Proof of Forever (23 page)

“Got it!” Zoe cries.

Tali and Luce's heads pop up not too far away, like curious seals.

“Hallelujah!” That's Luce, bouncing up and down excitedly.

“We've got all the pieces!” Zoe shouts. “This is
it
!”

“Nice work, Zo!” Tali calls out, her strong arms pulling her forward through the water.

They all gather around, slapping one another high fives in the shallow area where not more than twenty-four hours ago, Joy and Ryder were kissing, touching each other, groping in the starlight.

Joy shakes her head now, willing away the images—and the tingles they bring to her whole body. “And so we do,” she says.

Now they are all solemn and frozen, like they've stumbled through the back door of a church in the middle of service.

“Is it time, then?” Luce says quietly, tiny droplets catching the moonlight on her shoulders, making them glow, even while her face is hidden in shadow.

Joy breathes in the smell of the lake for one last time—heady and minerally and full of the magic of the past, a thing she didn't realize existed, but she's sure of it now. The past
does
have a magic to it. You don't know it while you're living through it, but it's there, hovering around you and nudging you gently forward with its own mysterious will. There is no other way to explain the high Joy's experiencing right now, just from a scent, just from a moment.

She doesn't want to go, doesn't want to give in to the forward nudge—especially not with her three oldest and best friends together again, all gathered around looking at her with so much openness.

But they are ready. Which means
she
must be ready. All they're waiting for is her command.

“It's time,” she says.

“Life can only be understood backwards;

but it must be lived forwards.”

—Søren Kierkegaard

Hair. If there is one thing that keeps Tali obsessed day and night, rain or shine, pre-storm and post-storm, that's it. Will it behave? Will it lie flat? Will anyone notice its peculiar antigravitational tendencies? Cool girls are supposed to have smooth hair, sleek yet pliant, like their personalities. Which is exactly why she is shocked to realize it has been a full forty-eight hours since her last attempt to tame her locks. The seventy-dollar anti-curl serum she once thought she could not live without lies on its side with the cap only half-closed, crusting at the edge, when she reaches into her cubby for a hair dryer.

Hair was only one of several topics of debate as the girls rushed back to Bunk Blue Heron from the lake that night in a whirl, passing by the glitter and music of the already-in-full-swing reunion night carnival, the tents glistening with raindrops, but the clouds now fully lifted and gone. Specifically, did it matter that their hair was wet but had been dry in the photo they
are about to re-create? Other topics of debate included what the exact outfits they had worn that night consisted of, whether any of this was actually going to work in the first place, and whether they would get caught or stopped somehow before they had the chance to find out.

But here's the thing: life doesn't always hand you the answers. Sometimes the best you can do is make a decision and stick to it. Tali's dad always says that the best business decisions rely on intuition, after all. There isn't always a right move, just a move that
feels
right.

Then again, her dad is under investigation for fraud. So who knows if his advice will hold up. Tali, for one, is less than certain.

And thus it is with frantic energy and frayed nerves that the girls dry and style their hair and get dressed. The gentle wailing of Hadley's horn only adds to the manic feeling in the close quarters, but to Tali the familiarity of the music comes as a relief. . . . In fact, knowing it may be the last time she hears Hadley Gross play the French horn actually fills her with a surge of emotion, and she could practically kiss her—even if what Rebecca said is true, and
Hadley
was the one who was hooking up with Blake all summer.

As she buttons her jeans and steps into her trusty gladiator sandals, Tali notices Brianna Bradley—who has always made a tradition of skipping the carnival—observing them with arms folded across her chest, clearly wondering when reunion night became such a big deal, her eyes narrowed as if to say
Which one of you is getting laid, and what am I missing?

You'll never guess,
Tali thinks smugly.
We are heading forward in
time. We're emissaries from the future. You didn't know?

Finally they are ready. Or as ready as they will ever be. Zoe's newly won fencing medal hangs from her neck. She and Zoe still haven't exactly
reconciled
after their fight, but Zoe seems oddly subdued—not her usual chatty self. Tali feels somehow scared to apologize, like the wounds are still too fresh, like she'll somehow make it worse.

Meanwhile, Joy is wearing her lucky green cardigan, the Miss Okahatchee tiara, and an expression of complete uncertainty in her eyes, which briefly unnerves Tali. And Luce has on her favorite floral romper, which is both weirdly childish and, at the same time, fitting, with her badge pinned to the breast pocket. They look pretty much exactly as they did in that original photo strip, from what they all mutually recall.

