by Jenny Han
“I wanted to.”
“Because you’re a good person and you wanted to help Con,” he said.
“I wanted to help you, too,” I told him. “I meant, I still do. You shouldn’t have to deal with this on your own.”
For one brief moment, he didn’t look like himself. He looked like his father. “Who else will?” And then he smiled at me, and he was Jeremiah again. Susannah’s boy, sunshine and smiles. Her little angel.
I learned to drive stick on Jeremiah’s car. It felt good to be in the driver’s seat again. Instead of turning on the AC, I rolled down the windows and let the salty air in. I drove into town slowly, and I parked the car by the old Baptist church.
There were kids running around in bathing suits and shorts, and also parents in khaki, and golden retrievers without leashes. It was probably the first weekend since school let out, for most of them. There was just that feeling in the air. I smiled when I saw a boy trailing after two older girls, probably his sisters. “Wait up,” he yelled, his flip flops slapping along the pavement. They just walked faster, not looking back.
My first stop was the general store. I used to spend hours in there, mulling over the penny candy. Each choice seemed vitally important. The boys would dump candy in haphazardly, a scoop of this, a handful of that. But I was careful, ten big Swedish Fish, five malt balls, a medium-size scoop of pear Jelly Bellys. For old times’ sake, I filled a bag. I put in Goobers for Jeremiah, a Clark Bar for Conrad, and even though he wasn’t here, a Lemonhead for Steven. It was a candy memorial, a tribute to the Cousins of our childhood, when picking penny candy was the biggest and best part of our day.
I was standing in line waiting to pay when I heard someone say, “Belly?”
I turned around. It was Maureen O’Riley, who owned the fancy hat shop in town—Maureen’s Millinery. She was older than my parents, in her late fifties, and she was friendly with my mother and Susannah. She took her hats very seriously.
We hugged, and she smelled the same, like Murphy Oil Soap.
“How’s your mother? How’s Susannah?” she asked me.
“My mother’s fine,” I told her. I moved up in line, away from Maureen.
She moved up with me. “And Susannah?”
I cleared my throat. “Her cancer came back, and she passed away.”
Maureen’s tan face wrinkled up in alarm. “I hadn’t heard. I’m sorry to hear that. I was very fond of her. When?”
“Beginning of May,” I said. It was almost my turn to pay, and then I could leave and this conversation would be over.
Then Maureen clasped my hand, and my first impulse was to snatch it away, even though I’d always liked Maureen. I just didn’t want to stand in the general store, talking about Susannah being dead like it was town gossip. We were talking about Susannah here.
She must have sensed it, because she let go. She said, “I wish I’d known. Please send my condolences to the boys and your mother. And Belly, come by the store and see me sometime. We’ll get you fitted for a hat. I think it’s time you had one, something with a trim.”
“I’ve never worn a hat,” I said, fumbling for my wallet.
“It’s time,” Maureen said again. “Something to set you off. Come by, I’ll take care of you. A present.”
After, I walked through town slowly, stopping at the bookstore and the surf shop. I walked aimlessly, dipping my hand into the candy bag on occasion. I didn’t want to run into anybody else but I was in no hurry to get back to the house. It was obvious Conrad didn’t want me around. Was I making things worse? The way he’d looked at me . . . it was harder than I’d thought it was going to be, seeing him again. Being in that house again. A million times harder.
When I got back to the house with the rolls in a greasy paper bag, Jeremiah and Conrad were drinking beer out on the back deck. The sun was setting. It was going to be a beautiful sunset.
I threw the keys and the bag down on the table and fell onto a lounge chair. “Pass me a beer,” I said. It wasn’t because I particularly liked beer. I didn’t. It was because I wanted to be a part of them, the way having a few beers out back had brought them together in some small way. Just like the old days, all I wanted was to be included.
I expected Conrad to glare at me and tell me no, he would not be passing me any beer. When he didn’t, I was surprised to feel disappointed. Jeremiah reached into the cooler and threw me an Icehouse. He winked at me. “Since when does our Belly Button drink?” he said.
