“Just let me eat my lunch in peace,” Jake murmured to the girl sitting on his left. Amélie smiled mildly and took a long drag from her cigarette, then threw her head back and blew the smoke up into the air—her signature move. “I’m a dragon,” she always used to say, and then she would laugh at her own joke. She didn’t speak this time—Jake didn’t think she could.

*WARNING* Some mature thematic content. There is mention of drugs and other forms of abuse, which is obviously not put in a positive light. It's a pretty dark storyline, but the story itself is not particularly dark, if that makes sense.

I. Linguist
i gravitate towards words that
provide a certain image
just a flash of color
like clarity is aquamarine
and nomadic is grainy like sand
i think of these words this way
because it helps me to understand them
why is generous deep red
and why is decoding slate grey
i like the click of the tongue that comes
when you say the word colloquial
the hard c, the clear l, the qu unquestionable
maybe this is why i’m a linguist
i like how people talk.

I. Happy
A couple got engaged
on top of the rock where I
celebrated my birthday.
They picked up the rose petals
that he had laid down for her,
and when I walked by I saw them
looking at each other as if
no one else had ever existed,
and I have never seen
a person look at another person
quite like that.
It made me want to
build something beautiful
like they did.

Someone I used to know
Died tonight
I just remember his
Shining face and simple dreams
Just yesterday we were eight or nine 
Or something 
Running like kids do
He called my dog stupid 
And I protested loudly
Truth or dare, my backyard
"do you like me?" 
"NO" obstinately but I lied
Just two months shy of 18 now, I think
Now he's gone and I didn't even 
Get to know him now as he is
Was 
He didn't even get to say goodbye
To the family who loved him
And he thought he was immortal

Picture a small child standing at your side, anywhere from eight to fifteen years old. Their arms are shrunken, and their belly is bloated. Their face is toneless and unimpassioned. Yet, these are not the most exceptional things about this child. Rather, grasped in their malnourished, clenched fists is a gun.

Sometime in May:

I watched him hobble across the room like an old man.

“Did you run today?” asked mum, her voice filled with concern.

“Ran 10kms around the base.” He answered.

“Do you really think you should be running with your back like this?” My eyes darted back and forth between the two.”

“It doesn’t hurt while I’m running, it’s fine.” His tone of voice ended the conversation.

“But otherwise you’re walking like an old man,” muttered mum, in a voice only audible enough for me to hear as she left the kitchen.

I.
How you tilted your head skyward
and the sun filtered
over your freckles
I've never had such a
beautiful day.

II.
How I have loved you
with every step you have taken
even when the breathing
got to be too much for you
How I have forgiven you
when you have brought me down
with your tight jaw and sometimes
self involved disposition
How I have missed all the good days
but they are gone and we won't
get them back
that's okay.

Chapter Ten

“GIVE HIM SOME SPACE!” Iris said, pushing her way in. She looked at the man carefully. A long thin cut, spilling blood was on Julius’s head and his arm was slightly burned. His face looked so peaceful, as if he was finally at rest.

“You’re not going to give up on me that easily,” Iris whispered. “Pika, go get my satchel!” The boy rushed to her tent, with its singed edges and smell of smoke. He retrieved the satchel and returned it to Iris.

“Here,” he said.

Chapter Nine

AS CAD AND IRIS RETURNED TO THE CAMP, Alaric was, of course, running around in a circle like a rooster with a missing head. As soon as he saw the two come out of the trees, Alaric ran up to them, hugged Iris close to him and glared at Cad.

“What were you two doing in there? Answer me!” He demanded.

Cad began, “I—”

“Cad was only teaching me how to shoot properly, and in turn I taught him which herbs were the best for headaches and cuts.”
Alaric scoffed and shook his head. “And why would a healer need to know how to shoot an arrow?”