by Jenny Han
“Is it a free country?” my mother mused. “I want you to really think about that statement, Steven. What about our civil liberties? Are we really free if—”
“Laurel, please,” Susannah said, shaking her head. “Let’s not talk politics at the dinner table.”
“I don’t know of a better time for political discourse,” my mother said calmly. Then she looked at me. I mouthed, Please stop, and she sighed. It was better to stop her right away before she really got going. “Okay, fine. Fine. No more politics. I’m going to the bookstore downtown. I’ll drop you guys off on the way.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said. “It’ll be just Taylor and me.”
Jeremiah ignored me and turned to Steven and Conrad. “Come on, guys,” he said. “It’ll be amazing.” Taylor had been calling everything amazing all day.
“Fine, but I’m going to the arcade,” said Steven.
“Con?” Jeremiah looked at Conrad, who shook his head.
“Come on, Con,” Taylor said, poking at him with her fork. “Come with us.”
He shook his head, and Taylor made a face. “Fine. We’ll be sure to have lots of fun without you.”
Jeremiah said, “Don’t worry about him. He’s gonna have lots of fun here, reading the Encyclopaedia Britannica.” Conrad ignored this, but Taylor giggled and tucked her hair behind her ears, which is when I knew that she liked Jeremiah now.
Then Susannah said, “Don’t leave without some money for ice cream.” I could tell she was happy we were all hanging out, except for Conrad, who seemed to prefer hanging out by himself this summer. Nothing made Susannah happier than thinking up activities for us kids to do. I think that she would have made a really good camp director.
In the car we waited for my mother and the boys to come out, and I whispered, “I thought you liked Conrad.”
Taylor rolled her eyes. “Blah. He’s boring. I think I’ll like Jeremy instead.”
“His name is Jeremiah,” I said sourly.
“I know that.” Then she looked at me, and her eyes widened. “Why, do you like him now?”
“No!”
She let out an impatient breath of air. “Belly, you’ve got to pick one. You can’t have them both.”
“I know that,” I snapped. “And for your information, I don’t want either of them. It’s not like they look at me like that anyway. They look at me like Steven does. Like a little sister.”
Taylor tugged at my T-shirt collar. “Well, maybe if you showed a little cleave …”
I shrugged her hand away. “I’m not showing any ‘cleave.’ And I told you I don’t like either of them. Not anymore.”
“So you don’t care that I’m going after Jeremy?” she asked. I could tell the only reason she was asking was so she could absolve herself of any future guilt. Not that she would even feel guilty.
So I said, “If I told you I cared, would you stop?”
She thought for, like, a second. “Probably. If you really, really cared. But then I would just go after Conrad. I’m here to have fun, Belly.”
I sighed. At least she was honest. I wanted to say, I thought you were here to have fun with me. But I didn’t.
“Go after him,” I told her. “I don’t care.”
Taylor wiggled her eyebrows at me, her old trademark move. “Yay! It is so on.”
“Wait.” I grabbed her wrist. “Promise me you’ll be nice to him.”
“Of course I’ll be nice. I’m always nice.” She patted me on the shoulder. “You’re such a worrier, Belly. I told you, I just want to have fun.”
That’s when my mother and the boys came out, and for the first time there was no fight over shotgun. Jeremiah gave it over to Steven easily.
When we got to the boardwalk, Steven headed straight for the arcade and spent the whole night there. Jeremiah walked around with us, and he even rode the carousel, even though I knew he thought it was lame. He got all stretched out on the sleigh and pretended to take a nap while Taylor and I bounced up and down on horses, mine a blond palomino and hers a black stallion. (Black Beauty was still her favorite book, although she’d never admit it.) Then Taylor made him win her a stuffed Tweety Bird with the quarter toss. Jeremiah was a pro at the quarter toss. The Tweety Bird was huge, almost as tall as she was. He carried it for her.
I should never have gone along. I could have predicted the whole night, right down to how invisible I’d feel. All the time I wished I was at home, listening to Conrad play the guitar through my bedroom wall, or watching Woody Allen movies with Susannah and my mother. And I didn’t even like Woody Allen. I wondered if this was how the rest of the week was going to be. I’d forgotten that about Taylor, the way she got when she wanted something—driven, single-minded, and determined as all get-out. She’d just arrived, and already she’d forgotten about me.
chapter nineteen
We’d only just gotten there, and it was already time for Steven to go. He and our dad were going on their college road trip, and instead of coming back to Cousins after, he was going home. Supposedly to start studying for the SATs, but more likely, to hang out with his new girlfriend.
I went to his room to watch him pack up. He hadn’t brought much, just a duffel bag. I was suddenly sad to see him leave. Without Steven everything would be off balance—he was the buffer, the real life reminder that nothing really changes, that everything can stay the same. Because, Steven never changed. He was just obnoxious, insufferable Steven, my big brother, the bane of my existence. He was like our old flannel blanket that smelled like wet dog—smelly, comforting, a part of the infrastructure that made up my world. And with him there, everything would still be the same, three against one, boys against girls.
