Proof of Forever (22 page)

Ellis responds by rolling on top of her, writhing against her. Zoe can't believe how mad she was at Ellis only moments before, and now she wants this to keep happening, on and on. It's like she has found her perfect match.

A blaze of lightning flashes in the not-so-far distance, putting Zoe on alert, as though they've just been caught on camera. It's enough for Ellis to pull herself off Zoe, rolling next to her again.
She laughs, and Zoe suddenly feels left out of the joke.

“What's so funny?” she asks, still catching her breath.

“Nothing,” Ellis says, her voice high and soft. “You're just kind of a natural at this.”

Instantly, the knot re-forms in Zoe's gut. The wild truth of the situation occurs to her now, as swift and bright as a lightning bolt: This isn't Ellis's first time. With a girl. Like this.

Far from it. She knows exactly what she's doing.

And what she's doing is using Zoe. Because it must be obvious Zoe doesn't want this.

It
is
obvious.

Isn't it?

For some reason, Tali's words during their fight float back to Zoe.
Content to stay stuck.
Something is illuminated, deep inside Zoe's chest now—harsh and sudden as the lightning—something she's been tamping down for a long time, plugging up like a persistent leak. A secret knowledge writhing within her that has wanted to breathe, to break the surface, for so long.

Ellis is talking, saying something else she apparently finds funny, but now all Zoe hears is Joy's voice. Joy from when they were both thirteen, just graduating middle school. At a sleepover party at Joy's house. Everyone had gone around saying the name of the boy they had a crush on. And Zoe insisted she didn't have one. But she
did
spend a lot of time staring at Joy's family's foreign exchange student, a tall, pretty blond girl named Katie, from Switzerland or Norway or somewhere. She was older, and effortlessly beautiful. Confident, too, even though she barely knew the
other girls. Katie had an avid crush on a boy named Orlando at the high school; he liked to wear floppy hats and his brother was a big-time jazz musician or something. Katie played their newest album on repeat. And when Katie went into the room she was sharing with Joy to change into her pajamas, she left the door open, like they all always did—no one made a big deal about it. They were always getting dressed around one another. But for some reason, for Zoe, this was different. Katie was like an exotic animal, something fascinating and transfixing in the way she moved and dressed and spoke. Zoe watched Katie take off her clothes, swallowing repeatedly, her throat inexplicably dry. Later that night, Joy and Zoe were alone. The other girls had gone outside to tell ghost stories, and Joy and Zoe were looking for extra flashlights in Joy's kitchen. Joy turned to her then, when no one was around. “If there's anything you want to tell me, Zoe, you can, ya know,” she said. “I promise I won't judge you or anything.”

Her words were innocent and kind—typical Joy—but to Zoe they felt like the time Luce's little brothers attacked her with punches. But worse, she also felt exposed, endangered, like she was standing naked in the middle of a highway.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Joy,” she said then. And whatever small flower of truth had been blooming inside her withered.

Over the last few years, Zoe has added more and more dirt to the pile, burying the voice of truth inside her.

And now, here it is.

“What's the matter?” Ellis is saying.

Everything,
Zoe thinks.
You. This. The kiss.

But she knows. She knows it isn't just this. It isn't just the kiss.

It isn't just Ellis.

She pushes herself up off the floor of the gazebo and begins to run.

“Zoe!” Ellis shouts, but the rain drowns her out.

Zoe heads for the sloped part of the woods that leads downhill toward camp. She runs hard, her muscles still alive and vibrating from the tournament. The gold medal bounces against her chest bone like an angry metronome, counting her steps as she runs farther and farther away from that gazebo, away from herself.

I do not want to like her,
she insists in her mind, picturing Ellis's odd, fox-like grin, then dismissing it.
She's spoiled and horrible. I definitely don't like her. And I don't want to BE like her.

The thoughts repeat rhythmically:
I don't want to like her. I don't want to BE like her. I don't want to like her. I don't want to BE like her.
The inner chanting strangely calms her as she races downhill and the entrance to Camp Okahatchee comes into view in the distance.
I don't want to like her. I don't want to BE like her.
The rain blurs her eyes, but she keeps running.

I don't want to like her. I don't want to BE like her.

Finally, heaving, out of breath, and surrounded by trees, Zoe can run no farther. She looks up at the swaying branches of the evergreens, gray like the sky, dappled with the rain pouring down on them. She touches her face. Is she crying or is it just the rain?

