Free Whole Pieces by Ronie Kendig

the others and spoke to them in English. Though Abda had learned some English from the soldiers, he couldn’t use the language the way they did. He recognized two words: . . . kid . . . box  . . .
    Abda held tighter to his treasure box. Surely they were not going to take it away from him. But then, the one opposite Hawk rolled onto his back, reached into a pocket on his pants, and tugged something free. He held it out.
    Abda frowned and looked at Hawk. What did the soldier want him to do with it?
    â€œFor your box,” Hawk said in Pashto.
    He spun back toward the man, then looked at the small flashlight. “For me?” It felt like a blanket, warmed by a fire, draped over his shoulders, when the soldier nodded.
    Afraid the man would jerk it away and laugh, Abda slowly reached for it. When his hands closed around the metal, he pushed his gaze to the soldier. “Thank you.”
    The man smiled.
    â€œHere,” another said.
    Abda froze when he saw the candy bar. They were so sweet and good, better than cashews. He accepted it with a nod and thanks. As he placed the two items in the box, he heard the others talking. They passed him a cord bracelet, a packet of Army food, and other things. His box was as full as his heart. Abda could barely close it when he turned to Hawk, who crouched by the edge of the foxhole.
    â€œI can’t believe it,” he said with a laugh. “So many things. I will need another box.”
    Hawk reached into his side pocket and pulled out a thin device. Abda had seen other soldiers with those things, and long wires going up into their ears. Hawk plucked the wires out—and a piece of paper fluttered to the ground.
    Hawk went very still. Not as still as when he looked dead.
    Abda lifted the paper, surprised to find a pretty woman. “She is your wife?”
    A half smile teased Hawk’s mouth. “No.” He took the picture back.
    â€œWhy not? She’s pretty.”
    The smile grew big. “Yeah, she is.”
    â€œYou should marry her and have children. A son, like me!”
    Though he smiled, Hawk didn’t look happy.
    â€œWhat is wrong? Do you love her?”
    Hawk swallowed. “Yeah . . .”
    â€œHey.” Hawk’s boss looked mad. “Move. Now.”
    â€œCome on,” Hawk said as he crawled out of the hole and motioned Abda to come with him.
    He clambered out and followed the soldier with all his gear and weapon. They scooted around the edge of the hill, past Delaram and the other sheep. Crouching behind a tree, Hawk paused and pointed to the homes. “You live there?”
    Abda nodded. “Yes, and the Sand Spider is still there.”
    â€œWell, here.” Hawk tugged out wires from his pocket, plugged them into the device, then pressed a button and spoke into it.
    What was he saying? Abda couldn’t quite tell because he’d spoken so softly.
    Hawk placed the tips of the wires in Abda’s ears and then showed him how to turn it on. Music flowed through the wires. Loud, thumping music. With a swipe of his finger, Hawk changed the song. A softer one.
    Then one more move and he heard this: “ Abda, you will always be my friend. Proverbs 16:32 says, ‘Better a patient person than a warrior, one with self-control than one who takes a city.’ Remember to have self-control, friend.”
    Abda looked up at the soldier. “Really? We are friends?”
    On a knee, Hawk caught him by the shoulders. “Abda, listen.” His eyes looked back and forth over Abda’s face. “I . . .” He sighed. Squeezed Abda’s shoulders. “Do you believe in God?”
    â€œAllah? Yes.”
    That didn’t seem to be the answer Hawk wanted. “We are friends, yes?”
    â€œYes, I like that very much.”
    â€œI need you to promise me one thing.”
    â€œI will try.”
    â€œDo not tell anyone about us, Abda. No matter what they ask