Page 95 of Forever To Me

I throw my arms up. “Wedidlight, even layers! The bottle said ‘tropical bronze’! Look at us! We’re like the cast of Willy Wonka.”

Poppy collapses into giggles, clutching her stomach. “I can’t—” she wheezes. “I literally can’t breathe. Violet, your knees… your knees are glowing.”

I look down. My knees are neon orange. Like Halloween pumpkin bright.

“Dear God,” I whisper. “This is how it ends. As an internet meme.”

We gather in front of the mirror, horrified but fascinated. I can't stop looking at all of us; we look so ridiculous.

Cami’s arms look like a human Rorschach test—uneven patches everywhere.

Poppy’s legs are striped like a tiger, and Mack somehow missed her left foot entirely.

My knees and elbows are so neon they might glow in the dark.

“Okay,” Mack says, wiping sweat off her forehead, leaving a tan stripe. “We can fix this.”

Poppy sits on the floor, still laughing. “Fix it? What are you gonna do? Power-wash us?”

Mack brightens. “Actually… yeah.”

Five minutes later, we’re in Walker's backyard, standing in nothing but old shorts and tank tops, while Cami uncoils the garden hose.

“This is a terrible idea,” I say, arms crossed.

Poppy’s already giggling again. “What if someone sees us?”

I gesture toward Mack, who’s aiming the hose like she’s about to blast us off the planet. “We look like escaped circus performers. We’re practically a tourist attraction.”

"Even the horses look concerned," Poppy laughs as she points to them watching us, their tails swaying, curiously.

Mack twists the nozzle. “Hold still.”

The first blast of water hits me square in the face, and I sputter. “Mack!”

“Oops!” she says, not looking remotely sorry.

The next blast hits Poppy, who lets out a high-pitched squeal and drops into a defensive crouch. “It’s like being attacked by a fire hose!”

“Stop squirming!” Cami yells. “We have to get the streaks off!”

“I swear to God, if I die via hose attack?—”

Suddenly the water pressure surges. The nozzle flies from Mack's hands like a missile, spinning wildly, and blasts Poppy right in the chest.

She goes down like a sack of potatoes.

I’m screaming. Cami’s screaming. Poppy’s lying on theground, soaked, orange streaks running down her legs like she lost a fight with a paintball gun.

And then we hear it.

A low, rumbling laugh.

We whip around and see Walker, Ollie, and Jack standing on the other side of the fence, beer bottles in hand, grinning like idiots. Jack covers his mouth with his hand sheepishly as Walker glares at him for laughing.

Then, Walker’s eyes lock with mine. He takes one look at my neon-orange knees and wheezing laughter spills out of him.

Ollie bends over, hands on his knees. “Oh… my God. What… did youdo?”

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