“I’m almost seventeen,” I reminded him. “Don’t you think I’m too old for you to call me that?”
“I know how old you are,” Jeremiah said.
Conrad reached into the paper bag and pulled out a sandwich. He bit into it hungrily, and I wondered if he had eaten anything all day.
“You’re welcome,” I told him. I couldn’t help myself. He hadn’t looked my way once since I got back. I wanted to make him acknowledge me.
He grunted thanks, and Jeremiah shot me a warning look. Like, Don’t piss him off just when things are good.
Jeremiah’s phone buzzed on the table, and he didn’t move to pick it up. Conrad said, “I’m not leaving this house. Tell him that.”
My head jerked up. What did that mean, he wasn’t leaving? Like, ever? I stared hard at Conrad, but his face was as impassive as ever.
Jeremiah stood up, picked up the phone, and walked back into the house. He closed the sliding door behind him. For the first time, Conrad and I were left to ourselves. The air between us felt heavy, and I wondered if he was sorry for what he’d said earlier. I wondered if I should say something, try and fix things. But what would I say? I didn’t know if there was anything I could say.
So I didn’t try. Instead I let the moment pass and I just sighed and leaned back onto my chair. The sky was pinky gold. I had the feeling that there was nothing more beautiful than this, that this particular sunset matched the beauty of anything in this world, ten times over. I could feel all the tension of the day drifting away from me and out to sea. I wanted to memorize it all in case I didn’t get to come back again. You never know the last time you’ll see a place. A person.
chapter eighteen
We sat around watching TV for a while. Jeremiah didn’t make any more moves to talk to Conrad, and no one mentioned school or Mr. Fisher. I wondered if Jeremiah was waiting to be alone with him again.
I forced myself to yawn. To no one in particular, I said, “I’m so tired.”
As soon as I said it, I realized I really was. I was so tired. It felt like it had been the longest day ever. Even though all I really did was ride around in a car, I felt completely drained of energy.
“I’m going to sleep,” I announced, yawning again, this time for real.
“Good night,” Jeremiah said, and Conrad didn’t say anything.
As soon as I got to my room, I opened my overnight bag, and I was horrified when I saw what was inside. There was Taylor’s brand-new gingham bikini, her prized platform sandals, an eyelet sundress, the cutoffs that her dad referred to as “denim underwear,” a few silky tops, and instead of the big T-shirt I’d been looking forward to wearing to sleep, a pink pajama set with little red hearts. Little shorts and a matching tank top. I wanted to kill her. I’d assumed she was adding to what I’d already packed, not replacing it. The only thing she’d left of mine was the underwear.
The thought of prancing around the house in those pajamas, being seen on the way to brush my teeth in the morning, made me want to hit her. Hard. I knew that Taylor meant well. She thought she was doing me a favor. Giving up her platform sandals for the night was altruistic, for Taylor. But I was still mad.
It was just like the thing with Cory. Taylor did what she wanted to do, and she didn’t care what I thought about it. She never cared what I thought about it. It wasn’t just her fault though, because I let her.
After I brushed my teeth, I put on Taylor’s pajamas and got into bed. I was deliberating over whether or not to read a book before I
went to sleep, one of the old paperbacks on my shelf, when someone knocked on my door. I pulled the covers up to my neck and said, “Come in!”
It was Jeremiah. He closed the door behind him and sat at the foot of my bed. “Hey,” he whispered.
I loosened the grip on my covers. It was only Jeremiah. “Hey. What’s going on? Did you talk to him?”
“Not yet. I’m gonna ease up on him tonight and try again tomorrow. I’m just trying to lay down the groundwork first, plant some seeds.” He gave me a conspiratorial look. “You know how he is.”
I did. “Okay. That sounds good.”
He held his hand out for a high five. “Don’t worry. We’ve got this.”