Tali sucks in a breath as she glances around the cabin for one last (hopefully) time. Positioned cross-legged on her bottom bunk, Hadley raises an eyebrow at her but keeps playing. Mildewy towels litter the floor, scenting the air, but not enough to disguise Jade Marino's cigarette smoke. In a corner, Paige is bent over a stack of a few mislabeled Feddies, sorting through the leftover packages like Santa's little helper on Christmas Eve. Other than that, the cabin is empty, most of the Blue Herons having left to enjoy the festivities at least an hour ago.

“Come on, girls, it's now or never,” Joy says.

Tali tries to release the tension in her shoulders as she follows her old friends toward the door, tucking the Batman boxer flag into her side so as not to draw suspicion. But a part of her is filled
with sadness. She feels upturned, emptied, all the stardust of the past flying out of her pockets and away on the breeze.

She wonders if the other campers, along with the alums who have begun to show up for the festivities, can sense their nervousness as the four of them hurry through the crowd on the Great Lawn. She finds herself scanning everyone she passes and realizes she's searching for Shane. He must have left the campgrounds by now, though, and the thought sends a stab of regret through her. She can't stop picturing his hands, his kisses, his kind eyes, his laugh. Their amazing conversation. How well they seemed to fit together despite the initial surprise of it—not that it was really surprising at all, come to think of it. The most surprising part was how utterly idiotic Tali had been up to that point. Her heart rate picks up, thinking about how furious he was when he stormed out of the cabin. She's
still
an idiot.

Zoe taps on Tali's shoulder, snapping her out of her memories and pulling her back from the other two girls. “Tal,” she says with urgency in her voice. “I just want to say sorry, for, you know, what happened at the party. Everyone thinks I . . . well, that Blake and I—” Zoe's face turns beet red.

Tali swallows. She can see how sorry Zoe is from the pinched expression on her face. It makes Tali feel pinched, too, somewhere deep inside. “Whatever happened, it doesn't matter to me anymore.” She means it. She just hopes Zoe
knows
she means it.

“But really,” Zoe insists. “It matters to
me
. I wanted you to know that's not what happened. And I shouldn't have called you self-absorbed.”

Tali looks at Zoe and can't help herself. She laughs. “Zo, I
am
a little
self-absorbed. At least, I know that I have been recently. And I want to fix that. I want to be better . . . be a better . . .” For some reason the word stops on her tongue.

But it's as though Zoe can read her mind. She nods, her eyes brimming with tears. “I want to be a better friend, too.”

Tali's throat starts to close up, but she's not going to cry, not when there's so much at stake for this photo. “So what
did
happen that night, anyway?” she asks.

Zoe's face blanches and she swallows. “It was just a coincidence that Blake showed up when he did. I wasn't making out with him, I was
making out with . . . someone else.”

“Who?” Tali feels a bullet of excitement—the old kind they used to have when sharing secrets.

Zoe gulps. “Blake's sister.” She looks like she can't believe she just said it.

There's a pause where Tali's brain has to catch up—she's not sure she heard her correctly. And then, in an instant, it all clicks into place. This is Zoe, moving forward. Getting unstuck. “I don't blame you,” she blurts. And she means that, too.

Zoe startles, her face a cross between shocked and amused.

Tali shrugs. “I mean, the girl is smokin'.”

Without warning, Zoe flings her arms around Tali, wrapping her in a hug. The relief of Zoe's confession radiates out from her, and Tali squeezes her back, feeling closer to her than she has in a long time. Maybe closer to her than she's
ever
felt. It's clear this wasn't about a single hookup. It was about Zoe, figuring herself
out. Maybe Tali wasn't the only blind one.

She wonders if there's a chance they can start over, form a
real
friendship again. Maybe not one involving riding on each other's bicycle handlebars, but something else . . . something new.

Before she can say more, Luce lets out a huge huff, pointing to a long line of people waiting before them at the photo booth.

Tali steps forward. “Excuse me, kiddos, but we're Bunk Blue Heron and it's our last night here so we really need to exercise our line-skipping privileges.” When the two eleven-year-old girls in front of her—wearing matching BFF necklaces—look at her funny, Tali rolls her eyes and gives them a nudge, and they begrudgingly shuffle out of the way, letting Tali, Luce, Joy, and Zoe through to the front.

“Nice one,” Zoe says, giving Tali an approving smile.

“Thanks,” Tali says, smiling back at her, and knowing, without knowing how, that they're going to be okay—that some things are going to be different now, including them.

