by Jenny Han
After about five minutes I couldn’t take it anymore. I got on the phone and called Cam. He said he’d be over in half an hour, but it was more like fifteen minutes.
They walked back into the house when Cam and I were arguing over which movie to watch. “What are you guys gonna watch?” Conrad asked, sitting on the couch opposite us. Red Sox girl sat next to him. She was practically in his lap.
I didn’t look at him when I said, “We’re trying to decide.” Emphasis on the “we’re.”
“Can we watch too?” Conrad asked. “You guys know Nicole, right?”
So, suddenly Conrad felt like being social when he’d spent the whole summer locked up in his room?
“Hey,” she said in a bored tone.
“Hey,” I said, matching her tone as best I could.
“Hey, Nicole,” Cam said. I wanted to tell him not to be so friendly, but I knew he wouldn’t have listened anyway. “I want to watch Reservoir Dogs, but Belly wants to watch Titanic.”
“Seriously?” the girl said, and Conrad laughed.
“Belly loves Titanic,” he said mockingly.
“I loved it when I was, like, nine,” I said. “I want to watch right now so I can laugh at it, for your information.”
I was as cool as a cucumber. I wasn’t going to let him goad me in front of Cam again. And actually, I still loved Titanic. What wasn’t to love about a doomed romance on a doomed ship? I knew for a fact that Conrad had liked it too, even though he’d pretended not to.
“I vote for Reservoir Dogs,” Nicole said, examining her fingernails.
Did she even get a vote? What was she doing there anyway?
“Two votes for Reservoir Dogs,” Cam said. “What about you, Conrad?”
“I think I’ll vote for Titanic,” he said blandly. “Reservoir Dogs sucks even harder than Titanic. It’s overrated.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know what? I think I’ll change my vote to Reservoir Dogs. So it looks like you’re outnumbered, Conrad,” I said.
Nicole looked up from her fingernails and said, “Well, then, I change my vote to Titanic.”
“Who are you?” I muttered under my breath. “Does she even get voting privileges here?”
“Does he?” Conrad jerked his elbow at Cam, who looked startled. “Just kidding, man.”
“Let’s just watch Titanic,” Cam said, taking the DVD out of its case.
We sat and watched stiffly. Everyone else busted up laughing at the part when Jack stands at the helm and says, “I’m the king of the world.” I was silent. About midway through, Nicole whispered something into Conrad’s ear, and the two of them stood up. “See you guys later,” Conrad said.
As soon as they were gone, I hissed, “They’re so disgusting. They probably went upstairs to go at it.”
“Go at it? Who says ‘go at it’?” Cam said, bemused.
“Shut up. Don’t you think she was gross?”
“Gross? No. I think she’s cute. A little too much bronzer, maybe.”
I laughed in spite of myself. “Bronzer? What do you know about bronzer?”
“I have an older sister, remember,” he said, smiling self-consciously. “She likes makeup. We share a bathroom.”
I didn’t remember Cam saying he had a sister.
“Well, anyway, she does wear too much bronzer. She’s bright orange! I wonder where her Red Sox hat is,” I mused.
Cam picked up the remote control and paused the movie. “Why are you so obsessed with her?”
“I’m not obsessed with her. Why would I be obsessed with her? She has no personality. She’s like one of those pod people. She looks at Conrad like he’s God.” I knew he was judging me for being so mean, but I couldn’t stop talking.
He looked at me like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Instead he turned the movie back on.
We sat there on the couch and finished watching the movie in silence. Toward the end I heard Conrad’s voice on the stairs, and without even thinking I snuggled closer to Cam. I rested my head on his shoulder.
Conrad and Nicole came back downstairs, and Conrad looked at the two of us for a second before saying, “Tell my mom I took Nicole home.”
I barely looked up. “Okay.”
As soon as they were gone, Cam sat straight up, and I did too. He took a breath. “Did you invite me over here to make him jealous?”
“Who?” I said.
“You know who. Conrad.”
I could feel a flush rising up my chest and all the way to my cheeks. “No.” It seemed like everybody was wanting to know where things stood with Conrad and me.
“Do you still like him?”
“No.”
He let out a breath of air. “See, you hesitated.”
“No, I didn’t!”
Did I? Had I? I was sure I hadn’t. To Cam I said, “When I look at Conrad, all I feel is disgust.”
I could tell he didn’t believe it. I didn’t either. Because the truth was, when I looked at Conrad, all I felt was a yearning that never went away. It was the same as it had always been. Here I had this really great guy who actually liked me, and deep down inside I was still hung up on Conrad. There, that was the real truth. I had never really let go. I was just like Rose on that stupid makeshift raft.
Cam cleared his throat and said, “You’re leaving soon. Do you want to keep in touch?”
I hadn’t thought about that. He was right, the summer was almost over. Pretty soon I would be home again. “Um … do you?”
“Well, yeah. I do.”
