Zazzalil sat in the bathroom stall, flicking the lighter on and off. She watched the tiny flame flicker in and out of existence with growing frustration. This wasn't doing it. She sighed and ran one hand through her long curly, light brown hair. Her restlessness grew. She tied up her hair. I should really talk to somebody, Zazzalil thought and then shook her head. Today was not that day. The petit girl listened quietly for a moment; making sure she was alone in the bathroom. All was quiet except for her own slightly uneven breathing. Zazzalil rolled up one sleeve of her oversized red hoodie. Little brown marks in various stages of healing covered her arm. Burn marks. She really needed to stop doing this to herself. But today was not that day. She sighed again and flicked the lighter to life, staring at the flame for a little bit before touching it to her bare skin. A sharp intake of breath. She held it and then let the flame die. Her skin was red, but the fire hadn't been there long enough to blister. Silent tears fell. She flicked the lighter again just as the bathroom door opened. She kept the lighter lit. The hot metal was starting to burn her thumb, but she was used to it and she didn't want to be caught. The other person in the bathroom flushed and went to the sink. The lighter was still burning. It was really starting to hurt. "Ah!" she exclaimed, unable to keep from reacting to the pain. The lighter clattered to floor and slid out of the stall. Fuck. The sink stopped running and she watched a pair of tan TOMS approach her stall door. The person stooped to retrieve her lighter. Zazzalil reacted before she could think, shooting up and wrenching open the stall door.

"Hey that's mine!" She yelled. She hadn't meant to be that loud. Zazzalil looked up into the face of the girl. Great. It was Jemilla. Student body president. Drama club president. She would probably be valedictorian. And to top it all off she was impeccably beautiful and fit. Man, it pissed Zazz off. Today was not her day.

"Obviously," Jemilla scoffed with an indignant look, "You're not allowed to smoke in here. I should really turn you in."

"I wasn't smoking," Zazzalil retorted.

"Oh," Jemilla's expression was disbelieving, "Then what were y—" Her faced changed from mistrust to concern as she noticed Zazzalil's tear streaked face. God damn it! "Zazzalil?"

She bolted.

/

Zazzalil didn't go to the rest of her classes that day. She didn't want to talk to anyone, and she definitely didn't want to run into Jemilla again. So she went home. Zazz pushed open the gate of The Tribe Group Home. It was a large, older house that was welcoming enough in its own way. She lived here with 4 other girls and their foster parents (or The Tribe Leaders as everyone called them). Mercifully, no one would be home this early in the day. Zazzalil opened the door to the bedroom she shared with another girl, Keeri. The room was moderately sized with two twin beds on either side. Next to each bed was a bedside table with a lamp. There was also a large chest and the end of each bed for personal belongings. Each side of the room also had a desk and a small dresser. It was the nicest place she'd ever stayed, and she had been in A LOT of homes. She'd been in this particular home since eighth grade and would probably (hopefully) be there until she graduated at the end of the year. All her housemates were nice, as were the Tribe Leaders Clark and Claire. But Zazzalil mostly kept to herself. Keeri was her best friend and the only person she truly interacted with.

Zazzalil walked to left side of the room (her side), collapsed on the bed and curled up in a ball. She stayed there until Keeri came home.

/

"Do you want to talk about it?" Keeri had entered the room to the, sadly, familiar sight of Zazzalil curled in on herself. She waited for Zazz to respond. Sometimes it took a while. The tall blonde girl tossed her bags onto her own bed. One was for the school, the other held her dance clothes. Keeri then took down the two loose buns she kept her hair up in everyday and let her blond hair fall over her shoulders. Still no response from Zazz. Keeri sighed and crossed the room.

"May I?"

She waited…then Zazz scooted over to make room for her. Keeri laid down, spooning Zazz whilst making sure not to touch her harm, just in case. The stayed liked that for another few minutes until Zazzalil spoke. Her voice was hoarse from crying, from yelling earlier, and from general disuse.

"Jemilla almost caught me in the bathroom today," she croaked.

"What? How? What happened?"

Zazzalil recounted the story ending with, "And that bitch took my lighter."

Keeri considered her response. She wasn't as dumb as people thought she was. They always underestimated the foster kids.

After a moment Keeri said, "Maybe that's a good thing?"

Zazzalil shot up into a sitting position, scowling down at Keeri. "A good thing? Seriously?"

Keeri continued quickly, "Well yeah. I mean like now that Jemilla has your lighter. Maybe you can—"

"I have other lighters Keeri."

There was another moment of silence as Keeri's argument fizzled out. Then,

"I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you is all. Really worried. You haven't been getting better. You need to talk to somebody."

"I talk to you."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"I know. I'm working on it. Just please don't say anything to Claire and Clark."

"Zazzalil, I-"

"Please!"

Keeri looked into Zazzalil's now tear-filled eyes.

"Okay."

"Thank you. I love you." I'm going to go take a shower."

Keeri watched Zazzalil with concern as she disappeared out the door and down the hall.

/

The shower sprang on. Zazzalil undressed slowly as the water heated up. How did I get here? Steam rose from the shower. Zazz stepped into the warm spray and reflected on her life. She had a pretty happy early childhood. Her single father raised her after her mother died in childbirth. He was an anthropologist and they traveled all over the world, living amongst and researching different tribes and native peoples. Then, at age ten, her life changed forever.

She turned the water temperature up.

