by Lexa Hillyer
“See?” Ellis says quietly, her words a whisper across Zoe’s face. “Just be with it. In the moment. When you get it, it feels right.”
Zoe feels a flash of excitement. She is getting it.
They pick up their épées again and begin to spar once more. This time, Zoe tests her weight, leaning in more, like Ellis taught her. At first, a wave of nervousness passes through her and she’s certain she’s going to lose her balance. But then she successfully pulls off a smooth glide, never losing contact with Ellis’s weapon. And it starts to click into place . . . it starts to feel right, like Ellis said.
A jolt of adrenaline races through Zoe’s veins—she rears, swings, and effectively knocks Ellis’s sword from her hands. “Yes!” she hollers, relief flooding her entire body. She did it.
Ellis dusts her hands off on the sides of her shorts. “Not bad,” she admits, and Zoe feels her entire face glowing both with triumph and the heat of the effort. “Keep it up and you’re bound to win tomorrow.”
Zoe nods, realizing that for the last few minutes, she completely forgot this was even about winning at all, about getting the medal, about escaping back to the present. For a second or two, she was just living in the moment.
Ellis leads Zoe toward the shed where all of her family’s extensive athletic gear is stored, neatly arranged by sport and season. Zoe feels another flash of wistfulness—if only Calvin were here to joke about this with her.
“So, see you tonight?” Ellis asks as Zoe prepares to make her way back to camp.
Zoe turns and looks at Ellis curiously, once again—for what must be the millionth time this week—thrown off by her.
“You didn’t hear?” Ellis explains. “My brother’s throwing a rager after the talent show. Special guests only. Mostly private-school friends and tennis assholes. But you should come.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Zoe hedges. Another party. And yet another element of the summer that in no way matches what really happened the first time around. Has she already pushed the boundaries of history too far by coming here and confronting Ellis? “Thanks. For, um, everything.”
She trudges back toward the long driveway.
“Don’t forget your bikini,” Ellis calls out after her. Zoe turns once more as Ellis gestures toward the gleaming pool beyond the tennis courts in the distance, where Blake’s perfect form moves neatly through the air as he hits the ball with a satisfying thwack. Behind him, the pool seems to wink in the sun, turquoise and undulant in the slight breeze, almost taunting, and beyond that, a giant lawn mower has started up, slowly drowning out everything else with its hum.
Zoe just raises a hand, and Ellis smiles.
Why not party tonight? Even though it’ll take her a full hour to get back to camp on foot, she’s in a great mood now. With the progress she’s made, Zoe knows she’s got tomorrow’s competition in the bag at last.
Besides, it’s like Ellis said: She may as well start engaging, start living in the moment. You can’t win if you’re holding back.
14
“I think I have something that will work,” Brianna Bradley says, eyeing Tali up and down, then surveying her chest with extra attention. “A padded something,” she adds.
Brianna turns around and roots through one of her cubbies, pulling out various lacy thongs, demi-cup bras, and a few other items that even Tali has never worn, like a garter full of pink and white ribbons. “Why do you have that?” she blurts out.
Brianna turns to her, swishing her shoulders and pinning Tali with a stern gaze. “Tali. You of all people should realize that anything can happen at camp.” She shrugs and turns back to her rifling. “I like to be prepared.”
Finally she extricates a matching lime-green thong and bra, all lace, the tags on. “Here we go. I knew I still had this set. Bra was too small, plus I found out Mike doesn’t like green, so . . . never been worn. Now,” she says, putting her free hand on her hip. “What are you going to give me? And don’t say hair product—I already got a Feddy full of them last week.”
It’s all Tali can do to keep from rolling her eyes. She knows from Facebook that in two years Brianna will have gotten addicted to self-tanners and takeout, and redubbed Oompa Loompa by her peers. Even as Brianna lords over her, wielding her power as one of the only nonvirgins in their bunk, Tali feels a pang of pity. No one deserves what Bri’s got coming to her.
