An Excerpt from AJ

The scene changed.
Again, I watched, but was aware. Was aware, but couldn't move.
"Can I sit?"
A grunt. A shaking head.
"Please?"
Feet dangled over an edge of a drop at the top of a grassy hill. A house in the distance. A meadow stretched out in front. Trees lining the edges. Another declining motion.
Two pairs of feet dangled over the edge. "Why not?"
"I just want you to leave me alone." Gaze cast to the side.
A pout. Imploring eyes that matched the sky. Only one head of hair that blew with the wind. "It's not fun being alone."
"I know."
"Then why do you like it?"
Silence.
A small smile. A head leaning on a shoulder. "I know you don't like it here but I think it might be good for you. My mom likes you and wants to help you have a home again. It has to be better than the orphanage."
"I don't know. They leave me alone there, mostly."
A frown. "What about me? Isn't it nice, having a friend?"
"No."
A silence. "Well, that's sad."
Another pause. A shrug.
Two pairs of eyes directed into nothingness.
"I'm sorry you don't like it here. But I do. I wish that life wasn't temporary. But," a small shrug. "I guess that's okay. It'd just be nice to do what I can, while I can. I'd like to see you happy."
The words Leukemia and HIV/AIDS flashed over her head but she didn't seem to notice.
"Why do you care?"
"Well, why not? You've gone through a hard time. I couldn't imagine what it'd be like if my parents…" A slight sniffle.
"Then you're just as much use as the rest of them."
A raised eyebrow. "Just as much use, huh? At least you didn't knock me down because of my condition." A small smile.
A sideways glance. A silence.
"I really am sorry though. I wish I could help you."
"You can't."
"I know."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because everyone needs a friend, whether they think they do or not. Just someone to listen." A shrug.
"I'm not going to spill my guts about how awful I feel about my traumatic past like some heroine in a tragedy, if that's what you want." Eyes shifted back to the distance.
"Are you crazy? Why would I want that?" A nose turned up.
A head turned. Curious eyes. "Really?"
A nod. A smirk. "Really. I want you to spill your guts and tell me all your secrets from before you had guts to spill." A fake evil laugh.
A glare. Just a hint of amusement. "Whatever." Eyes turned away again.
A smile. A head leaning against a shoulder. "I'll get you to crack eventually, you know."
I, or, rather, the me at that time, stiffened at her touch. I looked at her. Her eyes were closed until I did, then they sprung open. She looked at me intently, not with any particular purpose, just looking.
I remembered my thoughts: Eventually? Using what time?
I returned her stare, wondering how she could be so brave. Though her head was close to mine, the only hair that tickled my neck was my own.
Finally, I blinked, still not willing to break the silence that had settled around us, the kind only found in places undisturbed by urban development, but unable to stay still. When I did, she leaned up and kissed me on the cheek, softly. She pulled away slowly. I turned red.
"W-what was that for?" I demanded, pressing my fingertips to my cheek instinctively.
"For luck," she said matter-of-factly, smiling and sitting up.
I swallowed. "If anyone needs luck, it's you." It had to be said. Honestly, she made me feel shameful about my problems and my worries when she had much more imminent ones at the time. She didn't seem to care though. I didn't know how she did it.
She didn't seem to mind what I'd said. I guessed that was because she had already done the impossible, at least to me: she had come to peace with her lot in life, as sucky as it was.
She just shook her head, placidly. "I don't need luck," she whispered, calm and content as ever. "I don't need luck because I don't have a chance. My cards have been dealt and played and now…I'm going home. What's the use of luck when I can't make use of it? But you…you still have cards left in your hand. You haven't played some yet. You…still have a chance." She never dropped her smile as she spoke with much more wisdom than her age should have allowed. Her words never had a hint of sadness in them, or any indication that she was looking for pity.
I blinked. Wet cheeks again. Unworthy, I thought, taking a swipe at myself. I looked at her and broke down in front of her; for her; for both of us. I shattered into a million pieces, unable to be put back together again.
"Harley," I murmured, squeezing my eyes shut.
I opened my eyes.
A pair of brown ones stared back. Concern reflected in them.
Wet cheeks. Ruffling sheets. An aching chest.
I rolled over.
I closed my eyes.
Unworthy.
I tried to go back to sleep.