Never Say Goodbye

Chapter 11

 I wake up with three words in my mouth. I was going to scream them, but instead they come out in a sob. "Mom and Dad." I see a note pinned to my blanket. "No."

Emma,

I am so so so sorry again. I tried to use our technique, but Rear Admiral Jones said that he already got my Dad's parental consent, and as of midnight, I am seventeen. I don't think your beautiful research can help us this time. I am sorry. I love you. I know you will want to come after me, but don't. Just don't. I will probably be far gone by the time you would arrive. Besides, you can't walk, and you don't have a car, and we don't have very many taxis here. I don't want you to hurt yourself just to get to me. I am not worth your pain. See you in eighteen years. And remember: I love you. And remember: you are not a grenade. And remember: I am.

Love you forever,

Caleb

But he isn't a grenade... is he? No. He isn't. He isn't sick, but he's gone. I lost him forever. No. I lost him for eighteen years. But if there are beautiful women like the one in the airport, then he will surely come home with her, and never love me again.

My eyes skim over the bottom of the page. On it are words I didn't notice before.

P.S. I want to tell you something before I leave. I wanted to tell you this today, but I had to leave. So, here it goes. Don't hate me. Right before I punched that girl, she kissed me. She pulled me to her by my collar, and just kissed me. I couldn't stop her. I am sorry. That's why I hit her. The guilt is coming with me to the Navy. I hope you can learn to forgive me. I'm sorry.

I feel a lump in my throat. He kissed someone else. But it wasn't his fault. It says so in the letter. He apologized multiple times. I can forgive him. I will forgive him. No. I won't forgive him.

He didn't do anything wrong. There is nothing to forgive him for. The fact that he apologized so many times is flattering and sweet. I can't just let him go like that. I have to do something. But what? He is my everything. My everything. I can't lose him. My brain starts going a mile a minute and then it comes to me.

I take out my phone. And I call a taxi. "Yullow," a chauffeur answers.

"Hello? Um, can you pick me up at Pennsylvania General Hospital? Thank you." I hang up and start hobbling to meet my chauffeur.

When I arrive at the hospital door, the taxi is already parked at the curb. "Where to?" the chauffeur asks.

"The Atlantic Ocean," I answer. "Just leave me off somewhere there. Thank you." The car rumbles as the ignition turns on. I see buildings slide past us, like they are the ones moving, not us.

In about 3 hours, we pull into the beach parking lot. "That'll be $300. Thanks," he says as I hand him my credit card. He swipes my card, I sign the screen, and he hands me my card back. I step out of the door, and the driver murmurs something that sounds like "See ya!" and drives away. I limp over to the ocean, greeted by a cool ocean breeze. Mist splashes against my body. I look side to side and see a person lying on a towel.

"Excuse me?" I say. "Do you know where I could rent a boat?"

"No. Sorry," the lady says. She is pretty, with rosy cheeks and blonde, wavy hair. Her eyelashes are so long that they touch her eyelids, which are sparkling and have the faintest of blue. She has red lips—lipstick. I am amazed by how beautiful she looks. I force myself to look away.

"Thank you," I mutter. There must not be any boats for rent around. I didn't think through this part. I just assumed that there would be boats available. What should I do?

I see a boat, far off in the distance. I can ride that to the Navy boats and find Caleb. But how do I get there? It is far off, at least half a mile away. I can swim there—no, too risky. I have to look for something, anything to get me that far. I can make something—no, I've never been good at building; I failed Tech Ed. I walk along the ocean edge, half a mile left and right. I finally see something floating on top of the water. It's a lost surfboard. I find a long, skinny piece of wood a few feet to the right of the surfboard. I take off my shoes and socks. I sit on the surfboard. It stays afloat. I grab the piece of wood and paddle with it. In ten minutes, I arrive at the boat. My feet are soaked and freezing. But I don't care. I stand on the surfboard so that I can climb onto the boat. I try to stay balanced, but I just fall right into the water. I close my eyes immediately. I float up to the surface, shivering. "Help!" I call to the sailor in the boat. I see a man's face emerge over the boat. I feel a hand grab me by my collar and lift me up, into the boat. I cough, shivering. My clothes are soaked through and stick to my body. "Thank you," I sputter.

"Ya welcome. What a ya doin' ritchere in da freezin' water?" the sailor asks. I hear a faint Louisiana accent.

"I'm actually trying to find you," I answer, standing up. I wrap my hands around my shoulders. "Um, I need to sail with you out there." I point to the general area where I hear faint popping sounds.

"That's kinda fa'. I don't know if ol' Betsy ritchere can take it."

"Please? My boyfriend's out there, and you're my only hope!"

He pauses, tapping his chin. "'Kay," he finally says. "I'll do it."

"Thank you so much!" I exclaim.

"Ya, whateva," he mutters.

The man turns the ignition on, and a deafening noise breaks the silence of the sea. We start towards the direction of the popping sounds.

After a long time, I hear louder gunshots. After a while, I realize they are bombs.

Finally, I see the faint outline of an array of ships, half fighting the other half. The boat sails farther. Now, they are within touching distance if I had a 50-foot pole. "Look!" someone shouts. He points at our boat.

"Fire!" someone else, probably the leader of the Navy, shouts. A thousand eyes train on our boat.

"No!" someone else screams. I recognize that deep voice. Caleb. But he is too late. Bombs are aimed at the boat and fire. I see red and orange. Fire. I see blackness. The bombs.

And then the boat and everything on it, including me and the sailor I met, sink.

And I see nothing.