She drops her hand and stands there, getting soaked, blinking
into the rain, staring and staring at the sky, waiting for an answer.

Finally, the answer comes:

I DO like her.

And then, a distant echo:
I AM like her.

The certainty thuds deep down into Zoe's chest, and she sways, almost dizzy, backing up as though if she could only rewind her life, retrace her steps, she might come to a different conclusion.

She swivels around in the density of the woods, panic seizing her, that old nightmare of being buried alive creeping over her now, reaching around her neck, choking her.

She staggers through the thick trees, rain pummeling her, and that's when she stumbles upon it:

A body.

Shaking and shivering on the forest floor.

Joy.

It's dark. No rain falls, but her body is wet, her clothes clinging to her uncomfortably. The trees wink in her peripheral vision; they seem to be chattering in worried tones. Hands gather around her. She's being lifted.

Joy blinks, her vision clearing. She's looking into the faces of her three best friends. Tali's dark skin and even darker eyes blend into the night around them. Zoe's shirt falls from her shoulder, which seems to glow, a small moon. Luce looks pale and frazzled. More than that, she looks
young
. Like a scared kid. Both Tali and Zoe hook their arms underneath Joy's armpits, dragging her forward through the woods, while Luce is saying something urgently, holding up Joy's backpack, gesticulating with her hands, asking questions.

Where is she? And that's when it comes back to her: She fainted. However long ago that was.
Shit.
It had been so hot, she remembers—too hot. But now the air has cooled off, and
she realizes she's shivering. Her legs feel weak.

“What
happened
?” Luce is demanding. “Joy,
tell
us!”

“Guys, I'm fine,” Joy manages, finding her voice. “Really. I just . . . I passed out. It's a hangover.”

Under her breath, Zoe mutters, “I've never seen a hangover
that
bad.”

“Where's Ryder? Who won the scavenger hunt?” Joy asks, knowing her voice sounds weak, but not caring.

The three girls look at her with exasperation.

“We don't
know
,” Tali states flatly. “We got sidetracked reviving you and dragging you off the forest floor.”

“Seriously,” Joy says, her throat scratchy. She knows they're mad. And maybe they should be. But she's so tired. She doesn't want to fight. It's the last night of camp, and all they want to do is argue and disagree and worry. “Please, stop. You guys can let go of me. I knew I should've had a Gatorade.”

“A Gatorade?” Zoe practically shouts. “Joy, we're taking you to the infirmary. You're
sick
.”

“No,” Joy says, trying to drag her feet to a stop. The other girls struggle to keep her on the path. “How come you guys won't listen to me?” She manages to wrestle free of them and stands back, as the dizziness clears from her head like a wave receding from shore. “Look. See? I can walk on my own now. It's
fine
.”

“Why are you being like this?” Luce demands. “You
passed out
, Joy. And now you're acting like nothing happened.”

Joy sighs. “Because nothing
did
happen, I promise. Nothing.
I only fainted because I was dehydrated. And I completely forgot to have breakfast and lunch. It happens to everyone. You don't need to take care of me. It's the last night of camp. I just want to enjoy it.”

Zoe rubs her forehead. “I don't know . . .”

“Are you
sure
, Joy?” Luce says.

Tali throws her hands in the air. “You guys, she's clearly not okay. Joy, you need to get checked out. You could have mono or the flu or something.”

Joy shakes her head. “I hate the Wellness Cabin! Come on, I promise you I'm fine. See?” She grabs Tali's hand and places it on her forehead. “Just cold from the rain.”

Tali looks at her skeptically but shakes her head—obviously relenting.

“So who won the scavenger hunt?” she asks, hoping to redirect their attention.

Zoe shrugs—she seems to be avoiding eye contact with all of them. Joy can sense that the tension between her and Tali has not yet been resolved—they are standing as far apart from each other as they can. “I missed the game . . . I was busy at the tournament.” Zoe holds up her gold medal, looking proud, and something else, too. Something Joy can't quite pinpoint.

Luce sighs. “We stopped counting items when we found
you
,” she says. “You're the important thing.”