Tali offers up her watch—the one her dad bought for her last time he was in Paris—in exchange for the matching lingerie. It’s worth it—she certainly doesn’t have anything like it in her cubby.
After finding out about Blake’s party from Zoe this afternoon, the idea formed rapidly in her mind: She’d skip dinner and head over to Blake’s place early, offering to help him set up for his big bash tonight. It might be enough time that she can race back for the talent show, and then return for the actual party. This way, Tali will find some alone time with Blake before the party even starts, and hopefully make up for her humiliating overboard moment. She still can’t remember the fall without cringing. No wonder Blake has barely looked at her except to wink and call out, “Staying dry, Bender?”
Of course, she also can’t help but cringe remembering how he’d called her Tanya. Did he really not know her name? Or had she just been disoriented out there, thrashing in the water, and misheard?
Plus then there were his hands on her body, overeager, overhasty . . . the memory makes her feel a tad sick to her stomach. But, it’s still Blake Green, the hottest boy at camp. And whether she wants to admit it or not, this isn’t just about a crush anymore. She needs him.
Or at least, she needs his underpants.
Hastily, hidden away in a shower stall, she changes into the pretty bra and underwear, slipping an almost-see-through white dress on over them, then stashes the tags in the Dumpsters by the main hall.
She is forced to scare one of the younger campers into lending her his bike. She’s certainly not going to a hitch a ride down the road like Zoe claims she did earlier today—not in this outfit. That’s how pretty girls disappear. Even Tali, who hates reading the news, knows that.
Now, on the too-short bike, Tali pedals along the gravel road, letting the late-afternoon wind ruffle the hem of her dress. It’s got to be after four p.m., maybe even closer to five, but the sun is still blazing on, relentless. Tali pictures Blake’s smile, and recalls once again the feel of his hands around her waist as he touched her on the boat two nights ago. . . . Obviously he wanted her. She can do this.
When she arrives at the address, she ditches the bike in the bushes by the edge of the woods and takes in the grandeur of his house. She isn’t used to families richer than hers is—was . . . whichever. For a second she freezes, the call she had with her mom in Luce’s kitchen ringing loudly in her ears. Fraud. Investigation. Though she hardly understood what her mother was trying to tell her, the details didn’t matter—she got the basic point. Their assets are frozen. Her dad is in trouble. For years, he’s been lying to them, corrupt. He’s not the man they thought he was. . . . She’s been so horrified by his deceit that she hasn’t spent much time considering exactly how their lives are going to change. But it occurs to her now that everything is going to change. Her future is a big fat unknown, threatening to unravel her.
All she can do, she realizes, is cling to the unknown of now. Blake.
She reaches up compulsively to smooth out her hair, praying it looks okay, and swallows back the lump of fear that has formed in her throat. Then, setting her shoulders back and standing tall, she walks down the driveway, feeling the white dress swish around her legs.
She is about to knock on the front door to a chorus of yapping dogs when, beneath the high-pitched barking, she hears the siren call of the tennis ball—pong, thwack, pong, thwack. Blake.
Stepping back from the door, she makes her way around the side of the house instead, noticing the heady scent of freshly mow
n grass—so strong her nose starts to twitch. Finally, she catches a glimpse of Blake, his shoulder muscles moving fluidly as the ball machine shoots tennis ball after tennis ball at him and he easily sends them to the other side of the court. She approaches slowly, not wanting to interrupt his practice but still floating toward him helplessly, as though carried in his direction by an invisible tide.
By now the yapping dogs have quieted down, and she hears another sound—a low buzz, rumbling not too far away, almost like an overloud generator or some kind of motor. She’s about to raise her voice and call out to Blake, when the source of the distant hum makes itself known—a big, heavy-duty lawn mower appears in her sightline, rounding the tennis courts at the far end, about to make a turn back toward the house.
And sitting on top of the lawn mower is Tow Boy.
With a flood of horror, she realizes that as soon as the mower rounds the corner of the courts, he’ll see her, standing there in her sexy dress. Instinctively, she leaps to the side, toward the garage, which has a storage unit attached to it, containing rows and rows of fancy-looking athletic gear. As quickly as possible, she closes the door almost all the way shut. It’s hot and dark inside the shed, but at least she’s concealed.