I high-fived him. “We’ve got this,” I repeated. I could hear the doubt in my voice, but Jeremiah just smiled like it was already a done deal.
chapter nineteen
jeremiah
When Belly got up to go to bed, I knew she wanted me to stay and try to talk to Conrad about school. I knew it because when we were little kids, we used to practice ESP on each other. Belly was convinced I could read her mind and she could read mine. The truth was, I could just read Belly. Whenever she was about to tell a lie, her left eye squinted a little. Whenever she was nervous, she sucked in her cheeks before she spoke. She was an easy read, always had been.
I looked over at Conrad. “Wanna get up early and surf tomorrow?” I asked him.
“Sure,” he said.
Tomorrow I would talk to him about school and how important it was to go back. Everything would work out.
We watched some more TV, and when Conrad fell asleep on the couch, I went upstairs to my room. Down the hall, Belly’s light was still on. I went over and stood outside her door and knocked softly. I felt like such an idiot standing outside her doorway, knocking. When we were kids, we just ran in and out of each other’s rooms without thinking. I wished it was still as simple as that.
“Come in,” she said.
I walked in and sat at the edge of her bed. When I realized she was already in her pajamas, I almost turned right back around and left. I had to remind myself that I’d seen her in her pajamas a million times before, and what was the big deal? But she used to always wear a big T-shirt like the rest of us, and now she was wearing some skimpy pink top with little straps. I wondered if it was comfortable to sleep in.
chapter twenty
july 4
When I woke up the next morning, I didn’t get out of bed right away. I just laid there and pretended like it was any other morning at the summer house. My sheets smelled the same; my stuffed bear, Junior Mint, was still sitting on the dresser. It was just like always. Susannah and my mother were taking a walk on the beach, and the boys were eating all the blueberry muffins and leaving me with my mother’s Kashi cereal. There would be about an inch of milk left, and no juice, either. It used to infuriate me; now I smiled at the thought.
But it was all make-believe. I knew that. There was no mother, no brother, no Susannah here.
Even though I had gone to bed early the night before, I slept late. It was already almost eleven. I had slept for twelve hours. I hadn’t slept that well in weeks.
I got out of bed and went to look out my window. Looking out my bedroom window at the summer house always made me feel better. I wished every window looked out at an ocean, nothing but miles and miles of sand and sea. Down the beach, Jeremiah and Conrad were bobbing on surfboards in black wetsuits. It was such a familiar sight. And just like that, I was hopeful. Maybe Jeremiah was right. Maybe Conrad would come back with us after all.
And then I would go back home, away from him and from everything he reminded me of. I would lay out at the neighborhood pool and I would hang by the snack bar with Taylor, and pretty soon the summer would go by. I would forget how it used to be.
This time really was the last time.
Before I did anything else, I called Taylor. I explained how we were all in Cousins, how we just needed to convince Conrad to go back to school and finish out summer session.
The first thing she said was, “Belly, what do you think you’re doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. This whole situation is retarded. You should be at home where you belong.”
I sighed. No matter how many times I asked her not to say “retarded,” she still did. She even had a little cousin with Down Syndrome. I think she did it on purpose because she knew it bothered me.
“What do you care if Conrad is a college dropout?” she said. “Let him be a loser if he wants.”
Even though I knew no one could hear me, I lowered my voice. “He’s going through a lot right now. He needs us.”
“He needs his brother. Who, by the way, is hotter than him, hello! Conrad doesn’t need you. He cheated on you, remember?”
I was whispering now. “He didn’t cheat on me and you know it. We were already broken up. It’s not like we were ever even a real couple in the first place.” The last part was hard to say.
“Oh, right—he didn’t cheat on you, he dumped you right after the prom. What an amazing guy. Gaylord.”
I ignored her. “Will you please still cover for me if my mom calls?”
She sniffed. “Duh. I happen to be a loyal friend.”
“Thank you. Oh, and thank you so much for taking all my clothes.”