Her and her dad and his team had gone on a months long research trip to Africa. One day, as a local girl around her age was teaching her to build a spear, her father's best friend and research partner had come backing out of the woods. He was dragging something. No, someBODY. He screamed for help. The locals and the rest of the team went running. Zazzalil had stood to run too, but an elderly tribeswoman, Molag, grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the scene, into a hut. Later that night, she learned of her father's tragic death. He had been trampled by a rampaging elephant. There was no way anybody could have survived his injuries.

She turned up the water again, wincing as it became slightly uncomfortable.

Her dad's friend killed himself a short while after they returned to the States. Zazzalil had no living relatives, so into the system she went.

Another turn of the faucet. The heat of the water was definitely hurting her now. But she didn't care.

She lived the stereotypical life of a foster child from that point on. Zazz was bounced from home to horrible home. She never formed any meaningful relationships. She retreated into herself. It wreaked havoc on her psyche. The burning started soon after.

One more turn. The hot water was all the way up now. It was scalding, the droplets turning to tiny pinpricks of pain. The bathroom filled with steam so thick she could barely see. Zazzalil wept silently.

A knock on the door.

"Zazz?" It was Keeri. Shit, how long have I been in here? "Zazz the Tribe Leaders say it's time for dinner."

Zazzalil took a few deep breaths before shouting, "K! Be right down!" in what she hoped was a lighthearted voice and turned off the shower. She dressed in red plaid pajama pants and a maroon sweatshirt, making sure the sleeves stayed down before exiting the bathroom.

/

Zazzalil was the last to the table. Keeri gave her a brief smile as she took her place next to her best friend. Clark and Claire were at either end of the large table. Keeri and Zazz sat on one side. Swoopsie, Tiblyn, and Emberly sat on the other. Everyone was chatting excitedly about there day. Zazz stayed quiet, playing with her broccoli. She wanted to go upstairs but she knew if she left too early, the Tribe Leaders would question her. So she endured. The doorbell rang.

"Hmm, anyone expecting company?" asked Claire sweetly. Everyone shook their heads.

"I'll get it then," volunteered Clark, rising. The table stayed quiet to hear was going on down the hall. Clark unlocked and opened the door.

"Oh hello," he said cheerily, "Are you one of our kid's friends from school? We're just having dinner now. Chicken and vegetables. You're welcome to join us."

"Oh no I couldn't impose." Zazzalil froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. Jemilla. What the FUCK was Jemilla doing here? Keeri was eyeing Zazz. The conversation at the door continued.

"Actually, I would like to speak with Zazzalil for a second. If you don't mind of course Mr-?

"Clark. All the kids just call me Clark."

"Okay, Clark. I just need a few moments. I won't keep her long."

"No problem. I'll get her. Hey Zazz?!," Clark called over his shoulder, "There's a someone at the door for you! Says her name's Jemilla!"

All eyes fell on Zazzalil's reddening face. She closed her eyes. FUCK. Zazzalil set her face in what she hoped was an off-putting expression and pushed of from the table. She mumbled a thanks to Clark as she stepped onto the porch with Jemilla, letting the door shut behind her.

It was a chilly late-October twilight. Zazzalil stood barefoot in her pajamas, arms crossed, staring at the chipping paint of the porch floorboards. Jemilla was wearing a pair of jeans, black boots, a black sweater, and a turquoise scarf. Her shoulder length curly auburn hair was pulled up in a ponytail. The epitome of perfect and put-togetherness. As always. It made Zazz sick.

"So what do you want?" asked Zazz pointedly.

Jemilla frowned, "Well hi to you too."

"We're not friends Jemilla."

"I'm just being polite."

"Fine. Hi. Now what do you want?"

Jemilla reached into her jeans pocket and held out her hand. Zazz looked up. Her lighter. She gazed into Jemilla's face for a second. She had a stunning smile. Zazz dropped her eyes and took the lighter.

"Um…thanks."

An awkward pause. Then Jemilla spoke.

"Look Zazzalil. I don't know what's going on. It's none of my business, but if you need help..."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know you're more than people give you credit for. I'm a teachers' assistant. I've seen your grades in science. You're brilliant at it. You could be an engineer. And I know you have an excellent singing voice. We were in choir together before you dropped out. I see how much you care about that girl, Keeri, even though you want people to think you don't care about anything or anybody. I'm sure there's much more about you I don't know. Just as a fellow student, I want you to know that you have value, whether you realize it or not."

Zazz hadn't expected this. Just how long had Jemilla been watching her? The nerve of Jemilla. Trying to be her knight in shining armor. She didn't need her help or want her pity. Zazz opened her mouth to spit back a retort, then closed it again, and murmured a quick "Yeah okay. Gotta go."

"Zazzalil wait!" The door slammed shut.

Zazzalil sprinted down the hall, pass the kitchen, and up the stairs to her room. She threw herself on her bed hoping Jemilla hadn't noticed the angry tears in her eyes and cried herself to sleep, lighter clutch in her fist.

/

Zazzalil woke around midnight. The room was dark. Light snores drifted over from Keeri's bed. Zazz rolled over onto her back, toying with her lighter. It was warm and familiar. Safe. The only constant in her life. As she flicked it on and off, she thought about her interaction with Jemilla. God that girl was such a nosy goodie-two-shoes. Why did she CARE so much? She should learn to mind her own business. And yet, Jemilla had said all that nice stuff about her. The most popular, successful girl at school had NOTICED her. Why was that? Zazzalil decided she wasn't worth it and rolled over into a fitful sleep.