“I wish you weren’t leaving,” I said, tucking my knees into my chest.
“I’ll see you in a month,” he reminded me.
“A month and a half,” I corrected him sullenly. “You’re missing my birthday, you know.”
“I’ll give you your present when I see you at home.”
“Not the same.” I knew I was being a baby, but I couldn’t help it. “Will you at least send me a postcard?”
Steven zipped up his duffel bag. “I doubt I’ll have time. I’ll send you a text, though.”
“Will you bring me back a Princeton sweatshirt?” I couldn’t wait to wear a college sweatshirt. They were like a badge that said you were mature, practically college age if not already. I wished I had a whole drawer full of them.
“If I remember,” he said.
“I’ll remind you,” I said. “I’ll text you.”
“Okay. It’ll be your birthday present.”
“Deal.” I fell back onto his bed and pushed my feet up against his wall. He hated it when I did that. “I’ll probably miss you, a little bit.”
“You’ll be too busy drooling over Conrad to notice I’m gone,” Steven said.
I stuck my tongue out at him.
Steven left really early the next morning. Conrad and Jeremiah were going to drive him to the airport. I went down to say good-bye, but I didn’t try to go along because I knew he wouldn’t want me to. He wanted some time, just them, and for once I was going to let him have it without a fight.
When he hugged me good-bye, he gave me his trademark condescending look—sad eyes and a half grimace—and said, “Don’t do anything stupid, all right?” He said it in this really meaningful way, like he was trying to tell me something important, like I was supposed to understand.
But I didn’t. I said, “Don’t you do anything stupid either, butthead.”
He sighed and shook his head at me like I was a child.
I tried not to let it bother me. After all, he was lea
ving, and things wouldn’t be the same without him. At the very least I could send him off without getting into a petty argument. “Tell Dad I said hi,” I said.
I didn’t go back to bed right away. I stayed on the front porch awhile, feeling blue and a little teary—not that I would ever admit it to Steven.
In a lot of ways it was like the last summer. That fall, Conrad would start college. He was going to Brown. He might not come back next summer. He might have an internship, or summer school, or he might backpack across Europe with all his new dorm buddies. And Jeremiah, he might go to the football camp he was always talking about. There were a lot of things that could happen between now and then. It occurred to me that I was going to have to make the most of this summer, really make it count, in case there wasn’t another one quite like it. After all, I would be sixteen soon. I was getting older too. Things couldn’t stay the same forever.
chapter twenty
AGE 11
The four of us were lying on a big blanket in the sand. Conrad, Steven, Jeremiah, and then me on the edge. That was my spot. When they let me come along. This was one of those rare days.
It was already midafternoon, so hot my hair felt like it was on fire, and they were playing cards while I listened in.
Jeremiah said, “Would you rather be boiled in olive oil or skinned alive with a burning hot butter knife?”
“Olive oil,” said Conrad confidently. “It’s over quicker.”
“Olive oil,” I echoed.
“Butter knife,” said Steven. “There’s more of a chance I can turn the tables on the guy and skin him.”
“That wasn’t an option,” Conrad told him. “It’s a question about death, not turning the tables on somebody.”
“Fine. Olive oil,” Steven said grumpily. “What about you, Jeremiah?”
“Olive oil,” Jeremiah said. “Now you go, Con.”
Conrad squinted his eyes up at the sun and said, “Would you rather live one perfect day over and over or live your life with no perfect days but just decent ones?”
Jeremiah didn’t say anything for a minute. He loved this game. He loved to mull over the different possibilities. “With that one perfect day, would I know I was reliving it, like Groundhog Day?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll take the perfect day,” he decided.
“Well, if the perfect day involves—” Steven began, but then he looked over at me and stopped speaking, which I hated. “I’ll take the perfect day too.”
“Belly?” Conrad looked at me. “What would you pick?”
My mind raced around in circles as I tried to find the right answer. “Um. I’d take living my life with decent days. That way I could still hope for that one perfect day,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to have a life that’s just one day over and over.”
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t know it,” Jeremiah argued.
I shrugged. “But you might, deep down.”
“That’s stupid,” Steven said.
“I don’t think it’s stupid. I think I agree with her.” Conrad gave me this look, the kind of look I bet soldiers give each other when they’re teaming up against somebody else. It was like we were in it together.
I gave Steven a little shimmy. I couldn’t help myself. “See?” I said. “Conrad agrees with me.”
Steven mimicked, “Conrad agrees with me. Conrad loves me. Conrad’s awesome—”
“Shut up, Steven!” I yelled.
He grinned and said, “My turn to ask a question. Belly, would you rather eat mayonnaise every day, or be flat-chested for the rest of your life?”
I turned on my side, grabbed a handful of sand, and threw it at Steven. He was in the middle of laughing, and a bunch got in his mouth and stuck to his wet cheeks. He screamed, “You’re dead, Belly!”
Then he lunged at me, and I rolled away from him. “Leave me alone,” I said defiantly. “You can’t hurt me or I’ll tell Mom.”
“You’re such a pain in the ass,” he spat out, grabbing my leg roughly. “I’m throwing you in the water.”