He looked at me like he was expecting something, and I couldn’t figure out what it was for a few seconds. Then I said, “Me too. I do too.” But it came too late. Cam took his cell phone out of his pocket and said he’d better get going. I didn’t argue.
chapter forty
We finally had our movie night. My mother, Susannah, Jeremiah, and I watched Susannah’s favorite Alfred Hitchcock movies in the rec room with all the lights off. My mother made kettle corn in the big cast-iron pot, and she went out and bought Milk Duds and gummy bears and saltwater taffy. Susannah loved saltwater taffy. It was classic, like old times, only without Steven and Conrad, who was working a dinner shift.
Halfway through Notorious, her most favorite of all, Susannah fell asleep. My mother covered her with a blanket, and when the movie was over, she whispered, “Jeremiah, will you carry her upstairs?”
Jeremiah nodded quickly, and Susannah didn’t even wake up when he lifted her in his arms and carried her up the rec room stairs. He picked her up like she was weightless, a feather. I’d never seen him do that before. Even though we were almost the same age, in that moment he almost seemed grown-up.
My mother got up too, stretching. “I’m exhausted. Are you going to bed, too, Belly?”
“Not yet. I think I’ll clean up down here first,” I said.
“Good girl,” she said, winking at me, and then she headed upstairs.
I started picking up the taffy wrappers and a few kernels that had fallen onto the carpet.
Jeremiah came back down when I was putting the movie into its case. He sank into the couch cushions. “Let’s not go to sleep yet,” he said, looking up at me.
“Okay. Do you wanna watch another movie?”
“Nah. Let’s just watch TV.” He picked up the remote and started flipping through channels randomly. “Where’s Cam Cameron been lately?”
Sitting back down, I sighed a little. “I don’t know. He hasn’t called, and I haven’t called him. The summer’s almost over. I’ll probably never see him again.”
He didn’t look at me when he said, “Do you want to? See him again?”
“I d
on’t know. … I’m not sure. Maybe. Maybe not.”
Jeremiah put the TV on mute. He turned and looked at me then. “I don’t think he’s the guy for you.” His eyes looked somber. I’d never seen him look so somber.
Lightly I said, “Yeah, I doubt it too.”
“Belly …,” he began. He took a deep breath of air and puffed up his cheeks, and then he blew it out so hard the hair on his forehead fluttered. I could feel my heart start to pound—something was going to happen. He was going to say something I didn’t want to hear. He was going to go and change everything.
I opened my mouth to speak, to interrupt him before he said something he couldn’t take back, and he shook his head. “Just let me get this out.”
He took another deep breath. “You’ve always been my best friend. But now it’s more. I see you as more than that.” He continued, scooting closer to me. “You’re cooler than any other girl I’ve ever met, and you’re there for me. You’ve always been there for me. I … I can count on you. And you can count on me too. You know that.”
I nodded. I could hear him talking, see his lips moving, but my mind was working a million miles a minute. This was Jeremiah. My buddy, my best pal. Practically my brother. The hugeness of it all made it hard to breathe. I could barely look at him. Because I didn’t. I didn’t see him that way. There was only one person. For me that person was Conrad.
“And I know you’ve always liked Conrad, but you’re over him now, right?” His eyes looked so hopeful, it killed me, killed me to not answer him the way he wanted me to.
“I … I don’t know,” I whispered.
He sucked in his breath, the way he did when he was frustrated. “But why? He doesn’t see you that way. I do.”
I could feel my eyes starting to tear up, which wasn’t fair. I couldn’t cry. It was just that he was right. Conrad didn’t see me that way. I only wished I could see Jeremiah the way he saw me. “I know. I wish I didn’t. But I do. I still do.”
Jeremiah moved away from me. He wouldn’t look at me; his eyes looked everywhere but at mine. “He’ll only end up hurting you,” he said, and his voice cracked.
“I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me. I couldn’t take it if you were mad at me.”
He sighed. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just—why does it always have to be Conrad?”
Then he got up, and left me sitting there.
chapter forty-one
AGE 12
Mr. Fisher had taken the boys on one of their overnight deep-sea fishing trips. Jeremiah couldn’t go; he’d been sick earlier that day so Susannah made him stay home. The two of us spent the night on the old plaid couch in the basement eating chips and dip and watching movies.
In between The Terminator and Terminator 2, Jeremiah said bitterly, “He likes Con better than me, you know.”
I had gotten up to change the DVDs, and I turned around and said, “Huh?”
“It’s true. I don’t really care anyway. I think he’s a dick,” Jeremiah said, picking at a thread on the flannel blanket in his lap.
I thought he was kind of a dick too, but I didn’t say so. You’re not supposed to join in when someone is bashing his father. I just put the DVD in and sat back down. Taking a corner of the blanket, I said, “He’s not so bad.”
Jeremiah gave me a look. “He is, and you know it. Con thinks he’s God or something. So does your brother.”
“It’s just that your dad is so different from our dad,” I said defensively. “Your dad takes you guys fishing and, like, plays football with you. Our dad doesn’t do that kind of stuff. He likes chess.”
He shrugged. “I like chess.”