Tali pulls a ripped piece of fabric out of her pocket and displays it to the rest of them. “At least I got these, though.” The material is mostly white, but with little cartoon drawings of Batman on
it. Blake's boxers. Or half of them, anyway—enough to cover a single butt cheek, probably. “This thing—this crazy plan . . . maybe it'll really work.”

They emerge together from the woods, and Joy can see the moon now, through the parted clouds. The fields are glittering and wet, but at least the storm has passed. She takes a deep breath. Out of the forest, it doesn't seem so late out, so bleak. Dinging singsong noises trickle over to them from the Great Lawn, where she can make out the white cream-puff peaks of the big tent. Red, blue, and purple lights bounce off the remaining clouds.

The reunion night carnival has begun.

“Um, guys?” Zoe says, pointing into the crowd of people hovering by the nearest tent. “Did someone call camp pharmaceuticals?”

Joy follows her gaze to see Rob Gurns jogging toward them. Sure enough, he seems to be waving at them, though she can't imagine what he wants with their crew.

“Hey, Luce,” Rob says as he approaches.

The others gape slightly.

He holds out his closed fist, with a mysterious, lopsided grin on his face. Joy could swear that Luce is blushing as she takes whatever small object he has just handed her. “Hope you don't mind my bailing the other night—my record really can't take another hit. Maybe this will make up for it.”

Luce begins to say something, but Rob holds up a hand to silence her.

“Don't read into it. It's just—like you said—the having of it,
not the meaning of it. Or whatever.” He nods to the other three girls, giving Tali a random salute, then jogs away.

“What was that about?” Tali asks.

Zoe steps closer to Luce. “Did he just hand you a bag of pot or something?”

“The merit badge,” Luce whispers, holding it up so they can see. “He stole it for me.”

Tali folds her arms. “Why?”

Luce shrugs. “Long story. I guess he kind of owed me one.”

Zoe looks at all their faces. “So does this mean we actually have all four of the objects now?”

Everyone looks at Joy, wearing mingled expressions of excitement and hope. She can plainly see the medal around Zoe's neck, the boxers stuffed partway into Tali's pocket, and the merit badge still in Luce's palm.

She stands there, trying to figure out how to steer this, how to say the right thing. “Actually . . . ,” she stalls, shaking her head as heat creeps into her cheeks; she's glad night's descending. “I, um, lost the tiara last night,” she explains.

“You
lost
it?” Tali squawks. “What do you mean you lost it?”

Joy hugs herself. “I just did, okay?” she says quickly.

Zoe studies her face as if she doesn't quite believe her. “Maybe we can retrace your steps and find it,” she offers.

“Well,” Joy begins. “I, um, I ended up by the lake. Near that little waterfall,” she says. “Past the footbridge. You know, not far from where the path leads up to the Red Cliffs.” She speaks slowly, hesitantly. What happened last night—with Ryder. It was
magic. It was surreal. It was something she's not sure how to describe, even to her friends.

“Doug Ryder and I . . . we . . .” And somehow, she manages to tell it all—well,
almost
all, leaving out just a few details to savor for herself. Their reactions—squeals, giggles, and exclamations of shock and awe—make her glad she told . . . despite the fact that subjects such as
did they use a condom
(obviously), and
was it everything she expected
(impossible to answer), are up at the top of the list of Most Mortifying Things to Talk About Even with Close Friends.

Tali pounds her on the back approvingly, and Joy sways slightly, a hint of her former light-headedness returning.

A look of concern flashes across Luce's face. “We should really hunt for that tiara, but first, I think we need to get you something to eat.”

“I'm on it,” Zoe says, seeming relieved to have a reason to back away for a moment. She disappears toward the glow of the giant tent, and only minutes later returns with a big stick of cotton candy, handing it to Joy as though offering a queen her staff.

“The sugar will help you feel less dizzy,” Luce says with an approving nod.

The tuft of swirled pink, larger at the top and tapering in toward the rolled paper stick, reminds Joy oddly of the clouds she watched with Doug Ryder when they lay back against the dusty rocks at the top of Red Cliffs, only two days ago. She takes a bite, and its sweet stickiness fills her mouth: the flavor of happiness, childhood. It dissolves on her tongue, leaving a vague graininess
until there's no mass left, just the taste of color itself, of vivid red . . . her mouth empty, her whole body high on memory.