“You’re welcome,” she said all smug. “And Belly?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t lose sight of the mission at hand.”
“Well, Jeremiah’s been working on him—”
“Not that, dummy. I’m talking about the mission . You have to get Conrad to want you back, and then you have to rebuff him. Brutally.”
I was glad we were on the phone so she couldn’t see me roll my eyes. But the thing was, she had a point. Taylor never got hurt because she was the one who was in charge. She called the shots. Boys wanted her, not the other way around. She was always quoting that line from Pretty Woman , the one about being a hooker. “I say who, I say when, I say who.”
It wasn’t that the idea didn’t appeal to me. It was just that it would never work. Getting Conrad to notice me the first time around, however briefly, had been nearly impossible. It wouldn’t work a second time.
After Taylor and I hung up, I called my mother. I told her that I was staying at Taylor’s house again that night, that she was still too upset for me to leave. My mother agreed. “You’re a good friend,” she said. There was relief in her voice when she asked me to tell Taylor’s parents hello.
She didn’t even question the lie. I could hear it over the phone: All she wanted was to be left alone with her grief.
After, I took a shower and put on the clothes Taylor picked for me. A white camisole with flowers embroidered across the top and her famous cutoffs.
I went downstairs with my hair still wet, tugging on my shorts. The boys were back inside, sitting at the kitchen table and eating dirt bombs, the big sugary cinnamon muffins that Susannah used to get up early to buy.
“Look what I got,” Jeremiah said. He pushed the white paper bag toward me.
I grabbed the bag and stuffed half a dirt bomb inside my mouth. It was still warm. “Yum,” I said, my mouth full. “So . . . what’s up?”
Jeremiah looked at Conrad hopefully. “Con?”
“You guys should head out soon, if you want to miss the Fourth of July traffic,” Conrad said, and it killed me to see the look on Jeremiah’s face.
“We’re not leaving without you,” Jeremiah told him.
Conrad exhaled. “Look, Jere, I appreciate you coming here. But as you can see, I’m fine. I’ve got everything under control.”
“Like hell you do. Con, if you’re not back on Monday for your exams, you’re out. The only reason you’re even taking summer school is those incompletes from last semester. If you don’t go back, then what?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure things out.”
“You keep saying that, but dude,
you haven’t figured out shit. All you’ve done so far is run away.”
The way Conrad glared at him, I knew that Jeremiah had said the right thing. Conrad’s old value system was still there, buried underneath the anger. The old Conrad would never give up.
It was my turn to say something. I took a breath and said, “So, how are you going to become a doctor without a college degree, Conrad?”
He did a double take, and then he stared at me. I stared right back. Yeah, I said it. I would say whatever I had to, even if it hurt him.
It was something I’d learned from watching Conrad in pretty much every game we’d ever played. At the first sign of weakness, you attack full force. You strike and you use every weapon in your arsenal, and you don’t let up. No mercy.
“I never said I was going to be a doctor,” he snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then tell us,” I said, and my heart was beating so fast.
No one spoke. For a minute, I thought he might really let us in.
And then finally, Conrad stood up. “There’s nothing to tell. I’m gonna head back out there. Thanks for the dirt bombs, Jere.” To me, he said, “You have sugar all over your face.” And just like that, he was up and sliding the porch door open.
When he was gone, Jeremiah shouted, “Shit!”
I said, “I thought you were gonna work on him!” It came out sounding more accusing than I meant it.
“You can’t push Conrad too hard, he just shuts down,” Jeremiah said, crumbling up the paper bag.
“He’s already shut down.”
I looked over at Jeremiah and he looked so defeated. I felt like bad for snapping at him. So I reached out and touched his arm, and said, “Don’t worry. We still have time. It’s only Saturday, right?”
“Right,” he said, but he didn’t say it like he meant it.
Neither of us said anything more. Like always, it was Conrad who dictated the mood of the house, how everyone else felt. Nothing would feel right again until things were right with Conrad.