Prince Tennyson (11 page)

I knew she was trying to get dressed fast because her voice sounded muffled in a towel or something. I wished she would hurry faster.

And then the worst thing that could've ever happened, happened. I heard Grandma scream really loud, and then I heard a whole lot of bumps and bangs and horrible noises, and then nothing. When I didn't hear anything else, I knocked again.

“Grandma? Grandma? Are you okay?” It sounded like she fell really bad.

Nothing. I heard nothing.

“Get up, Grandma! Get up! You have to get up! GRANDMA!”

Nothing. Nothing at all.

The door was locked. My grandma had fallen and I was scared and the house was on fire and the door was locked.

My grandma couldn't help me. I didn't know what to do, and my grandma couldn't help.

The smoke was worse. I didn't want to leave Grandma, but the smoke was worse.

I started to run away to get help, but then I remembered the key to the bathroom. It was above the door.

There was nothing in the hallway to step on, so instead I climbed up the door frame like a monkey, the way Hannah had done tons of times. It was hard and I slipped, but I kept going.

Finally I was able to grasp the key and I jumped down.

As fast as I could, I jammed that key in the lock and jiggled and wiggled and yelled. “Open up, key! Open the door!” It worked. The door swung open, and I gasped.

There was my grandma, lying with her robe on halfway across a big towel on the floor—and halfway across the tub. Her head was bleeding badly. The whole shower curtain had ripped and was hanging off her hand, in a puddle in the tub, catching all that blood.

Chapter Twenty

I WANTED TO BE sick, but the smoke burst into the bathroom. I had to get my grandma out. She needed help, or she would die. It would be too late.

I couldn't have someone else die. I couldn't take it.

Very quickly, I pulled out the washcloth drawer and grabbed a bunch. I only needed two, but my fingers didn't listen. I got two wet in the sink and set them on the edge.

Then I grabbed Grandma by the shoulders and tried to wake her up. When she didn't move, I heaved and pulled and managed to get her off the tub. She lay down on the big towel she always put on the floor.

Blood soaked up that towel quick.

I snatched up one of the wet washcloths and put it all the way over her closed eyes and nose and mouth.

I knew it would keep the smoke out. I had seen it on a movie or on TV somewhere. Then I grabbed the other washcloth and held it over my mouth.

The smoke was getting worse and worse.

I was really scared.

I pulled and pulled that towel my grandma was on and dragged it about eight steps. It was easier when she was on the tile. Her whole body just came with the towel and I felt excited that it was working.

Except then I hit the carpet. And it was much, much harder. I heaved and pulled and dragged and only moved Grandma a whole twelve inches.

It was too hard. I was too small. I couldn't do it.

My eyes had begun to sting and the house felt so hot. I didn't know how long I'd been there. But I was scared and tired and I didn't want Grandma Haney to die.

“Help! Somebody help!” I tried to yell louder, but my face was covered with the washcloth. And when I lifted it up, I choked really badly, so I kept it on instead.

I had to get Grandma to my bedroom across the hall, to my window that faced the road so we could get help. I had to, but it felt like a hundred feet—even though it was probably only twenty. With another heave and gasp, I pulled on the towel.

Nothing. Grandma didn't even move an inch.

It was too heavy.

I was so scared.

“God!” I yelled. I was surprised it came out of me. But once it did, I couldn't stop myself, even though I was much quieter and crying when I mumbled out, “Please. Please, please, if you're real. Please help me, God. Please! I can't do it by myself. And I need to save my grandma. I need to. She can't die. And I can't leave her here. Please, please, please—if you're real, help me.”

I needed a miracle. Right then, I needed a miracle.

I took a deep breath through the washcloth and then held it, as I grabbed on the towel with both hands and the washcloth and pulled and tugged with all my might. My eyes stung from the tears and the smoke, but I didn't care anymore. I pulled and pulled and pulled. Grandma moved a few more inches. But that was it. Just inches.

I clutched the washcloth to my mouth and nose again and breathed. Then I took it away to use both hands and held my breath again. I didn't think about how hot the air was, or how much smoke there was, or where the fire had gone—I only thought about getting my grandma out of the hallway and into my bedroom.

I can do it. I can. I have to.

This time when I leaned over to grab the edge of the towel, two strong arms wrapped around me and clutched the towel too.

I couldn't see them, but I knew they were there because I could feel them.

Then I heard very quietly next to my ear, “You are the most determined girl in the whole world. That's a good thing.”

Dad? Daddy?

I didn't have a chance to be amazed or grateful or anything, because in the next instant, Grandma and the towel were moving and they were moving fast. I just stumbled along inside those arms while I pretended to pull the towel too. But I knew I wasn't. I knew it—there was no way I was pulling the towel that fast.

When we made it to the window in the bedroom, I sat my grandma's towel on the ground under the smoke and turned around. The arms were gone, but I didn't slow down to think about them. I pressed the washcloth to my face, climbed onto the dresser, and tugged the window open. Smoke flew past me.

Lots of thick, black, dark smoke. It covered me completely. I couldn't even see the road out the window to call for help. I couldn't see anything but smoke. Lots and lots of smoke.

I couldn't breathe. Not even with the washcloth over
me.

I tried to call for help, but that didn't work either. I was coughing too much. Then before I knew what was happening, I felt myself growing tired and slipping off the dresser and tumbling to the floor.

The ground hurt.

My eyes stung.

