15 Another Goodbye

As we pulled onto the airport tarmac, the sun was only slightly above the horizon, illuminating the jet, a Gulfstream G800 in a beautiful rose-gold hue.

The Gulfstream was the newest in the company’s fleet. It was beautiful and fast, with the longest range of any private aircraft in the world. It could seat nineteen passengers and sleep ten. I figured my father had chosen this jet due to its long-range capabilities, but the more I thought about it, I think he mostly just wanted to take good care of us.

By seven thirty everyone was there except for Cassy. Since the last time I’d seen Cassy, I hadn’t said much about her. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to hurt Taylor, or maybe I just didn’t know what to say—I don’t honestly know—but the truth is, my heart ached for her. Is it possible to love more than one person? It’s a question that the world tries to make look easy or shame you over, but it’s still there. I missed her.

It’s not that I wanted her to come with us. I didn’t. Between her injuries and the cancer, I doubted she could have physically even made the trip to Peru, let alone hike the jungle. But emotionally she was in even worse shape. A broken leg looks painful, but someone can be walking around with a broken heart and we never even see it. I think that happens all the time.

You would think, by now, that I would be used to all this coming and going, but I wasn’t. Something about this mission felt different. Even more than on our first trip to Peru or our last battle in Tuvalu, there was an ominous feel to our departure, and it was like a vapor of dread had permeated the morning air. Maybe Taylor was right and I wasn’t coming back. It was something I didn’t want to give oxygen to, but the thought just kept rolling around in my head.

Maybe that’s why everything around me felt different, like I was seeing everything for the last time: the waking city with its early, yawning traffic; the Owyhee Mountains in the distance; Squaw Butte and Table Rock; the Central mountains, where Taylor and I went camping last summer, where we picked wild huckleberries and caught trout, which we pan-fried and ate outdoors. They were good memories.

Maybe that’s also why our goodbye was shorter than most. My father came over to me with the tracking nickels and GPS trackers.

“You remember these?”

“Yes.”

“Just make sure everyone gets them.”

“Will they still call in a missile strike?”

“No. That function has been deactivated.”

We went over the use of the devices again. Then he gave me a hug, something he didn’t often do. I wondered if my mother had told him about Taylor’s dream and if that was what was fueling all this emotion. Honestly, I wished Taylor had never told me.

My mother was a wreck, of course. All she got out was “Come back safe.” Then she mouthed, “I love you.” She had trouble letting go of me.

Mr. Ridley said, “Bring her back safe.”

To which Mrs. Ridley added, “Both of you. We love you.” It was the first time she’d ever said that to me and the most I’d ever felt like part of their family.

Ostin’s parents didn’t come. I wasn’t as surprised as you’d think. It would have been ugly. Mrs. Liss was as protective as they came. She would have had to be pried loose from Ostin with a crowbar, like when a Gila monster clamps its jaws onto you.

I was the last one on the plane. I looked back, and my mother and I locked eyes. For the first time I doubted that I was doing the right thing. Was I leading all my friends into disaster? Of course the idea of leaving Abigail lost and alone was more than I could handle. And there was no stopping Jack. With or without us he would have gone, which I couldn’t handle either. Not when we had just gotten him back. The whole situation just sucked.

I sat down next to Taylor, who was sitting next to a window. Her eyes were wet. She waved to her parents out the window. The plane’s engines revved up, and we began to taxi. I could see my mother fall into my father’s shoulder and cry.

Suddenly Nichelle said, “Nice jet, eh?”