How the hell did Tow Boy get a job mowing Blake’s lawn? How many jobs does this frigging guy have? She knows the lifeguards switch off days, but still, her luck has never been worse. It’s like he’s following her or something. Briefly she thinks about the feel of his arms around her when he hauled her to the surface of the lake . . . how he lectured her about the rules of camp . . .
How he took off his shirt, revealing maddeningly ripped abs.
Nudity. No one can resist it.
The engine of the lawn mower shuts off. Good. Tow Boy must be done. She’ll just wait a minute or so, and the coast will be clear.
Quickly, she strips off her dress, excitement coursing through her body. This is definitely something the old Tali never would have done, way too self-conscious about her body. When Blake comes to the shed to return his racket, he’ll find Tali ready and waiting. There’s no way anything can stop them from hooking up now. It has become a point of pride—she’s got to make this happen. She’s not sure she’ll be able to withstand failing again.
She’s so distracted that it takes her a second to realize something has changed—she no longer hears the pong, thwack of the tennis ball. This is it. He’s done with practice.
Suddenly, she’s awash with nervousness and wishes she had something to wipe her sweaty palms on. She grabs onto something—possibly a ski pole—and does her best to strike a casually seductive pose, resting her cheek against her arm like she’s just relaxing in here, ready for whatever. She hears an exchange of low voices and footsteps just outside the door of the shed, and through the crack of light where it’s still open an inch she sees a shadow fall across the bright green grass.
The handle of the shed door creaks, and then it swings open, and standing there before her, in all his tall, glorious, muscular height, tennis racket hanging from his hand, the sun blazing around him like a full-body halo, is . . .
Tow Boy.
Tali screams.
Without thinking, she pushes past him. Her blood races to her head so quickly she worries she’s about to pass out, but she doesn’t care; she dashes toward the bushes at the corner of the front lawn where she left the kid’s stolen bike, hearing Tow Boy call out after her. She can’t even tell what he’s saying, whether he’s laughing at her. He must be laughing at her.
Why why WHY? Where did Blake go? Tali doesn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or furious. She pushes hard on the pedals of the bike, riding as fast as she can, wishing she could ride through the woods but knowing the terrain is way too thick with trees, praying no one drives past and sees her like this . . . riding a child’s bike. In a bright green thong. She’ll probably get arrested.
She keeps replaying what just happened: Tow Boy came to the door. Tow Boy saw her. Tow Boy saw her basically naked.
A car drives by, honking. Someone shouts at her.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Tali bangs the palm of her hand against the handlebars, which causes the bike to wobble dangerously in the gravel. Shit. The last thing she needs right now is to bite it on the side of the road and return to camp both half-naked and injured.
She tries to recall Tow Boy’s face in her mind as she pushed past him but can’t. Was he grinning? Shocked? Disgusted, horrified, amused? She must have seemed like an insane, half-naked alien, shoving into him, darting past him, in her practically neon undies.
She sees the Camp Okahatchee entrance up ahead and makes a sharp left turn into it, her legs starting to ache from pedaling so fast . . . just as the loud wail of the dinner horn breaks into the evening air.
Wooo-ooooh! it cries like a foghorn.
And then, as though physically attached to the sound itself, dozens, if not hundreds, of campers, stream out of cabins, some in lines, some in chaotic clumps, making their way to the dining hall.
Tali tries to hit the brakes violently, causing her bike to almost fall again. Oh great. Already, a group of boys has turned to look at her, pointing and laughing.
In what seems like half a second, tons of other campers are screaming, shouting, whistling, laughing, and calling to her. It’s so surreal, Tali can’t think. She just keeps pedaling—determined to keep riding to safety, somewhere at the edge of the woods where no one can see her.
Like some sort of coordinated, choreographed flash mob, the crowd separates all at once, enough to let her through.
And then, something weird happens.
