The Passed Note Issue 4 June 2017 - Page 40

“I wish we had never left England,” I said, whispering spitefully into my seaweed filled hands. I kept my eyes on Summer. “I wish we had never been shipwrecked.”

With a dismissive throw, I tossed my wish into the sea. It landed with an unsatisfying splash and bobbed hopelessly on the surface of the chill Welsh waters. A timid shore break brought it right back to my bare feet.

“That's what you get for not putting any effort into it, Benedict,” Summer said. Her eyes twinkled wet with tears and sea mist as she bent down to retrieve it. The tips of her curls dampened in the frigid water.

Benedict. Unlike her name, mine never suited me in the slightest. My parents once told me it derived from the Latin word for blessed. But I was not blessed. I was shipwrecked and marooned on a nondescript Welsh island, and it hadn't stopped raining for three days solid. We were the only survivors. We, being my sister and me, and a few boxes of cargo with our saturated belongings that should have been halfway to our Spanish boarding school. I wondered how long it would take before our family realized we were not arriving. And then how long would it take to get rescued?

That was why I wished we had never left the English shores.

“Ben, you can't wish for something not to happen, that's not the point,” Summer said, putting her arm around my sodden shoulder. “You have to wish for something to happen. Not even a siren with magical powers can change the past.”

“It's my wish and I can wish for what I bloody well want. And I wish we had never left and I wish you'd shut up about sirens and their blasted purses.”

I knew I shouldn't have said it, let alone with such venom. She may well have been older than me, but she was gentle and playful, just like the summer. But I was making her mis-