Maybe
Congratulations, students. You have completed school.
You are now ready to move on in your lives.
Never forget the information you learned here.
The way to treat fellow octarians.
Your debt to society.
What inklings deserve.
Remember these, and you will never face uncertainty.
"So here we have a tent, two sleeping bags, a portable stove, several portable chargers, and food," Pearl says, smugness radiating from her. "3/4 of the way up your favorite mountain. And absolutely no one here." Pearl turns to Marina and props her hands on her hips, grinning smugly. "You kept saying you wanted some time just to relax. Well, here we are. My dad told me to camp here, go to the summit tomorrow, come down on the third day. And neither of us have anything better to do."
Marina laughs. "This is the big surprise?" She sets down her bag with a thud. "A camping trip?"
"You've been talking about it for ages, Rina! Wanting to go on hikes, how you miss seeing the stars now that you've got your own place, have you ever even built a campfire?"
"Well, no, but-"
"We're building a campfire," Pearl says, nodding several times.
Marina swallows hard. "Can we—can we climb just a little further, first?" She has to force the words out. "Some of this has looked familiar."
"Sure." Pearl sets down her own bag. "There's supposed to be a river somewhere along here; we can go fishing!"
Marina shudders.
"Catch and release, you baby," adds Pearl.
"I feel sorry for them." Marina tries not to whine. "They're just going about their everyday lives, swimming around and eating, and they're yanked to a painful new reality and death." If you ignore the 'death' part, that's just what happened to Marina, way back when she first heard the Calamari Inkantation for the first time. So much has happened; so much has changed. It doesn't seem real.
"It's no different than what you get at the store," says Pearl.
"They don't look at me at the store, Pearl."
And Pearl rolls her eyes and drops her pack on the ground as well. "Let's have lunch and set up the tents first," Pearl suggests.
Marina spreads out their picnic blanket and lunch: sandwiches, pre-made smores (though no doubt they'll make real ones tonight), juice, chips, and—just for Pearl—a small, unopened jar of mayonaise (ugh). When she looks up, Pearl has set up... well, she's... oh, worm. "Pearl, do you need some help with the tents?"
"No," Pearl says, as Marina gets to her feet. "Everything's going just fine, Rina."
Marina unwinds the canvas to discover Pearl managed to snap three tent poles to each other and trap herself in a shape she'd have previously said couldn't exist. Even now, it brings a smile to her face. "You should stick to rapping, Pearlie."
"I can do it," protests Pearl, and Marina bites back her smile. She turns away from Pearl and takes the other tent, setting it up with slow, deliberate steps. Every time she looks over, Pearl isn't watching her, but her tent is set up exactly as much as Marina's is.
Marina does not smile. Pearl likes doing things by herself when she can, to be normal, not a spoiled rich girl. She won't want Marina to step in, or show her step by step. She has her pride. But she's so cute when she does things this way.
"Finished!" Marina announces at last.
"Me too," Pearl says. "I'll wash up after we eat, since you did lunch."
Marina rolls her shoulders. "Not much to clean. How about you cook supper?"
"Deal."
The sandwich tastes like Octarian field rations. Marina takes small bites and chews and chews, struggles to swallow. Even the juice seems dry.
Pearl nudges her. Marina glances over. "Yo yo yo, it's MC Princess in da house! We got lunch, it's better than brunch, and soon we're going hiking, I've got a hunch!"
Marina's giggles almost make her cry. Pearl. She noticed. And...
"I guess I'm not as hungry as I thought I'd be," Marina says, wrapping up the sandwich. She finishes the last of her chips, though they stick in her throat. "I'll take this with me; I'll probably want it while fishing."
"I'll grab the poles," Pearl says, running for her bag.
While Marina wraps everything up (though she takes the bag of chips and extra water) and secures it from wildlife, Pearl slots together their fishing poles. Then, a bounce in her step, she starts up the path. "Come on!"
Marina takes a deep breath and follows her.
The air up here is clear and still; the trees aren't as dense. Ten minutes of walking, and there's a rock Marina recognizes. She doesn't realize she stopped until Pearl's beside her. "You okay?"
"This is it," she says, out loud for once. "I..." Harbor. She swallows hard. "I kinda suspected, but..."
"It's been years, but nature doesn't change fast," Pearl says. She looks around. "Do we need to be ready for any of your relatives to show up? Anyone else from that-" she stops, takes a deep breath. "Do you want to stop here?"
Marina shakes her head. "Let's keep going," she says.
Pearl nods and leads the way. But Marina notices she's got her duallies in her hands. She needs to distract Pearl. She needs to distract herself. So she hums Color Pulse as she walks, and Pearl joins in. Then, she just hums... anything. Making up tunes, pausing so Pearl can make something up, sometimes together, sometimes separate, and every now and then they'll return to the pumping Woah-oh-oh! Oh-oh-oh-oh! they want to use in their next song.
If they can get words to this, they may have something.
But it all leaves her mind when she sees the log. Over the river.
Her brain screeches to a stop, and she steps closer to it, looking at Pearl from the corners of her eyes.
Two, three more steps. Any moment now. They're going to walk alongside it on their way to the top, and-
"This looks fresh," Pearl says, walking to the edge and peering down. No more than a step away from the log.
Marina's hearts stop.
"Ugh, the water's all wrong for good fish, though. Too shallow, too fast. Do you wanna try anyway, or keep going?" Pearl turns her back on the river and walks back to Marina. "If we don't find a spot soon, we'll have to turn around anyway."
It's real.
"We, um..." Marina puts a hand on a tree to steady herself. "I only r-remember one river on this path. So, we may as well go back."
It's real. And it's been real all this time. Is that even possible?
"Do you need to sit for a minute?" Pearl stands on her tiptoes and reaches up, trying for Marina's forehead. "You're all pale."
"I don't think I've had enough to drink," Marina mumbles, and opens her bottle. To avoid Pearl's eyes.
It's real? It's really real? It's...
"We'll finish the hike tomorrow, then," Pearl says, and continues past, satisfied.
No. No, Marina can't believe it yet. They'll walk past it again tomorrow, on their way up. And again, coming back down.
It's not real, it's not real, it's—it might be real. It just might be.
It might.