Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Nothing starts impossible
But it becomes so when you cease to try
I climbed into the backseat with Lucas and Kayla, my fingers curled tightly around the package from Jamie's dad. Its textured surface was cold against my skin. It felt daunting. I wasn’t ready to open it just yet.
I promised Lucas I would, but only after we got home.
After Kayla dropped the information bomb of the century, I needed a moment to catch my breath.
My dad turned the key, and the engine coughed to life. Honestly, I was shocked it still ran. When we finally arrived home, the house towered above us—an unspoken heaviness hanging over everything.
“Maybe I should go home and change. There’s not much time left,” Kayla suggested, her voice barely cutting through the silence.
“You can wear some of my clothes if you want. There are a bunch of my old dresses in the closet. They’re probably yours anyway,” I tried to keep my tone softer than usual—my attempt at offering an olive branch.
Kayla flashed me a grateful smile, and for a moment, it felt like a fragile truce was forming.
My steps felt like lead as I climbed out of the car.
I could hear Kayla’s footsteps behind me as I walked inside and traveled up the stairs.
Lucas … well, he disappeared to his room to get ready.
My mother’s voice drifted from the bottom of the stairs, faint and far away.
She said something about “forty minutes,” but the words barely registered.
Time didn’t feel real anymore. Nothing did.
I reached my room and set the package down on my bed.
The muted thud sounded louder than it should have.
My hands felt numb, like they weren’t even my own, as I walked to the bathroom.
Mechanically, I splashed water on my face, the icy water barely registering on my pale skin.
My reflection stared back at me in the mirror, unblinking, as I put on makeup and curled my hair.
There was no life in the motions—only routine.
Kayla moved to the closet after what felt like hours of silence, pulling out a dress.
I followed her as if on autopilot, my fingers grazing the soft fabrics hanging inside, each item of clothing etched with a piece of my childhood.
I lingered, my fingers pausing when they touched my graduation dress.
It felt significant, somehow. That day was about goodbyes. Today was no different.
I slipped into the dress, the fabric foreign against my skin, like it no longer belonged to me. Maybe nothing did. I walked to my bed and picked up the package again. Somehow, it felt heavier than before.
A soft knock at the door shattered the fragile silence.
Lucas stepped inside, and the sight of him in that black suit nearly knocked me over.
His eyes were red, swollen; he’d been crying.
“You ready to see what’s inside?” he asked gently, nodding to the package.
He stepped closer, but I could hardly move.
“No,” I said back. “But I never will be.” My fingers shook as I fumbled with the package. The air between us grew thick, every breath heavier than the last. But there was no turning back. There, all three of us stood, looming over the package as if it were a snake about to bite.
We huddled together, and our heartbeats seemed to sync in the shared rhythm of anticipation and dread.
My hands were cold and trembling as I peeled the tape away slowly; the sound of the cardboard tearing cut the air like a knife.
My breath caught in my throat as I pulled the sides of the box apart, terrified of what lay inside.
My heart raced, pounding in my chest as if trying to escape this moment.
I hesitated, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me.
Then, with a shaky breath, I peeked inside.
Inside the box lay a neatly stacked manuscript, the pages slightly curled at the edges as if they had been handled before.
Resting on top was a single envelope, its crisp white paper standing out against the yellowed pages beneath it.
Curious, I reached for the envelope first, my hands trembling slightly as I slid a finger under the flap and pulled out the letter inside. The sight of the official letterhead made my stomach tighten, but it was the bolded words in the first few lines that sent a jolt through me:
“We are pleased to inform you that your submission to the Creative Fiction Contest has been selected as the winning entry. Please contact us at your earliest convenience to discuss next steps for publication.”
I blinked, rereading the words, my mind scrambling. I had never submitted anything.
Heart pounding, I set the letter aside and reached for the manuscript. I gasped as I took in the title printed on the first page: The Enemy of Time. Below it, in sharp, precise type, was my name.
“Is everyone ready? We need to leave soon,” my mother called out as she stepped into the room. I barely registered her words, my mind consumed by the letter before me. Suddenly, I felt a rush of air as my mother gasped.
In an instant, she was hovering over me, her eyes wide with astonishment. The sun's rays filtered through the window, casting a warm glow that illuminated her face as she took in the words etched on the pages. “He did it,” she whispered, a radiant smile breaking across her lips.
“Did what?” My voice quivered. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
How was this even possible? My mind was racing with questions and doubts.
Maybe I was still asleep, and this was all a hallucination from the five-year-old moldy weed.
Maybe I was lying in a hospital, hooked up to IVs, in a coma after falling out of Mr. Heckle's tree.
Anything would make more sense than what was happening in front of me.
My mother's eyes softened as she spoke. “Jamie came over after he saw you in Boston and asked to go into your room.” She placed a comforting hand on my weak arm. “He said if you wouldn’t reach for the stars, he would grab them for you.” She took the manuscript out of the box and opened it up.
“He wrote down all those little poems from your high school journal and submitted them to that contest you refused to enter.”
My mom held the manuscript to me, gesturing gently as she passed it back.
I took it from her and flipped through the pages, each decorated with the words of my childhood and teenage years.
It was like uncovering a time capsule, memories long forgotten suddenly brought back to life and printed on the page for anyone to see.
“He submitted my journal,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“He said you always did your best work when you thought no one was looking,” my mom replied.
He was right.
My fingers continued to move through the pages until I hit the last one. My breath caught in my chest as I read the final words:
To: Bonnie
From: Clyde
-Forever and Always.
I knew Jamie would be my future—that we would be eternally linked, written in the stars, and forever intertwined.
But I never imagined it would be like this.
Jamie fulfilled his promise like he said he would; he gave me the future I desperately wanted but was too fearful to grasp.
I just always thought that the future would be with him, not because of him.
And in that instant, reality crashed down on me. It wasn’t just the book or the day—it was everything. The walls I’d built, the lies I’d told myself, the numbness I’d clung to—it all shattered.
It was real. Today was real.