Proof of Forever (6 page)

“Zo—” Tali calls out, but it's too late. Zoe has disappeared into the crowd.

“I'll check in on her later,” Joy says, shifting her weight. “Come on, let's go find your boy.” She loops an arm through Tali's, and Tali feels a tad better.

As they approach Blake's side of the bonfire, they almost run straight into Jeremy Farber, biggest contender for the Douchiest Counselor of the Year Award. Luce gasps, backing up, and Joy giggles, hiding her Dixie cup behind her back.

Fortunately, he doesn't see them, since he's lost in conversation with the head of Bunk Otter, Suzanne Simonson. Tali boldly takes a sip from one of the cups she's holding. The vodka stings her lips and burns a trail from her throat to her stomach, then settles, warming her from the inside.

They dodge through the cluster of fourteen-year-old boys currently pegging one another with balled-up bits of tinfoil, and
all of a sudden, Tali's heart is in her throat and she feels like she can't swallow. Blake is only three feet away. She's way past the Safety Point . . . stunned by how hot he is up close. It has been two full years since she has seen him in person.

He and a couple of his friends, including Jacob, are sing-shouting something indiscernible in a half huddle. They erupt in laughter. That's when Blake's blue eyes catch hers. Time seems to slow as recognition registers, and then the unthinkable happens. He winks at her. She offers a tiny smile in response, moving toward him and causing Joy's arm to unwind from hers. Then she lowers her shoulder just enough so that her bra strap slips down.

“Hey!” he says, throwing an arm around her as they approach, causing her to lose a little more vodka from both her cups. “It's the hot gymnast!” He says it sort of to her and sort of to his friends, as though making an announcement. Heat rushes through Tali's ears and down her body.

Joy and Luce exchange quick looks of skepticism, which Tali tries to ignore. A moment ago, she was relieved to have her old friends beside her. Now, she kind of wishes she'd come alone, instead of having them stand so close to her, like petite bodyguards.

Still, she laughs, giving a friendly nod to Jacob, Soffi, Sam, and the other people she doesn't remember as well. “I'm not a gymnast
anymore
,” she qualifies, “but I can still do splits.”

“Hear, hear!” Jacob says, holding up a cup to toast with. “To the splits.”

Tali lifts one of her cups, too, and that's when she sees it: that
signature, fried-blond bob, weaving its way toward them. The girl is wearing an all-pink outfit—
all pink
. How could Tali have forgotten?

Rebecca Ross. Bunk Wolf. Tennis prodigy, just like Blake. Adorable, aggressive, annoying . . . and Tali's biggest roadblock for Blake's affection.

As far as Tali knows, Blake has never been
that
interested in Rebecca. They were never actually together, at least not officially. But she was always
hanging around. Tali is flooded with memories: Rebecca swishing over to him in her tiny tennis skirt, Rebecca taking Blake's arm and begging him to dance with her at the Midsummer Formal, Rebecca in her tiny bikini, trying to capsize Blake's boat during sailing lessons.

Tali takes a deep breath. Things will be different this time around.
She
will be different.

Rebecca stops on her opposite side, facing Blake and practically trampling Luce. Tali can't help but notice that she's poking out her ample chest. She puts her hand on Blake's bicep. “There you are! I couldn't
fiiind
you before,” she says to Blake in a whiny voice, wearing the most irritatingly cute pout Tali has ever seen. “Have you been holding
out
on me?”

“'Course not, Bex,” he says amiably. “I saved a cup just for you,” he says, handing her a half-full Dixie cup.

Before she can lose her nerve, Tali turns, inhaling the musky, heavy scent of Rebecca's floral perfume. “Hey,
Bex
,” she says. It's the first time she has ever directly addressed Rebecca in her life.

Rebecca tilts her head. “Hey, what's up?” Now her voice
sounds normal—apparently she saves the simple syrup for the boys.

The lies come fluidly, easily: “I just saw Cherry Brentworth. I think she was looking for you? Over there by the main office?”

Rebecca rolls her eyes and turns back to Blake. “Looks like I have to go babysit a friend. Wanna come?”