Once they are inside the photo booth, the thick curtains muffle the sounds of the carnival. The girls are, again, practically piled on top of one another, and there's a mad shuffle to try to get into the exact positions they had in the old photo. Luce is convinced she was sitting on Zoe's left, but Zoe swears Luce was standing, hovering over her from the other side.

“I know I'm right because I had my left arm around Joy,” Zoe insists.

“Fine,” Luce says breathlessly, once again scooting around to rearrange herself.

“Guys, are we ready? Guys!” Tali says, having to shout just a little for them to pay attention. Sweat lines her palm from gripping Blake's boxers so hard, and in her other hand, she fumbles for the camera remote.

“Hit it,” Zoe says.

And so she does. Tali presses the big green button on the remote, and they see the camera light up, then do its 3-2-1 countdown. Then there's a loud snap and a giant, blinding flash.

And then . . .

Nothing. Tali instantly feels for her boobs—the surest sign of what time period they're in—and comes up A-cup only.

Joy grabs at her hair—still long. “It didn't work,” she says.

“Hurry up in there, we're waiting!” someone calls from outside, ruffling the curtain.

Zoe lashes out, punching through the curtain. “Back off!” she calls. “We need a minute!”

“Why isn't it working?” Tali asks, her head feeling hot. The photo booth is tiny and smells like her grandmother's attic in the summer.

Luce whines, “We have all the elements together, don't we? What's missing?”

“Just let me think!” Zoe bursts out. “Let's reverse our positioning. Tali, come to the other side. Yeah, exactly. And Luce, you stay there, but Joy, move around her. Good. Okay, let's try again.”

No one voices the obvious: that this whole entire plan might have been a dud. It's what they've all been thinking and
wondering about, she knows, all week. But somehow, it seems too weighty, too horrifying a concept to fully consider. That the photo booth might not work. That they could be . . . stuck.

Instead, they do as Zoe said. They shuffle back into place in the opposite arrangement and Tali once again clicks the remote.

FLASH.

Pause.

Nothing.

“Oh, come
on
!” Luce cries, clearly on the verge of panic.

“It's okay,” Zoe says, her voice wavering. “We'll figure this out.” She sounds anything but certain.

Tali's mind is racing. All this time, she's held the fear at bay, the looming, obvious question as to what might happen if this didn't work, if they really stayed stuck in the past. She knows she would still have two more years of high school to relive. She'd have to start all over with Ashlynn and the popular kids—she'd have to decide if that's what she even wants.

She wipes sweat off the back of her neck and tries to stay calm.

“Maybe we need to force the fuse to blow somehow?” Tali suggests.

“I would really rather not get electrocuted if we can avoid it,” Luce says.

She looks around at the others. “Any better ideas?”

Joy stands up in front of the camera and pushes Tali into a seated position next to the other girls on the tiny bench. “Okay, everyone sit still for a second,” she announces.

Immediately, Tali finds herself focusing on Joy. She notices
that the other girls do the same. They sit there, awaiting further instructions.

Joy clears her throat. “Maybe we just haven't given our pasts a proper good-bye. Everyone take a minute to think about what you'll miss.”

“But—” Zoe begins.

“Just do it!” Luce says, nudging her.

Zoe grumbles but falls silent, closing her eyes.

At first, Tali feels restless inside the tiny, cramped space, coated in years of graffiti. But then she starts to think about everything that has happened these past few days—the fight and reconciliation with Zoe over Blake. The fight with Luce over Shane. Shane.

What if when they get back to the present, all that has disappeared again? How will she know what sticks and what fades? Will Joy be gone from their lives again? What about Luce and Zoe?

She can't even remember how she managed to get through the last two years without them.

Her eyes fling open in a panic. Maybe this is all a mistake. Maybe they should stay. She's not sure what to do—if she should bring up her doubts—but the other three girls still have their eyes closed, so she begins scanning the graffiti on the walls around them. She feels tears welling up behind her eyes as she reads:

Sammy & Gina, '12
.

Dave is da bad ass.
Crossed out to say:
Dave is an ass zit.

Eat me.

Long live the Cruz.

For a good time call Emily Fargo.

Indigo Perez is a ho
.

And that's when Tali realizes one piece of graffiti is missing.

“Luce,” she says, nudging her shoulder. “Luce! Do you have a pen?”

Luce opens her eyes and searches her bag.
Of course
she has a pen. She doesn't travel without one. She hands it to Tali, and Tali stands up, leaning over Joy's shoulder.

On the wall behind Joy, she scrawls:
Z, J, T & L, friends forever.

Joy looks at what Tali has written and smiles slowly. “Forever” is all she says.