Proof of Forever by Lexa Hillyer Page A

smiling faces . . . and with them, the last two years of their lives.
    â€œIt’s blank because it
hasn’t happened yet
,” Zoe says.
    â€œWhat are you suggesting?” Tali frowns.
    Zoe shrugs. “I don’t know . . . maybe we have to, like, take it again.”
    â€œTake
that
photo again?” Luce asks.
    An idea starts to unfold in Zoe’s mind, shining brighter and brighter, like the sun as clouds part to reveal it. “Yeah. Maybe we have to
re-create
the photo. Maybe we have to re-create our pasts in order to get back to the present.” It makes an insane sort of sense as she thinks about it. “The photo booth did this. Instead of taking a
new
photo of us, it caused some sort of glitch in the time-space continuum. It
untook
the old photo of us, thereby reversing time, and—”
    â€œThis is absurd,” Tali says, crossing her arms.
    â€œHow can we know it would even work?” Luce adds.
    â€œWell.” Joy looks at all of them. “Do we have a better idea? Anyone?”
    â€œTrue,” Zoe says. “It’s as good a plan as we’ve got. Although . . . if we have to duplicate it exactly”—Zoe realizeswhat this actually means and feels sick—“I need that fencing medal from the photo.”
    â€œOh crap,” Joy adds. “I’ll need that stupid talent-show crown! And Tali will need those boxers. . . .”
    Luce adjusts her weight. “I was wearing the merit badge, which I earned for helping Ricky—
shit.
Shitshitshit.” She squints back out at the playing field where the counselors are breaking down all the relay equipment. “Someone else
already
helped Ricky. How am I going to get that badge?” Her voice breaks again, and Joy reaches out and squeezes her hand.
    â€œYou’ll find a way. You have to,” Tali says bluntly.
    â€œBut we need to be careful,” Zoe says. Of the four of them, Zoe knows in her gut that she’s the one who really
gets
it. She didn’t spend most of sixth grade obsessively watching and rewatching all of
Dr. Who
for nothing. If this really is the past—and she still isn’t completely convinced of it—then it has become clear that
already
things are not going the way they did that last summer. And changing the past—no matter
which
sci-fi movie you’re watching—is never a good idea. “Whatever we do, we’ve got to be sure not to rewrite history. If this
is
the past and we somehow got thrown back into it, then we need to do everything
just
like we did it before, until we can find a way to fix this. Do you guys understand me? This is important.”
    Tali nods. “She’s right. We need to get to that photo booth and retake those photos. We’ve got to try. I mean, what if we end up getting
stuck
back in time? Would we have to relive the last two years all over again?”
    Zoe shudders. “Possibly. I’m not promising it’ll work, but it’s not like we have much of a choice. We have to move forward, and hope this plan works. And like I said, we need to try to follow the past exactly like it happened the first time. Otherwise . . .”
    â€œOtherwise what?” Luce demands.
    Zoe wishes she wasn’t so afraid. She wishes it didn’t feel like the trees were closing in on them, like the world was spinning just a little too fast. Part of her keeps thinking:
This can’t be real, this can’t be real, this can’t be real
. But the words that come out of her mouth make it sound real as hell. “If not, then we could stay trapped in the past forever.”

6
    There’s something very “Circle of Life” about the dinner call at Camp Okahatchee: a blaring horn at exactly 6:30 p.m., which sounds like a mix between an enormous trumpet and one of those old-school conch shells, and then the ensuing flood of campers—the seven- to