Proof of Forever (24 page)

“Forever,” Luce and Zoe echo. Zoe finds Tali's hand and squeezes it, and Tali feels her heart squeeze, too, as though in response.

Joy sits down next to them, takes the remote from Tali's other hand, and hits the green button. At the last second, Tali holds the boxers high in the air, like she's giving a final wave to her past, to her crush on Blake, to her botched romance with Shane, to
all
of it.

Blackness. A soft humming fills her ears, like distant buzzing bees. The whole photo booth is rattling slightly and there's a slim line of smoke snaking up out of the camera. The girls have leaped up with a collective gasp, and now they push through the thick curtains in a jumble. Tali inhales deeply, letting the night air fill her chest.

Her ample, perky, C-cup chest.

She lets out her breath in a huge half laugh, half sigh as she looks around at the faces of her three friends. They are all wearing mixed looks of shock and relief. Gone are Joy's tiara and Luce's badge and Zoe's medal. Their faces each look somehow more sharply chiseled, less blurry and more real than they have since they stepped into the booth in the first place—in the
very
first place. But Joy's most of all—gaunt, almost harshly so, its angles accented by her pixie cut.

“Adorable!” someone booms from behind them. Tali swivels around to see the Cruz holding a strip of four photos that have spit out of the machine. “This will be perfect for the memory wall. Come along to the rec hall so you can sign your names!” She walks off with the pictures, and just like that, the bubble pops and reality sinks in.

It's the present. It's reunion night. Tali's whole purpose in coming here was to get with Blake, but now . . . that seems like a lifetime ago. She snorts and shakes her head just thinking about it.

They follow numbly behind Bernadette Cruz's austere form, and Tali squints as they enter the brightly lit rec hall. She takes in its familiar scent of glue and citronella, watching the Cruz pin up the photo of the girls—the modern photo, not the one from the past. In it, Joy's cropped hair makes her face seem like it's glowing from within. Luce is staring at Joy and not the camera. Zoe is shifting her shirt as though uncomfortable in it, and Tali is checking her iPhone. They look, once again, like four
girls long estranged, not close friends. A chill washes over her, and the sounds of other campers and alums talking and laughing and squealing across the room at one another seems muffled and muted. Was any part of the last five days real, or did she just imagine it all?

And what will happen now? They all promised they would stay friends forever. But Tali knows what happens to most promises. And forever is a long time.

Andrew has entered the rec hall and calls Luce over to him. Joy looks a little nauseated, so Zoe walks her over to the corner of the room where there are chairs set up and goes to get her a glass of water. But Tali can't bring herself to move. Staring at the picture on the wall, she feels loneliness and confusion writhing in the pit of her stomach.

She came to reunion night with a simple mission—hook up with Blake. Instead, it's like she tumbled backward down a well, finding herself surrounded by memories: some beautiful, some funny, some painful. She didn't expect to feel this way. She didn't expect to miss her old friends and her old self so powerfully that she was somehow transported back in time. If it even
was
real. And even stranger than all of that is the sense, somewhere in the dark corners of her mind, that she's missing something—that some puzzle piece still hasn't fallen into place.

She turns away from the photo strip at last, looking around the room. She sees alumni and current campers alike traipsing in and out, patting one another's backs, hugging, laughing, catching up. And then, through the throng of people, she sees a familiar
baseball cap. He turns so she can see his profile, and she knows instantly that it's Shane.

The heat of mortification creeps up her face. She can't believe she didn't even remember him in the truck earlier—he'd looked familiar, but she'd written it off, when he
obviously
remembered her. She'd been such a dismissive bitch toward him.
Don't I know you?
he'd said. And she'd blown him off. Oblivious.

She isn't about to let that happen again. Steeling herself, she pushes her way through the pack toward him, then takes a breath before tapping him on the shoulder.