I tried to shake him off, but I only succeeded in kicking more sand into his face. Which of course only made him madder.
Conrad said, “Leave her alone, Steven. Let’s go swim.”
“Yeah, come on,” said Jeremiah.
Steven hesitated. “Fine,” he said, spitting out sand. “But you’re still dead, Belly.” He pointed at me, and then made a cutting motion with his finger.
I gave him the finger and flipped over, but inside I was shaking. Conrad had defended me. Conrad cared whether or not I was dead.
Steven was mad at me the whole rest of the day, but it was worth it. It was also ironic, Steven teasing me about being flat-chested, because two summers later I had to wear a bra, but, like, for real.
chapter twenty-one
The night Steven left, I headed down to the pool for one of my midnight swims, and Conrad and Jeremiah and this neighbor guy Clay Bertolet were sitting on the lounge chairs drinking beer. Clay lived way down the street, and he’d been coming to Cousins Beach for almost as long as we had. He was a year older than Conrad. No one had even liked him much. He was just a person to hang out with, I guess.
Right away I stiffened and held my beach towel closer to my chest. I wondered if I should turn back. Clay had always made me nervous. I didn’t have to swim that night. I could do it the next night. But no, I had as much right to be out there as they did. More, even.
I walked over to them, pretend-confident. “Hey, guys,” I said. I didn’t let go of my towel. It felt funny to be standing there in a towel and a bikini when they were all wearing clothes.
Clay looked up at me, his eyes narrow. “Hey, Belly. Long time no see.” He patted the lounge chair. “Sit down.”
I hated when people said “long time no see.” It was such a dumb way to say hello. But I sat down anyway.
He leaned in and gave me a hug. He smelled like beer and Polo Sport. “So how’ve you been?” he asked.
Before I could answer, Conrad said, “She’s fine, and now it’s time for bed. Good night, Belly.”
I tried not to sound like a five-year-old when I said, “I’m not going to sleep yet, I’m swimming.”
“You should head back up,” Jeremiah said, putting his beer down. “Your mom will kill you for drinking.”
“Hello. I’m not drinking,” I reminded him.
Clay offered me his Corona. “Here,” he said, winking. He seemed drunk.
I hesitated, and Conrad snapped irritably, “Don’t give her that. She’s a kid, for God’s sake.”
I glared at him. “Quit acting like Steven.” For a second or two I considered taking Clay’s beer. It would be my first. But then I’d only be doing it to spite Conrad, and I wasn’t going to let him control what I did.
“No, thanks,” I told him.
Conrad nodded imperceptibly. “Now go back to bed like a good girl.”
It felt just like when he and Steven and Jeremiah used to leave me out of things on purpose. I could feel my cheeks burning as I said, “I’m only two years younger than you.”
“Two and a quarter,” he corrected automatically.
Clay laughed, and I could smell his yeasty breath. “Shit, my girlfriend was fifteen.” Then he looked at me. “Ex-girlfriend.”
I smiled weakly. Inside, I was shrinking away from him and his breath. But the way Conrad was watching us, well, I liked it. I liked taking his friend away from him, even if it was just for five minutes. “Isn’t that, like, illegal?” I asked Clay.
He laughed again. “You’re cute, Belly.”
I could feel myself blush. “So, um, why did you break up?” I asked, like I didn’t alread
y know. They broke up because Clay’s a jerk, that was why. Clay had always been a jerk. He used to try to feed the seagulls Alka-Seltzer because he heard it made their stomachs blow up.
Clay scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know. She had to go to horse camp or something. Long distance relationships are BS.”
“But it would just be for the summer,” I protested. “It’s dumb to break up over a summer.” I’d nursed a crush on Conrad for whole school years. I could survive for months, years, on a crush. It was like food. It could sustain me. If Conrad was mine, there was no way I’d break up with him over a summer—or a school year, for that matter.
Clay looked at me with his heavy-lidded, sleepy eyes and said, “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Yes,” I said, and I couldn’t help myself—I looked at Conrad when I said it. See, I was saying, I’m not a stupid twelve-year-old girl with a crush anymore. I’m a real person. With an actual boyfriend. Who cared if it wasn’t true? Conrad’s eyes flickered, but his face was the same, expressionless. Jeremiah, though, he looked surprised.
“Belly, you have a boyfriend?” He frowned. “You never mentioned him.”
“It’s not that serious.” I picked at an unraveling thread on the seat cushion. I was already regretting making it up. “In fact, we’re really, really casual.”
“See? Then what’s the point of a relationship during summer? What if you meet people?” Clay winked at me in a jokey way. “Like right now?”
“We’ve already met, Clay. Like, ten years ago.” Not that he’d ever actually paid me any attention.
He nudged me with his knee. “Nice to meet you. I’m Clay.”
I laughed, even though it wasn’t funny. It just felt like the right thing to do. “Hi, I’m Belly.”
“So, Belly, are you gonna come to my bonfire tomorrow night?” he asked me.
“Um, sure,” I said, trying not to sound too excited.