arriving, a sensation of calmness settles over me. All the tension of the day seems to drain into the land. It feels almost biblical. I imagine how Abraham must have felt out here.
Holding a palm full of jelly beans, I pick out the black licorice ones and eat them first.
A wind breezes by. I tuck strands of loose hair behind my ear. The ends prickle me. My skin bristles. Exhaustion is turning my body into an inverted cactus.
According to my watch, only ten minutes have passed. I check to make sure itâs working.
In the distance, a snore. Have to tell Hila about this. Sheâll flip. Alone in the desert after a grueling day, no sleeping bag, no sleep. I hardly believe Iâm still standing!
The jackal howls again. No point in looking for it. The darkness is like an opaque veil allowing only bits of starlight to shine through.
Stretch. On my toes. Heels. Yawn. An unfamiliar tune pops into my head. The American girl was humming it earlier. âAn indie group,â sheâd said.
I do a few pliés and relevés. Roll my shoulders. Point my toes. Flex. Five minutes pass. Allâs quiet. A few more snores and some murmurs from the tents. What now? Wonder what Noah thinks about when heâs standing guard. Havenât told Shira about Noah, or even about what happened with Ben. Will she be annoyed, jealous?
Twenty minutes left. First forty already gone.
Had Ben made a move back in junior high, it would be different. But now thereâs Noah. Noah â¦Just thinking of him is like having a sweet swig of hot cappuccino.
Ten minutes to go.
Need some sleep before tomorrow.
Tomorrow. Will I make it through another day of sandbags and stretchers? Someone is bound to break soon. Which one of us will drop? Lily? No, sheâs carrying a lot of extra weight, but sheâs so determined, nothing will stop her.
Sixty seconds left. Thirty-nine. Twenty-four. Twenty-three. Twelve. Eleven. Yes! Done! Did it!
Almost skip back to the campsite. Just want to put my head down, close my eyes. Hug my bunny. Sleep the last few hours before they wake us.
âNoga.â I jiggle her shoulder.
No answer.
Thereâs a sour smell about her.
âNoga. Your turn. Get up.â
She groans. âCanât.â
âCome on, Noga. I need to get some sleep.â
I feel that same pinched expression that Lily wore when she bent over me.
âCanât move,â she says. âMy stomach.â
âGet up and youâll get over it.â
âBut my stomach hurts.â She moans. âIt must have been that non-vegetarian food I ate.â
âYou mean the meat.â
She groans again. âMeat,â she cries. âI think Iâm going to be sick. Canned meat. I think Iâve got food poisoning. Get someone else to take my spot.â
âAre you out of your mind?â
She groans and starts to rock.
âYouâre no sicker than the rest of us. Youâre tired. Now, get moving.â
âAggie, please. I canât.â
What am I going to do? The shift after Nogaâs is Sonyaâs. I know she wonât start before three oâclock. And even if she does, weâll still be missing someone for the last hour. Noga pulls the sleeping bag over her head.
Glancing longingly at my makeshift bed, I trudge back to my post.
Just do it, I tell myself. Noga would have done the same for me, were the situation reversed. After tomorrow Iâll sleep for a solid week.
Stretch. Jiggle my limbs loose. Sing a few bars of the Shlomo Artzi song Shira loves, about waiting for the Messiah, whoâs taking his time in coming. I stop in the middle as a sound disrupts the silence.
Footsteps.
They crunch. Boots moving in my direction. My breath catches in my throat. Every nerve tenses. I wait as a figure takes shape through the darkness.
âPrivate.â
âKen, HaMifaked!â I answer, snapping to attention.
I âIdentify yourself.â
âAbigail. I mean,