I hadn’t known that about him. I liked it too. My dad had taught me to play when I was seven. I wasn’t bad either. I had never joined chess club, even though I’d kind of wanted to. Chess club was for the nose-pickers. That’s what Taylor called them.
“And Conrad likes chess too,” Jeremiah said. “He just tries to be what our dad wants. And the thing is, I don’t even think he likes football, not like I do. He’s just good at it like he is at everything.”
There was nothing I could say to that. Conrad was good at everything. I grabbed a handful of chips and stuffed them into my mouth so I wouldn’t have to say anything.
“One day I’m gonna be better than him,” Jeremiah said.
I didn’t see that happening. Conrad was too good.
“I know you like Conrad,” Jeremiah said suddenly.
I swallowed the chips. They tasted like rabbit feed all of a sudden. “No, I don’t,” I said. “I don’t like Conrad.”
“Yes, you do,” he said, and his eyes looked so knowing and wise. “Tell the truth. No secrets, remember?” No secrets was something Jeremiah and I had been saying for pretty much forever. It was a tradition, the same way Jeremiah’s drinking my sweet cereal milk was tradition—just one of those things we said to each other when it was just the two of us.
“No, I really don’t like him,” I insisted. “I like him like a friend. I don’t look at him like that.”
“Yes, you do. You look at him like you love him.”
I couldn’t take those knowing eyes looking at me for one more second. Hotly I said, “You just think that because you’re jealous of anything Conrad does.”
“I’m not jealous. I just wish I could be as good as him,” he said softly. Then he burped and turned the movie on.
The thing was, Jeremiah was right. I did love him. I knew the exact moment it became real too. Conrad got up early to make a special belated Father’s Day breakfast, only Mr. Fisher hadn’t been able to come down the night before. He wasn’t there the next morning the way he was supposed to be. Conrad cooked anyway, and he was thirteen and a terrible cook, but we all ate it. Watching him serving rubbery eggs and pretending not to be sad, I thought to myself, I will love this boy forever.
chapter forty-two
He’d gone running on the beach, something he’d started doing recently—I knew because I’d watched him from my window two mornings in a row. He was wearing gym shorts and a T-shirt; sweat had formed in a circle in the middle of his back. He’d left about an hour before, I’d seen him take off, and he was running back to the house now.
I walked out there, to the porch, without a real plan in my mind. All I knew was that the summer was almost over. Soon it would be too late. We would drive away, and I would never have told him. Jeremiah had laid it all out on the line. Now it was my turn. I couldn’t go another whole year not having told him. I’d been so afraid of change, of anything tipping our little summer sailboat—but Jeremiah had already done that, and look, we were still alive. We were still Belly and Jeremiah.
I had to, I had to do it, because to not do it would kill me. I couldn’t keep yearning for something, for someone who might or might not like me back. I had to know for sure. Now or never.
He didn’t hear me coming up behind him. He was bent down loosening the laces of his sneakers.
“Conrad,” I said. He didn’t hear me, so I said it again, louder. “Conrad.”
He looked up, startled. Then he stood up straight. “Hey.”
Catching him off guard felt like a good sign. He had a million walls. Maybe if I just started talking, he wouldn’t have time to build up a new one.
I sucked in my lips and began to speak. I said the first words I thought of, the ones that had been on my heart since the beginning. I said, “I’ve loved you since I was ten years old.”
He blinked.
“You’re the only boy I’ve ever thought about. My whole life, it’s always been you. You taught me how to dance, you came out and got me the time I swam out too far. Do you remember that? You s
tayed with me and you pushed me back to shore, and the whole time, you kept saying, ‘We’re almost there,’ and I believed it. I believed it because you were the one who was saying it, and I believed everything you ever said. Compared to you, everyone else is saltines, even Cam. And I hate saltines. You know that. You know everything about me, even this, which is that I really love you.”
I waited, standing in front of him. I was out of breath. I felt like my heart would explode, it was so full. I pulled my hair into a ponytail with my hand and held it like that, still waiting for him to say something, anything.
It felt like a thousand years before he spoke.
“Well you shouldn’t. I’m not the one. Sorry.”
And that was all he said. I let out a big breath of air and stared at him. “I don’t believe you,” I said. “You like me too; I know it.” I’d seen the way he’d looked at me when I was with Cam, I’d seen it with my own two eyes.
“Not the way you want me to,” he said. He sighed, and in this sad way, like he felt sorry for me, he said, “You’re still such a kid, Belly.”
“I’m not a kid anymore! You just wish I was, so that way you wouldn’t have to deal with any of it. That’s why you’ve been mad at me this whole summer,” I said, my voice getting louder. “You do like me. Admit it.”
“You’re crazy,” he said, laughing a little as he walked away from me.
But not this time. I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. I was sick and tired of his brooding James Dean routine. He had feelings for me. I knew it. I was going to make him say it.
I grabbed his shirt sleeve. “Admit it. You were mad when I started hanging out with Cam. You wanted me to still be your little admirer.”