Before Tali can even protest, Blake's hand is in Rebecca's and she's yanking him away from his friends, away from Tali and Joy and Luce . . . away from the glowing circle of fire.

Just like that, Tali is a nobody again—no, the ghost of a nobody—hovering in the darkness, just on the brink of everything she wants. The heat is overwhelming now, the smoke choking.

“What a ho,” Luce announces.

Joy looks at Tali, her eyes both searching and a little sad.

Tali cannot stand that look. “I . . . I gotta go,” she says, then promptly turns and weaves through the clamoring, shouting crowd, toward the quiet sanctuary of the line of trees in the distance, not bothering to stop when vodka sloshes all over her hands.

At the edge of the woods, she stops and throws back what remains of her vodka. She cringes. It tastes like nail polish remover and hair balm, but after a few seconds she feels calmer, steadier, more like her old (new?) self. The alcohol isn't enough to make her drunk or even dizzy. All it does is make her feel smooth, as though she's gliding over the surface of the earth like an air-hockey puck.

She was never supposed to feel this way again: what it's like to be plain. What it's like to be invisible.

She doesn't remember walking back to the bunk. The lit-up cabin leaves a halo on the matted grass surrounding the screened-in walls, and the air is filled with a low hum she can't quite pinpoint. She blinks rapidly, trying to remember which Tali she is—modern Tali or past?—and steps through the doorway, where the unidentifiable hum gets louder. It's Hadley Gross, blaring into her French horn, her black hair snaking behind her in a long, fat braid.

Why Hadley feels the need to practice just before curfew, in their bunk, Tali will never understand. She's good, as far as Tali can tell, but there's something almost obscene about the way her thick lips press up against the lip of the horn, the way the big brass instrument wraps itself into her lap, the way her face gets so red as she blows into it.

Tali glances around but notices with some relief that Zoe is not in the cabin. She must be making good on her vow to practice.

Suddenly there's a gloating face right in front of her: Paige McAlister, who has been passing around camp mail. “No letters,” Paige tells her. Paige reeks of a cheap, vanilla-scented body spray. “But you've got a Feddy.” Paige holds out a small box.

“Thanks,” Tali says, her spirits lifting. Everyone loves a Feddy. Maybe her mom has sent her something good, like Italian truffles or nice Swiss face wash.

She takes her box and heads out the back door of the cabin,
sitting down on the back porch to open it. As she's tearing open the cardboard, she hears Joy's voice, quiet, in the distance. She looks up. Joy is crossing back toward the cabin alone, her cell phone pressed to her ear. She must have left Luce at the bonfire, probably with Andrew.

Tali considers offering an apology for ditching them, but Joy pauses, turning around in the darkness near the trees, cupping the phone close to her face. Tali stops ripping at the cardboard so that she can faintly make out Joy's end of the conversation.

“No, I . . . I'm not leaving early. We only have a few days left. I
want
to stay.” Joy's voice is hushed but urgent.

Tali sits there, puzzled. She's startled when only a moment later, Joy is beside her, the phone stuffed into her back pocket.

“Hey,” Tali says. “What's up? What was that about?”

Joy turns to her, and the usual warmth in her eyes—that ability to make you feel like you're the only person in her world at that very moment—is gone, replaced by something else. Something that startles Tali and even scares her a little. Something animal. She wants to call it
anger
. Without thinking, Tali backs away slightly.

But just as quickly, Joy's expression changes in a single blink. “Nothing,” she says.

Tali pauses as a creeping sensation worms through her:
She's lying
.

What's going on? She wants to call Joy out on it, but something stops her. What did Tali miss that last summer at camp? What changed? Joy obviously has some sort of secret, and Tali
senses it's connected to why she disappeared at the end of this summer, leaving not just their school but all of her friendships behind.

She clears her throat. “Well . . . if you want to talk about it, I'm around,” she says, though the words feel like lead—more lies. She and Joy haven't talked,
really
talked, in two years. Why would they do so now?

“Thanks,” Joy says, her voice rough. She tosses her side braid over her shoulder and heads inside.

