The War Game by Crystal Black

anything in this camp except for the crap they served us once a day in the cafeteria.
                  “I guess my body chemistry reacts differently to certain things,” I said, sort of quickly rehashing what I read about medicine and adverse reactions in my human anatomy book.
                  “Yeah, but all of a sudden?”
                  I shrugged my shoulders. Why did he need to question everything? “Or maybe I’m coming down with something.” I think he was pushing me to open up and just say that I couldn’t stand the possibility of another girl coming between us or some crap like that. But people are always coming down with something. Colds, coughs, the flu, death. It was best when the lie was close to the truth.
                  The next day began as usual, except I actually woke up before John did. We went through our usual routine but not with much conversation.
                  After lunch, he asked me if I cared if he went away to hang out with Laura. I reminded him that I was sick and that moving around made my stomach feel worse. He started to go on a tangent about how she didn’t seem to have any friends here and blah, blah, blah.
                  I simply said, “I’m not your mother. You don’t need my permission to do anything.”
                  Then he said that he never had a mother. It was just him and his dad. And that he knows that he doesn’t need my permission. He left.
                  Well, whatever.
                  I spent most of the day napping in the sun, on the hard cement. Getting shuffled to camp to camp, I have now acquired the ability to sleep on almost any surface and in any awkward position. I was in that state of sleep where you are still somewhat awake, when you start to have nonsensical thoughts. Drifting would be the best word for it. I was drifting. Drifting far from here, far from the time that I met John, and I almost settled on sleep.
                  I dreamed that I was on my own personal island and I didn’t have to worry about food or where to go to the bathroom or being bored. There were tons of trees that bore fruit, dead chickens (already plucked), and even sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper. There was a television in the sand that didn’t need to be plugged in. Wireless, I think that’s the term. I was sitting in a chair watching it. Always something entertaining playing, no stupid flags. I can’t recall now what I saw on the television but I remember hearing voices. But there was no one but me on that island.
                  Until I heard some planes or a helicopter in the distance. Not sure what was flying in the air, but it was gradually becoming louder and louder but I didn’t bother to look. I was watching television and drinking some cold water with a straw. I was thinking how I was going to keep this straw so I could reuse it any day I went back to the camp but then I remembered I wasn’t at the camp. I was at the island. I didn’t have to worry about keeping a little stupid straw safe.
                  But then the noise from the planes became louder, like it was swooping down close. The force blew the hat on my head down over my face. I couldn’t see where the plane was coming from but I felt the vibrations in the sand. I reached to the sand but it didn’t feel like anything. I only felt the ground bounce. But somehow I knew it was going to drop a bomb and ruin this paradise because people started screaming in unison, like a choir of hell’s angels or something.
                  But there were no people on this island. I could only hear voices calling out, I couldn’t find the source but I knew it wasn’t coming from the television. It was strange, I was surrounded by this serenity and yet it was filled with ugly, awful invisible cries.
                  Then I started to think that I