and desperate and fade as quickly as they come. With a sigh, I get to my feet, head heavy with thought again.

I start dusting my trousers, but figure out they're a lost cause half way through and give up. I can only imagine how I look right now. Hair tousled in every which way, eyes irritated and bloodshed and mouth set in an unwanted upside down curve that I can't fight.

My eyes search the crowd for Hamsa. I've come to notice that no matter what it is, the sight of her makes things easier to deal with.

I make her out by the school entrance, now seated on a wooden chair someone got her from class. Hani sits on a chair beside her, shivering even though a blanket is wrapped around his shoulders. Hamsa brushes hair out of his face and plants a kiss on his forehead, her grin lighting her eyes. I find myself smiling as I approach them.

"There he is, the hero of the day," Lamees sings theatrically, coming from behind me. "How does it feel to say you saved someone's life huh?"

She places an imaginary microphone before my mouth, which just hangs open, my breath making clouds. This prompts a playful eye roll from Hamsa, which strangely makes me feel less uncomfortable.

"Oh Lamees, you're making the guy blush," Hamsa says teasingly.

"Mr cool blushes? How adorable," Lamees says with a chuckle, pinching the air in front of her as she would do my cheeks.