Tali sits there on the porch for another minute or two, trying to process. Around her, the night air chatters and gossips, full of leaves rustling and insects mating and campers' voices carrying over the wind. Finally, she returns to opening her Feddy.

Inside the box is a Steiff teddy bear and a note from her dad.
For your collection, sweetie. We miss you. Hope you're soaking in those final camp days.
Her stomach tightens.

The note goes on, asking about the end-of-summer relays—he remembered her story about tripping on a Hula-Hoop last year—and how her friends are doing and saying he can't wait to see her when he gets home from their trip, just in time to pick her up from her last day of camp. But Tali's eyes have glazed over, her conversation with her mom once again returning to haunt her.

Your father's company is under investigation.

No.

Your
father
is under investigation
. Her mother's voice had wavered, like she'd been crying.

Tali pulls out her cell phone and heads for the Dumpsters
behind the counselors' lounge, remembering that there's a spot over there where she can usually get better reception—and privacy. She wants to call her mom back and make it all go away. She wants to call her dad and demand an explanation. But how can she? Whatever her father did, it won't really happen until two years from now. So what is she supposed to say?

Instead, she tries to dial Ashlynn but realizes she doesn't have her number in her phone. Right. Of course. Because they aren't even friends yet . . . and won't be until junior year, after Joy moves away, after Luce becomes busy, after Zoe becomes a band groupie and starts looking at Tali like she's some kind of fraud every time she so much as dares to sit with the popular kids.

As she paces the periphery of the counselor cabins, Tali's chest aches more and more. What's so wrong with her that she has no one during what's turning out to be the scariest moment in her entire life?

Everything her dad worked so hard for, traveled so far for, stayed out so late on weeknights for, will vanish. So what was it all for, really? Shouldn't he have known better? Doesn't he know most people don't get a second chance?

She can't keep her father's gift. She won't repeat the past—not when she knows it's going to lead to such a horrible future. Not when she knows now that it's founded on a bunch of lies.

She lifts the heavy lid on one of the Dumpsters behind the lounge cabin and drops the box, letter, and teddy bear into it. Then she lets the Dumpster clang shut with a metallic bang.

She feels the faintest hint of tears on her cheeks as she jogs
back around the dark side of the counselor cabins, only to run directly into someone.

“Whoa, whoa. You okay?” says a boy's voice. Her eyes have begun to get used to the darkness, and she sees a boy's bare chest and a whistle glinting around his neck. Standing this close to him, she can smell the strong, familiar scent of super-high-SPF sunscreen, coming off his whole body in waves. A lifeguard, obviously.

“Fine,” she mumbles. She starts to dodge him, but he stops her, placing a warm hand on her arm.

“What are you doing out here so late?” he asks.

Tali is about to respond that it's none of his business, but when he turns slightly she can make out the planes and angles of his face. He's taller than her and the moon is behind him so at first she's convinced she has it wrong. . . .

She must be gaping, because he crinkles his brow and says, “What?”

“You're . . . you're Tow Boy!” Tali blurts out, connecting the dots. No wonder he'd recognized her, if vaguely.

“Excuse me?” the boy says, looking even more confused.

“You work for the local tow company. You know, cars, accidents, popped tires? Right?”

The boy shakes his head, but now she's
sure
it's the same guy who picked her up the night of the reunion. He's got to be only a couple of years older than her. Eighteen or nineteen, max. “I have no idea what you're talking about,” he says, and she realizes of course he doesn't because they're in the past. “This is my first
summer at Okahatchee. Look, you should be in your bunk. I could give you a demerit for being out after curfew.”

Tali's surprise turns rapidly into annoyance. “First of all, only counselors give out demerits. Not
lifeguards
.
Secondly
, I had to take care of something important, which is too much to explain—”

“What, you had to throw away a teddy bear?” He grins, one of his eyebrows slightly perking up, like he's trying not to laugh at her.

Tali feels a flush of heat across her face and is grateful for the darkness—hopefully he can't tell. “Were you following me or something?”

“I was on my way back to my cabin when I saw you racing by with a teddy bear in your hand. I feel sorry for whoever sent it.” In the dark, it's hard to make out his expression. “What did he do to piss you off?”