Free Proof of Forever by Lexa Hillyer

over to pick up a noodle from Zoe’s plate.
    Zoe’s face gets serious, and she puts up her hand to stop Joy, then leans in closer. “Wait. We should be more careful. Remember? We don’t want to do anything out of the ordinary. What if we accidentally caused a food fight or something?”
    Tali looks at her skeptically. “Aren’t we basically doomed to screw up?” She stabs a meatball. “There’s no way we can perfectly replicate everything we did two years ago. I can’t even
remember
most of that summer.”
    Zoe nods her head seriously, like she has already anticipated Tali’s skepticism. “We just have to do the best we can. Camp ends in only four days. We have to focus on getting all of the objects we need for our date with the photo booth. For Joy, that means getting the talent-show tiara. For me, it means winning the fencing tournament again. And for you . . .” She trails off and looks at Tali. “Well, you have it the easiest.”
    â€œI do?” Tali asks, popping the meatball into her mouth.
    â€œSure. All you have to do is explore Blake’s nether regions, like you did two summers ago—aka
this
summer,” Zoe says, smirking.
    Tali coughs, regretting the meatball. She grabs her Diet Coke, taking a long sip.
    â€œWhat she means is you need to get his boxers from himagain,” Joy clarifies, as if Tali doesn’t get it.
    â€œI know what she means,” Tali replies quickly. “You’re right. It’s no problem.” She forces a big smile. Inside, her heart is beating fast. For a moment, she debates telling her former friends the truth.
    But maybe, she thinks, Zoe is wrong. Maybe it’s never too late to change the past.
    Tali can smell the smoke from the bonfire before she can see the flames. Isn’t that what they always say of fire? Funny how from afar it looks so pretty. Harmless, even.
    Tali may not really be the rustic type, but bonfires always remind her of the large beach fires her aunt and uncle in Rhode Island would build on their private strip of sand, back when she was too tiny to even be allowed within five feet of the flames. The Safety Point, they called it. Back when things were simpler, when security could be counted in child-size steps.
    Back when she believed people were exactly as they seemed. People like her own father.
    â€œYou guys,” Luce says beside her, pulling Tali out of a dangerous spiral of thoughts. “For the first time since whatever the hell happened to us this afternoon, I just . . . I don’t know. I got an incredible feeling. I think it’s all this.” She gestures toward the bonfire, its flickering light dancing on her golden-brown skin.
    Joy smiles, toying with her side braid. “I know what you mean. Being back here. It almost seems like it wasn’t an accident. It’s kind of . . . exciting.”
    Tali has to admit, through the thick layers of stress hovering in her mind like smog—the lies, the unanswered questions, the tasks ahead of them, the utter surrealness of it all—somewhere amid that she can feel what Luce and Joy are talking about: that spark. That Okahatchee magic.
    Zoe shrugs as the four of them cross the rest of the grassy field toward the barren, cleared-out area where the fire roars, surrounded by a thick crowd. “I still think I should be practicing for the tournament, rather than, ya know, basking in the weird time warp—”
    â€œSh!” Luce turns to Zoe with a finger to her lips.
    â€œSorry, sorry,” Zoe mutters, and Tali can’t help but crack a tiny smile. Despite all her convictions about this time travel business, there’s one area in which Zoe Albright could never follow her own advice—subtlety. Zoe simply cannot keep her mouth shut. It’s one of her most annoying, and lovable, traits. Back in middle school, Zoe and Tali could wander the streets of Liberty