They were wrong. She doesn't feel less dizzy. The memories take her over: Upturned board games and wild disputes over who won. Racing through the spray of sprinklers on the Great Lawn. Sharing candy in the Stevens. Like flashcards, they race through her mind. Tali, swiveling backward from her chair in French class to face Joy, who sat behind her for all of sixth grade, instructing her to always smile, no matter what happens
. Souris toujours
. Luce holding her hand, telling her to be brave when she was too scared to dive into the lake during swim lessons the summer before second grade. Zoe daring her to climb the big maple in her yard. The view from the tree, dappled in leafy shadow. All that cheesy crap from the past floods her head in a millisecond as the pink sugar melts and fades and disappears, leaving a subtle stain on her palms and lips.

Life is like cotton candy,
she concludes. But she can't say it aloud, or they will think she is crazy.

“Guys,” she announces instead. “I just realized something.”

They turn their focus on her and she is once again their center, their gravity. They need her. And for one last time, that's all
she
needs.

“That time capsule I wanted to bury?”

They nod, Tali raising an eyebrow, Zoe tilting her head, and Luce crossing her arms tentatively.

“What a dumb idea,” she blurts, surprised by the words.

“What are you talking about?” Luce asks, her face looking
just like it did the time Zoe dared her to eat a worm during the summer they were Bunk Foxes.

“It doesn't matter if kids of the future find our pictures and souvenirs,” Joy explains. “That's
our
stuff. Those are
our
memories. Like . . . whoever comes after us? They'll make their own memories. They don't want to find
our
old crap. You know what I mean?”

“Uh-huh,” Zoe responds. “Now gimme a bite of that.” She grabs the stick of remaining cotton candy from Joy's hand.

Suddenly they're all fighting over the cotton candy and laughing. Tali suggests they go for a dive to find the lost tiara, and everyone agrees, so they start running, fully clothed, up the path to the tire swing, the cotton candy long forgotten, its pink fluff rolling in the mud in their wake.

Joy is running with her three best friends in the whole world, and it doesn't matter that they are heading back into the past and the future all at once, that if they retrieve the tiara they'll be that much closer to re-creating the photo and, possibly, going home. Nothing matters except now, and now, and now. Branches scratching their arms. Laughter stinging through the air. The lake whispering and waiting with open arms, an unreadable but welcoming pool of darkness.

Joy doesn't hesitate this time. Not like when she came up here by herself on the first night back in the past. When they reach the summit where the tire swing dangles listlessly, they don't even bother to stop. Tali, with her long legs, reaches the ledge first, and turns back to look at the others, pausing for only a moment.
Zoe arrives next and sticks her hand out to grab Joy's. Luce takes her other hand, and Tali's, and then they are linked.

A collective inhale.

A slight breeze ripples across the lake's hungry surface.

In unison, they leap.

Eight limbs flailing. Four bodies falling. The black iris of the lake staring up at them as they fly toward it, into its center.

The air wraps around Joy, whooshing in her ears, and time really does stop—or at least, it pauses—and she can see everything clearly: the mountains a deep charcoal smudge beneath the night clouds, the water inky and opaque below. The sky screams all around her, inside her.
I get it now,
she thinks, letting her fear wash through her and soar away on the wind, as she gives in, allowing herself to fall. Because it's all you can do. Let go. Fall.

Fly.

The impact is sharper and harsher than she expected: a slap against her skin—from her shoulders down the backs of her legs. It stings so much it distracts her from the cold.

Under the water, she flings her eyes open. As she surges toward the shoreline underneath the surface, she sees it: a distant glimmer. It has gotten dark out—it must be after eight o'clock—but the moon is huge and round and yellow, probing the water like a searchlight. The light bounces off the slimy, mossy, underwater rocks, illuminating something tinny and silver . . . the tiara. Unbelievably, it is still here, not too far from the mini waterfall.

Instinct takes over and Joy kicks at the fake silver crown, sending it tumbling deeper. She is running out of breath and needs
to break the surface. Just as she begins thrusting herself upward, she sees a pair of golden arms and legs and a trail of long blond hair like pale seaweed flashing past her under the water, heading straight for the tiara. It's Zoe. Joy has no choice but to continue her journey up to the surface.

Funny how in just an instant your future can change.

Joy bursts into the air, gasping, her mind raging.
No no no.

But it has happened. She can already see Zoe emerging nearby, holding the Miss Okahatchee crown in her fist triumphantly.