It starts with Crazy Casey. She races out of the arts and crafts center cheering, then whips off her own top and runs after Tali in only her bra and shorts. Tali is astonished to see a few more girls join in. They’re not just laughing, they’re cheering, too, hollering but not in a mean way . . . in an excited away. Like Tali is their hero.
A couple of counselors notice the commotion and start shouting, “Enough!” One is waving her arms and another blows his whistle at her. The wild desire to laugh bubbles up inside her. Then it bursts open, and she is laughing. She’s laughing and crying and screaming. “Wahoo!” she shouts, raising a fist into the air, not even caring anymore what these people think. It’s way too late for that. It’s too late for sex appeal, too late for dignity, too late for worrying.
She has ridden straight down to the sand. And so she leaps off the bike, ditching it in the sand, and races the rest of the way to the edge of the lake. Then she throws herself into it, knowing full well that basically all of Camp OK just got a full view of her perky ass.
She flies into the water, then comes up for air, realizing she’s still laughing. Water streams off her body. The lake is refreshingly cool against her skin, which is hot from the bike ride and the intense waves of embarrassment. She turns around. About twenty or twenty-five girls are splashing around in the lake, too.
And the counselors are not happy about it.
She stands to her full height in the water, powerful now, like the Pied Piper of Streaking. She did this. She caused this. She just led a movement, a protest of some kind. A bunch of counselors have gathered at the shore, furiously blowing into their whistles and shouting, and yet all around her girls are diving, stripping, laughing, splashing, and screaming. Boys have gathered, too, cheering them on. It’s inexplicable. It’s intoxicating.
Through the kaleidoscope of naked arms and legs, of rainbow-colored bras and underwear, she sees the Cruz, standing on the shore with her hands on her hips. She freezes. The Cruz catches her eye and glares.
Tali stands there for a second, wondering what to do. She looks around and sees Zoe and Joy in the water with her, also in just their bras, smiling and laughing.
Zoe splashes Joy, who screams, wading over to Tali and grabbing her shoulders from behind.
Zoe tumbles over to them, landing a giant splash in Tali’s face.
“Back off, Albright!” Tali announces, whirling a big splash of water back on Zoe, whose hair is plastered all over her face like some sort of sea monster.
Zoe screams and then leaps on her, and soon, the three of them are tumbling backward into the water in a giant heap of squeals and shouts and arms and legs.
In that moment, Tali really is fifteen again. Who cares if she has changed history irrevocably? Over her last two years in Liberty, it was like she won the popularity lottery, and she has had to be super careful not to screw it up by saying, doing, or even thinking the wrong thing. Now that she’s back in time, she has nothing to lose. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks.
She leaps up and falls back into the water again, making a huge splash, smiling at the sky. She has never felt so free.
15
“The court’s clear. He shoots!” Rob Gurns says, standing in perfect form for a shot at a basket.
Luce looks up just in time to see his wadded-up popcorn bag sailing in a high arc through the early-evening sky, right toward her head.
“Ew!” she screams, dropping the garbage bag she’s been holding open and dodging to the side to avoid getting hit in the face with the trash.
“Air ball,” Rob says with a shrug, going back to collecting more litter strewn across the sand. He’s so tall, his body looks something like a question mark as he bends over the ground looking for forgotten garbage. With his warm complexion and twin dimples, Rob should be cute, but there’s something wild-eyed and goofy about his face, and his arms and legs always seem to be moving in contradictory directions like a giant octopus.
“Look, neither of us is happy to be here, okay, Rob? The faster we get this done, the sooner we can go in for dinner.” It’s all Luce can do to keep her voice steady. She’s annoyed, tired, depressed, and on the verge of a meltdown. While the other campers were leaping wildly, half-clothed, into the swimming area of the lake, including her three best friends, she and Rob have been collecting trash on the opposite shore for what feels like hours. Today’s punishment is even worse than yesterday’s, when she had to spend the afternoon helping Kelsey from Bunk Coyote peel gum off picnic tables.
