The day before I plan to leave sees me franticly packing, trying to make sure I have everything I need for school. Once I finish with the school supplies, I turn to the diabetes supplies.
I hoist an extra suitcase onto the bed, and then begin to fill it with everything from my bottom two desk drawers.
Pump sites, pump cartridges, syringes, needles, an insulin pen (you screw the vial of insulin onto the pen, then dial up your dose and inject. It's much simpler than syringes, but it's harder to use when filling a pump because it can only go up to 200, and most people use more to fill their pumps), blood ketone meter (a device I use to make sure that no ketones have developed), blood glucose meter and equipment, my 64-ounce water-bottle, CGM sensors and transmitters, and a load of alcohol swabs. I round up all my candy, three more glucagon kits, several random containers of glucose tablets, medical ID jewelry, bateries and the documents stating that I am a type 1 diabetic. I then throw in some of my favorite books about diabetes and understanding how to make it fit into your life. After all of that, I have to put all my insulin (both rapid-acting for my pump and to cover meals, and long-acting in case I have to switch back to shots for awhile) into an insulated pouch to keep it cool; unopened insulin doesn't do well in extreme temperatures, and once opened, a vial can only last 28 days before losing it's effectiveness. I then sit on my suitcase to zip it up.
I climb into my bed for the last time for the year and set the alarm to wake me at four in the morning. I make sure that I can charge my phone, and that my portable charger is charging as well. Then, I roll over, and try to sleep.
Before I leave, I creep down the stairs to Harry's closet. I can't just disappear on him; it would just be too much. I slip inside, and shake him awake.
"Kenna?" He's probably surprised; Dad hasn't beaten him up, and he's been allowed to eat, which are the normal reasons I sneak down here.
"I'm about to leave for the school year." I say, raising a hand to cut off any questions. "I'll explain everything next summer, I promise, but I'm on a time crunch. Here." I hand him the first-aid kit, as well as some instructions for stitching up wounds. I hope he won't need them, but I know he wdd
Of everything that makes me nervous about my new school, leaving Harry is the thing that scares me the most. I'm worried that my father might cross some line, or that Harry might bleed out due to untreated injuries. I'm scared that he may be hurt too badly for simple first aid supplies to fix.
My cousin gives me a tight hug, holding on for dear life. I rub his shoulders gently, and let him cry a little before pulling back. I keep my hands on his shoulders as I stare into his emerald green eyes. "You can do this; it's just from now until June 5, and then I'll be back. I promise."
"Promise?" Harry asks. I nod in the affirmative.
"Promise. And you know how I am with promises."
"You've never made one you couldn't keep." Harry says with a small smile.
"Right." I squeeze his shoulders, kiss his cheek, and slide out of his closet. "Love you, Harry."
"Love you, Kenna."
I sling my purse over my shoulder, put on my medial ID necklace, and then grab my stuff. I stop for a few seconds by the door, wishing I wouldn't be so far away from my cousin. Sighing, I pull the door open and step out into the cool night air.
I wait at the bus stop for about fifteen minutes before one pulls up. I climb on, hauling my things behind me. I hoist the trunk and suitcase up into the lugage rack above an empty seat, then sit down and watch the world go by.
I step off at the London stop, and lug my stuff over to King's Cross Station, right down the street. Since I still have some money left over from the twenty pounds Mom had given me to get there on my own, I swing by MacDonalds to get some breakfast.
It's about seven in the morning, and staying discrete is hard, but not impossible. I keep one eye on the time, the other on what's going on around me.
I pull out the book I'm currently reading, The Hunger Games, and open to where I left off. I read for about an hour, before marking my page and putting the book away. I run to the bathroom, then sit and people watch.
I pay particularly close attention to platforms nine and ten. Surely Platform Nine and Three Quarters, the platform I'm supposed to take to get to school, will be between these two. If I can just figure out how to get through...
I see a few people heading in that dirrection, but none of them were going to my platform. I briefly consider delaying a guard, but figure that if I have never heard of Hogwarts before getting my letter, the guard wouldn't know either. After all, everything about this is so secretive.
I sigh, and check the time on my phone. It's ten o'clock; I've managed to waste an hour and a half. I grab my luggage, and make my way towards the platform. I'm almost there when I hear a voice behind me.
"The place is full of Muggles, of course. Now, what's the platform number?"
"Nine and three quarters." pipes up a little girl's voice. I spin around, and come to face to face with a large family: a plump woman, five boys, and one girl, all of whom have flaming red hair.
"Um... hi. Did you say platform nine and three quarters?" I hold up my train ticket. The woman nods.
"Yes, Dear. First time at Hogwarts? Fred and George are new, too." I smile at the two redheaded boys who look to be about my age.
"Alright, Charlie. You first." The eldest, whom I'm assuming Charlie, moves brusquely to the wall between Nine and Ten. He then disappears.
"Alright, Percy." Percy moves just as easily towards the wall, and then he too, disappears.
"Fred," Fred and George go one after the other, and then the woman smiles warmly at me. "Alright, dear. To get on the platform, you have to walk straight at the burrier between the platforms. Don't stop, and don't be afraid to crash. That's important. Best to do it at a run if you're nervous."
I move swiftly through the crowd until I stand between platforms nine and tEn. I take a deep breath, make sure I have a good grip on my cart, and then take off at a run towards the wall... and through it.
I stand on a platform that reads Nine and Three Quarters. A scarlet steam-engine gleams in sunlight. Yes! I silently throw my fist high into the air in victory.
I move slowly down the train, searching for an empty compartment. When I find one, I begin the task of hoisting my stuff up onto the luggage rack. First the suitcase, then a struggle with the trunk.
I slip into the corner seat, and sprawl out, intent on getting some more sleep.
"Can we join you?" I look over at the doorway. The twins, Fred and George, are standing there.
"Sure. I'm Kenna, by the way. Kenna Dursley."