He swings around to face her, and he's even more handsome than she remembered. Rugged-looking, with faint stubble lining his jaw, making it look more square. He is strong but lean, like he has grown out of his bulk. He's wearing a faded blue baseball hat, turned backward, accenting his clear green eyes. He has on a grease-stained T-shirt and ratty jeans and smells like car oil. . . .

For a second his eyes light up and she thinks he's about to smile at her, but the smile quickly fades and he takes a step back.

“Wait,” she says urgently, touching his arm, even though he's not going anywhere. He looks down at her hand, and she instantly lets go. “Please. Let me say something. . . . Let me apologize.”

Shane has a curious look on his face.

“For earlier,” she stumbles on. “For not remembering you. I'm an idiot. I don't know how I failed to see it sooner. I don't know how you've
ever
put up with me, Shane, I really don't.” She wants to go on, but she doesn't know what she's even saying. She
doesn't know what actually
happened
—what's memory, what's dream.

“So you
do
know my name,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “You know, from the way you acted earlier, in my truck, I almost thought I had it wrong. You couldn't have been the same girl I recalled from camp two summers ago. But then when you had me drop you off so close to Okahatchee, I figured it had to be you. . . . I just hadn't realized how much you would have changed. I mean”—his face flushes—“not that we really knew each other. I just . . . had a different impression of you from afar is all, but . . . well, never mind.”

She fumbles. It's like their new version of the past never happened—at least not for him. He knows who she is, but only as some random camper. “A lot's happened in the last two years . . . ,” she starts. “And . . . I really
wasn't
myself earlier tonight.” And that's when it occurs to her that she's right: that Tali from earlier
wasn't
her.
This
Tali—the one surrounded by friends, with Shane by her side—this is the real her.

He just doesn't know it yet.

“Well, I'm not gonna lie,” Shane says, “I was weirded out by the whole thing. I realize we never really talked that summer—and it was my only summer working there. But I went home and couldn't stop thinking about it, which is why I decided to come to reunion. I had to see for myself. I figured if my hunch was right, I could give this back to you.” He digs into his jeans pocket, blushing again. “I've had it for two whole years and I thought you should have it back. It looked valuable. You left
it on the dock during swim session that last week of camp. I didn't know how to get in touch with you, otherwise I would have. . . .” He extracts a gold strand—a necklace. As he pulls it out, a pendant swings on the end of it—a tiny Taurus symbol. It's the necklace that Tali always used to wear when she was younger. The one her father bought her, to remind her that she was just like a stubborn bull, and he loved that about her. The one that she lost the night that she and Shane . . .

Wait a second
.

“You found it . . . on the dock?” she asks. Tali's face is so hot at this point, she's sure steam must be rising from her skin.
Did any of it happen?
What about the part where she got him fired . . . the part where he hated her and stormed off, never wanting to see her again?

He takes her right hand and positions it palm up, then places the necklace there, folding her fingers around it. “Here,” he says, biting his lip slightly.

He starts to back up, but she grabs his arm, forcing him to stay. The feeling she had in her dream, or her past, whatever it was, when she flew off her stolen bike in a neon-green lacy thong and bra, throwing herself into the lake, comes back to her now. Wild. Free. Like nothing anyone else thinks matters—it's just her, and the world lying before her, open to any possibility. Including this one.

“Shane,” she says, her words coming out breathy and urgent.

“Yeah?” he says, adjusting his hat with his free hand.

“I have something for you as well.”

“Oh, you don't . . . I mean, that's okay, I don't need—”

“Just . . . shut
up
for a second, will you?” She tries to make her eyes look stern.

He puts his hands up in a sign of surrender.

Now another memory comes over her—the sensation of being thrown overboard on Casino Night, crashing backward into the freezing cold waves, thrashing alone out there in the rough, dark water, and then feeling a strong pair of arms wrap around her, pulling her to safety.

She stands on her tiptoes, places her hands on Shane's broad shoulders, and kisses him.

She can tell he's startled at first, but then he wraps his arms around her and kisses her back, his lips warm and urgent and strong, his chin just slightly scratchy against hers.