And my coughing was worse and worse.

“You are the most determined girl in the whole world,” the voice said again. “That's a good thing.”

Dad?

My eyes popped open.

They looked right at the secret box of my dad's pictures under my bed. I had forgotten that Mom had put them back under there.

“No,” I gasped.

Not my dad's pictures. We couldn't lose them. Not now.

I was so tired, but I scurried and scooted and scraped across the floor and under the bed until I clasped the box with my hand. Then I scurried and scooted and scraped across the floor to the dresser. With one more final heave, I lunged up on the dresser and threw the box out the window before everything went black and I started to fall and fade away.

I hit the ground again, but this time I didn't care.

From very far away, I could hear the sound of sirens. 

I wasn't worried. Instead, I closed my eyes.

I was with my prince.

Chapter Twenty-one

“CHELSEA! CHELSEA!”

It was my dad. I knew it was. I quickly turned around in a bright, bright room and looked for him. I found him running toward me. He ran perfect and fast and he was so handsome in his uniform.

He was smiling.

When he caught up to me in that bright room, he picked me up and twirled me around and around. It felt so good and wonderful to be held by my dad again. He was strong, like always. And his hug was tight and the best thing ever.

I was so happy to be held by him and see him, I forgot to speak to him. All I remembered to do was cry. I know I'd said I would never cry again, but I had to. He was there. Right in front of me and holding me. It was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I never, ever wanted him to let me go. I needed him to just hold me forever and ever and ever.

I was with my dad again.

It was a miracle. A wonderful, amazing miracle.

Dad chuckled when he tried to set me down and I wouldn't let go. He scooped me back up and crushed me closer to him. “I want to look at you. Can't I set you down?” he asked.

I shook my head into his shoulder and cried more. No. I just wanted him to keep holding me.

“Okay, honey. I'll keep holding you, then.” I felt Dad run his hand over my hair and feel how long it had gotten. He tugged on it a bit, and then said right into my ear, “I'm so proud of you, Chelsea. I am. You were so awesome today. And so brave and strong, and you didn't give up.”

No, I didn't give up. I tried to smile. I
was
smiling. You just couldn't tell.

“Oh, I have missed my determined girl so much,” my dad whispered as he hugged me closer to him.

My heart was so warm, I thought it would burst. I never, ever thought it could be as warm and happy as it was right then. I tried to tell Dad that I've missed him too. I tried to lean back and tell him, but I couldn't. My arms wouldn't let me. Instead, they snuggled closer to him.

“You've grown so much. You're my beautiful girl. I love you.”

I love you. I love you. I love you.

I hugged Dad tighter. He smelled the same. It was so nice. I never knew he had a nice smell until I hugged him again.

“Chelsea? Hey, you, how about I give you a piggyback ride? Would you like that?”

Would I?

I gasped and pulled away fast.

“Oh, I see how it is.” Dad chuckled as he dropped me down gently. Then he looked right at me and messed up my hair. “You won't let me put you down to look at you, but you'll let me do it if I'm gonna give you a piggyback ride, huh?”

I giggled and nodded.

His brown eyes sparkled into mine. “Figures.”

I wanted to remember those sparkles and his brown eyes forever. I searched his eyes and then his whole face, even his smile and the crinkles at his mouth and the corner of his eyes. He was so handsome. The most handsomest prince in the whole world.

“What?” Dad asked. “What is that look for?”

It's because I love you. And I'm so happy to see you again. I tried to tell him that. I tried. But my mouth wouldn't work faster than my body. My arms and legs rushed forward and squeezed my dad again, right around his tummy.

I closed my eyes tight and smiled when I felt his hands trail softly over my back and shoulder. I've missed you, Dad. I've missed you so much.

He must've known what I was trying to say, because the next thing I heard was, “I've missed you too, honey. I've missed you so much.”

When Dad pulled away to kneel down and look at me, really look right at me, I started to cry again. I was taller than him now when he was on his knees. I remembered when we used to be the same height. It made me realize how long he really had been gone.

Dad took my hands and held them with both of his. Then he brought his other hand up to brush my tears away.

I smiled. He made me so happy.

“Chelsea, I'm going to have to go again soon.”

My smile fell.

“No, honey, don't—don't be sad.” His brows came down and he looked worried for me. “I can't take it if you're sad. Please, please stay happy. I love to see you happy.”

I tried to smile, but it didn't work. Where was he going? He couldn't leave me again. I searched his eyes for answers.

No. I shook my head. No.

His fingers ran through the ends of my hair. “Look.” He brought his hand down and both of his hands held mine. “I'm real, honey. And I'm here. I'm with you. I just can't
live
with you. I get to see you and watch you, but I can't stay always.”

My eyes got teary again. I wanted him by me always.

“Whenever you need me, just ask and I'll come. I love you. And I promise I'll be there for all the important things that happen to you, okay?”

I nodded and bit my lip. I didn't like it, but I didn't think I got to choose whether he stayed or not. Dad smiled a sad smile and then ruffled my hair again. “Now, how about I give you that piggyback ride I promised?”

I grinned and nodded.

He got off his knees and crouched down so I could climb up. Without hesitating, I jumped and held on tight as I felt myself being lifted into the air. Dad did a couple of bounces to adjust me and get a good grip on my legs before he began to walk, and then run.

I laughed and clung onto his uniform. It was like I was a little kid all over again. It felt so amazing and free.

I was so happy.