Cabin Nine [[Revised Edition] Under FURTHER Revision]

Twenty-Five

But all good things come to an end.

At the end of the year, I get accepted to the University of Minnesota. We have this whole party thing, even though it's not that big a deal. Mom and Dad are probably just happy that I got into any college. I don't think they even expected me to apply To celebrate, they buy me a car. It's not an expensive, fancy one. I've never had my own car, though, and I just about cry.

And three days later, Jack calls me at four pm. It's about the time he gets home but he doesn't ever call me before six. I panic at first because he's been waiting for letters from a bunch of Ivy-League schools and what if he's calling me to tell me he didn't get into any of them? He didn't apply to anything I did, so wherever he goes, I'll still be here.

But that's not it.

"Jack? Is everything okay?" I ask.

"There's a letter from Yale."

"Really? What does it say?"

He takes a shuddery breath. "I don't know. I can't open it."

"Do you need me to come over?"

He doesn't reply, so I hang up and drive over to his house. I park haphazardly but I'm not a great driver so no one expects anything more.

The door is unlocked and Jack is sitting on the couch, the Yale letter unopened on the coffee table in front of him.

"Jack?" I ask delicately. I can't remember if a big envelope is good or bad.

He looks up. If possible, he's paler than usual. Jack doesn't tan, so he's usually pretty white but he looks like a sheet of paper right now. His handsa are clasped tightly in his lap, probably to keep them from shaking.

"I can't open it," he says. "What if I didn't get in?"

I sit down next to him, one reassuring hand on his knee. "You've been dreaming of Yale since you were twelve years old. They'd be idiots not to accept you. Your essay was amazing and your grades are great."

Jack doesn't reply.

It's quiet for a while. We both stare at a letter. Jack's probably imagining a future where he doesn't get in and a series of horrible events happen that leave him homeless in New York City. That's generally the disaster area his brain goes to. He never considers that I'll still be there for him, no matter what.

It might make me a horrible person, but I'm dreading the notion of getting in. Yale is in Connecticut. If he goes to Yale, I'll be here all alone. I've never done anything without Jack. I don't know if I can.

"Open it," he finally says.

I can't let him know that I'm praying he doesn't get in, so I do.

Jack covers his eyes while I read the letter.

Oh, my God.

It feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest. My eyes are full of tears and they're not the happy kind. I should be happy. I'm so proud of him. But this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.

"You got in," I whisper.

Jack looks up and freezes for a second. He snatches the letter away to read for himself and he jumps up, grinning like an idiot. I don't know if I've ever seen him so happy.

I force a smile onto my face. It's a well-practiced move but I've never used it on him.

I'm so, so happy for him. But it's absolutely devastating.

We never actually break up, but we agree that long-distance relationships don't normally work. Every time I look at him, all I see is his face during that conversation, begging me not to say those words.