She pulls away for a breath.

“What was that for?” he asks, searching her eyes. He looks truly startled.

“Saving my life, remember?” she replies, unable to stop the huge dorky grin from forming across her face.

His jaw drops slightly, and he continues to look confused. “I don't remember . . . I don't think . . . Are you sure . . . Wait, when did I save your life?”

For a second, Tali's disappointed. It wasn't real. It
seemed
real, but it couldn't have been—at least, not for him.

But then, she feels relieved. Because this means she can start over, from here, going forward. She can do everything differently from now on. Including this.

She smiles, feeling her face redden. “Just now,” she whispers.

He shakes his head. “You might be the most forward girl I've ever met.”

She laughs. “Are you okay with that?”

“Okay with it? If I'd known, I would have tried the necklace thing way sooner.” His grin takes over his whole face and all she wants to do is ask him about his four older sisters and whether he still listens to the Lost Tigers and whatever happened with his plans to transfer schools . . . but she's got to slow down. He doesn't know her yet.

She needs to earn his trust.

Because—even though she still can't believe it—none of what she just experienced really happened. And yet somehow, anyway, Shane, present-day Shane, is here, in her arms, real and solid. Not the guy she thought she wanted, but so obviously the guy she needed, car-oil stains and all—whether he knows it yet or not.

And she can't wait.

“How did you know?” he asks, looking into her eyes.

“Know . . . what?”

“That I, well, liked you. I thought I kept it pretty subtle that summer. But it was enough of a crush that I couldn't go back the next year. I don't know if I should even admit that. That's why I started up at the tow company instead. It's nowhere near as fun, but I couldn't go back to Okahatchee and risk anyone finding out I'd had a thing for one of the campers.”

So he quit. He didn't get fired because of her. He left for his
own reasons. He left because of
her
, but the situation was different. And she'd had no idea. Because she'd been blind. Because in the
real
past, she hadn't had a chance to open her eyes.

She's about to tell him more—about how she's changed—when a glass shatters on the other side of the room. A bunch of people quiet down and turn their heads, including Tali and Shane. Her heart thuds in her chest, as though the broken glass has awoken her too suddenly from a dream.

Then someone screams.

It's Luce. “Help!” she's screaming. “My friend is sick!”

Tali's heart stops. Joy has dropped her water glass and collapsed to the ground. Zoe is leaning over her now, shaking her shoulders. “Joy, wake up!” she shouts, as Tali tears across the room toward her friends.

By the time she pushes through the crowd and crouches down beside Joy and Zoe, Luce and Andrew have gathered as well. It's just like finding her in the woods, only worse somehow. She's breathing, faintly, but she's not waking up.

“Come on, Joy,” Luce says, urgency in her voice as she clutches Joy's shoulders.

Ryder emerges out of the crowd, kneeling beside them, shouting for someone to call an ambulance. Then the Cruz is there, speaking in staccato into a cell phone. Mr. Wilkinson materializes, too, talking rapidly, urgently, holding on to Bernadette Cruz by the elbow, like she might fall over. It all seems to happen so fast, Tali's not sure if she even remembers to breathe. The wailing siren echoing through the mountains. The red and blue
lights flashing through the rec hall window. The crowd parting to let Joy's parents through. Tali hasn't seen Joy's parents in a few years. Joan and Allen Freeman. Joan is crying. She, too, looks thinner and much older than Tali remembers, gray streaking her brown hair. Allen is talking in urgent commands to the EMTs as they lift Joy onto a stretcher. Tali catches only brief capsules of his words—
missed meds
,
stolen car, unsupervised, nurses were supposed to . . . 

Fear swirls through Tali's chest, spiraling up to her head, making her dizzy. “What are you
talking
about?” she hears herself say, though it sounds like the voice of a little girl. “What's wrong with her? What's wrong with Joy?” Now her voice is getting more high-pitched. Hysterical. “What's happening to her?”