The End of Forever, chapter four

It’s dinnertime. Dad comes to the table. I’m afraid he’s going to start screaming again, but he doesn’t. In fact, he isn’t showing any anger at all. But his eyes are red, and a lone tear hangs in the corner of his eye. He’s been crying. I can’t believe it. Dad never cries.

Weird. But then, everything’s weird now.

Who’s Gretchen? Where’s Long Beach Island? Is the beach house in the journal the same one in the picture? Why was I friends with Mikka? And then there’s Lissie. Contrary to everything the journal says, Lissie Border is the quietest nine-year-old I have ever met.

I open the diary and prepare for everything to get weirder. I'm not disappointed.

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June 18, 2004
We’ve been at the beach for two days. Every day is pretty much the same, but every day is great, so I’m not complaneing. If every day of my was like this, I’d love it. But I have to settle with only the summer, which isn’t too bad. Three months a year is enough to get a lot done. And I’m going to spend those three months like this forever, no matter what. Maybe, when I grow up, I’ll be able to spend more than just three months.

Yesterday, I woke up at and we imediately got ready to go swimming. Today, I was so exsited that I woke up early. Now I can’t go back to sleep, and it’s 8:00. So I desided to write in this dumb book and get it over with for the day. Later I won’t feel like doing it.

Later:

OK. I was wrong. So what?

I got to the beach. It was an almost perfect day. I say almost, because it’s never completely perfect. It’s the beach, not a swimming pool. If it were perfect, I’d hate it.

Anyway, it was almost perfect. The water was sort of warm, meaning there were no ice chunks floating around in it. There weren’t any jellyfish either.

There were a few flies, but they don’t bother you if you’re in the water. Of course, Gretchen didn’t go in the water, so she got attacked. We told her that she should come in, because then she wouldn’t get attacked, and anyway, the waves weren’t even that big. Once you got past the breakers, it was almost like a swimming pool. Almost. If it was like a swimming pool, I’d never get in.

Of course, we told her this after we left, because we were having too much fun in the water while we were there. She said she might come in tomorrow.

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The entry is even harder to read than usual, because it is scribbled out and there are smear marks as if water had dripped on it. The last sentence is almost illegible.

I quickly turn to the next page. It is blank. I had just read the last entry in the diary.