Sick

As a wave of unexpected misery hit, the books tumbled to the ground. For a moment the girl just stared in shock. Then she knelt down and began stacking her books and collecting loose papers.

The door to the classroom opened and all of the students filed in. Except for the girl. She remained on the ground collecting her belongings.

When all of the binders were stacked, she attempted to stand up, but the exhaustion that had caused the books to tumble from her arms had sapped her strength. Her breath started coming in short, heaving bursts, and the world started spinning. The girl put her head between her knees and her back against the wall. Enough time elapsed that the teacher came out to look for her.

When he saw her sitting there, his eyebrows shot up, and he knelt down next to her. The girl looked up and saw her teacher kneeling beside her. She started to talk, but he cut her off.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes sir, I'm fine. I just needed a breather and I lost track of time," she rushed to say, anxious that she would be in trouble for missing class time.

"If you're sure you're alright then," he said. He rose and offered a hand to the girl. She reached out and grabbed it, and the teacher had to practically haul her upright. Even when she was standing, she was unbalanced and unsteady. She started walking to her seat using all of her remaining energy simply to move eight feet.

The teacher remained outside for a moment. Worry lines creased his brow. He walked back inside carrying the girl's books.

Once the girl sat down, she hurriedly reached for her water bottle. In eight minutes, she drank the whole thirty two-ounce bottle. She was even about to fill her water bottle up, but nausea swept over her.

She stood up as fast as she was able and started limping to the door. "Mr. Cirk," she croaked, "I- I have to go outside."

Now she was at the door. She turned the doorknob and the door swung open. The girl hit the ground hard after having lost her standing support. She crawled out of sight of the students in the class who were watching in the window, and then she laid down on the ground on her back.

The teacher came out. "Alisa, what's wrong," he asked.

By this point, Alisa had started twitching like she was having a siezure. Despite her limbs started to flail, one could clearly see her hand reaching for her pocket.

She groped in her pocket for a quick second before grasping a small, rectangular device. Alisa's hand fumbled, pressing some buttons on the surface of the mechanism. She gasped, then leaned over and retched off the edge of the sidewalk.

"Mr. Cirk, I'm very sorry. You have to promise that you won't tell anyone else what I'm about to tell you," she pleaded.

"Of course," he said, desperation creeping into his voice.

"I have diabetes. And leukemia," she whispered. Mr. Cirk's eyes widened.

"Okay," he said, "I've got to bring you somewhere now."

Mr. Cirk's phone rang. The only thing Alisa could hear was; "I've got the package..."

Mr. Cirk helped Alisa up. He helped her limp over to the athletics facility. When they got there, there was a white van sitting outside the building. A man was leaning against the outside wall.

"Ah, here she is," the man drawled, "Hand her over, Phillip."

"What are you planning on doing with her?" Mr. Cirk asked nervously.

"It's none of her buisness, you've done your job now hand her over and scram," he commanded.

At this point, Alisa slumped down on the wall and slid down it until she was against the ground. She panted heavily trying to get enough air into her lungs. She tried not to use the nasal canal, but when her vision started to turn dark, she found she had no choice. Meanwhile, the two men had started shouting.

"What's wrong with her?" the man shouted.

Mr. Cirk hesitated. He'd promise Alisa he wouldn't tell anyone and the man would probably use the information to his advantage. Mr. Cirk wished he'd never gotten wrapped up in this whole ficasco, but now it was too late.

When Mr. Cirk had found this job, he hadn't known Alisa, and he thought the work would be an easy way to get money. Now, though? He'd been teaching Alisa for three weeks. She was quiet but brilliant. She ought to have been in the grade above. She probably could've even skipped three or four years. She was a genius. And perfect. She never forgot anything and she always got everything right. Her average was a hundred. Was he just to forget that had ever happened. He hadn't know about her diabetes and leukimia, but he'd known something was wrong. No one could be that quiet and that perfect. Plus, Alisa often disapeared for five minutes at a time throughout the duration of the day. Would he be able to live with himself if he handed her over?

That's when he made up his mind.

"No. You can't have her," he said. Neither one of the men was paying attention to Alisa, and she'd taken the opportunity to slowly crawl away.

"You're making the wrong choice," the other man sneered. Mr. Cirk shook his head. The man leaning against the wall stood up straight and whistled really loudly. Alisa shrieked in pain. Men started pouring out of the building. The man who was outside sprinted toward Alisa, scooped her up, and threw her over his shoulder. Mr. Cirk fought very hard to reach her, but the sheer number of people stopped him. He was tossed off to the side a little worse for wear. Alisa, however was thrown into the back of the van. The other men filed in, and the original man hopped in last. He shut the door with one last look out. The car drove away.