It's Not Summer Without You

by Jenny Han

  We ate our cheeseburgers in silence. As soon as we were done, I said, “How do you want to do this, Conrad?”

  “Seeing as how I don’t want to do this at all, I’ll let you decide,” he said. He had mustard on his lower lip.

  “Okay, then.” I was prepared for this. “You’ll read. I’ll work on note cards for psych. Jeremiah will highlight.”

  “Jere doesn’t know how to highlight,” Conrad scoffed.

  “Hey!” Jeremiah said. Then, turning to me, he said, “He’s right. I suck at highlighting. I just end up highlighting the whole page. I’ll do note cards and you highlight, Bells.”

  I ripped open a pack of index cards and handed them to Jeremiah. Incredibly enough, Conrad listened. He picked his psych textbook out of the stack of books and he started to read.

  Sitting at the table, studying with his forehead creased, he looked like the old Conrad. The one who cared about things like exams and ironed shirts and being on time. The irony of all this was that Jeremiah had never been much of a student. He hated to study; he hated grades. Learning was, had always been, Conrad’s thing. From the very start, he was the one with the chemistry set, thinking up experiments for us to do as his scientist’s assistants. I remembered when he’d discovered the word “absurd,” and he went around saying it all the time. “That’s absurd ,” he’d say. Or “numbskull,” his favorite insult—he said that a lot too. The summer he was ten, he tried to work his way through the Encyclopedia Britannica . When we came back the next summer, he was at Q.

  I realized it suddenly. I missed him. All this time. When you got to the underneath of it, there it was. There it had always been. And even though he was sitting there only feet away, I missed him more than ever.

  Underneath my lashes I watched him, and I thought, Come back. Be the you I love and remember.

  chapter thirty-nine

  We were done with psychology and Conrad was working on his English paper with his headphones on when my phone buzzed. It was Taylor. I wasn’t sure if she was calling to apologize or to demand I bring her stuff back home immediately. Maybe a mixture of both. I turned off my phone.

  With all the house drama, I hadn’t thought about our fight once. I’d only been back at the summer house for a couple of days, and just like always, I’d already forgotten about Taylor and everything back home. What mattered to me was here. It had always been that way.

  But those things she’d said, they hurt. Maybe they were true. But I didn’t know if I could forgive her for saying them.

  It was getting dark out when Jeremiah leaned over and said in a low voice, “You know, if you wanted to, you could leave tonight. You could just take my car. I could pick it up tomorrow, after Conrad’s done with his exams. We could hang out or something.”

  “Oh, I’m not leaving yet. I want to go with you guys tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sure, I’m sure. Don’t you want me to come with you?” It was starting to hurt my feelings, the way he was acting like they were imposing on me, as if we weren’t family.

  “Yeah, course I do.” He paused like he was going to say something else.

  I poked him with my highlighter. “Are you scared that you’ll get in trouble with Mara ?” I was only halfway teasing. I still couldn’t believe he hadn’t told me he had a sort of girlfriend. I wasn’t entirely sure why it mattered, but it did. We were supposed to be close. Or at least we used to be. I should have known if he had a girlfriend or not. And how long had they been “broken up” anyway? She hadn’t been at the funeral, or at least I didn’t think so. It wasn’t like Jeremiah had gone around introducing her to people. What kind of girlfriend didn’t go to her boyfriend’s mom’s funeral? Even Conrad’s ex had come.

  Jeremiah glanced over at Conrad and lowered his voice. “I told you, Mara and I are done.”

  When I didn’t say anything, he said, “Come on, Belly. Don’t be mad.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about her,” I said, highlighting an entire paragraph. I didn’t look at him. “I can’t believe you kept it a secret.”

  “There wasn’t anything to tell, I swear.”

  “Ha!” I said. But I felt better. I snuck a peek at Jeremiah, and he looked back at me with anxious eyes.

  “Okay?”

  “Fine. It doesn’t affect me one way or the other. I just thought you would have told me a thing like that.”

  He relaxed back into his seat. “We weren’t that serious, trust me. She was just a girl. It wasn’t like how it was with Conrad and—”

  I started, and he broke off guiltily.

  It wasn’t like how it was with Conrad and Aubrey. He’d loved her. Once upon a time, he’d been crazy about her. He had never been that way with me. Never. But I had loved him. I loved him longer and truer than I had anyone in my whole life and I would probably never love anyone that way again. Which, to be honest, was almost a relief.

  chapter forty

  july 6

  When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I did was go to my window. Who knew how many more times I would see this view? We were all growing up. I would be at college soon. But the good thing, the comforting thing, was the knowing that it would still be here. The house wasn’t going away.

  Looking out the window, it was impossible to see where the sky ended and the ocean began. I’d forgotten how foggy the mornings could get here. I stood there and tried to get my fill, tried to make the memory last.

  Then I ran over to Jeremiah’s and Conrad’s rooms, banging on doors. “Wake up! Let’s get this show on the road!” I yelled, starting down the hall.

  I headed downstairs to get a glass of juice, and Conrad was sitting at the kitchen table, where he’d been when I went to sleep around four a.m. He was already dressed and making notes in a notebook.

  I started to back out of the kitchen, but he looked up. “Nice pjs,” he said.

  I flushed. I was still wearing Taylor’s stupid pajamas. Scowling, I said, “We’re leaving in twenty minutes, so be ready.”

  As I headed back upstairs, I heard Conrad say, “I already am.”

  If he said he was ready, he was ready. He would pass those exams. He’d probably ace them. Conrad didn’t fail at anything he set his mind to.

  An hour later, we were almost on our way. I was locking the glass sliding door on the porch when I heard Conrad say, “Should we?”

  I turned around, started to say, “Should we what?” when Jeremiah came out of nowhere.

  “Yeah. For old times’ sake,” Jeremiah said.

  Uh-oh. “No way,” I said. “No freaking way.”

  The next thing I knew, Jeremiah was grabbing my legs and Conrad took my arms, and together they swung me back, then forth. Jeremiah yelled, “Belly Flop!” and they flung me through the air, and as I landed in the pool, I thought, Well, there, they’re finally united on something.

  When I surfaced, I yelled, “Jerks!” It only made them laugh harder.

  I had to go back inside and change out of my soaked clothes, the clothes I wore the first day. I changed into Taylor’s sundress and her platform sandals. As I wrung out my hair with a hand towel, it was hard to be mad. I even smiled to myself. Possibly the last Belly Flop of my life, and Steven wasn’t there to partake.

  It was Jeremiah’s idea to take one car, so Conrad could keep studying on the way. Conrad didn’t even try to take the front seat, he just went straight to the back and started flipping through his note cards.

  Predictably, I cried as we drove away. I was just glad I was up front and wearing sunglasses so the boys couldn’t tease me about it. But I loved that house, and I hated to say good-bye. Because, it was more than just a house. It was every summer, every boat ride, every sunset. It was Susannah.

  We drove in near silence for a while, and then Britney Spears came on the radio, and I turned it up, loud. It went without saying that Conrad hated Britney Spears, but I didn’t care. I started to sing along, and Jeremiah did too.

&
nbsp; “Oh baby baby, I shouldn’t have let you go,” I sang, shimmying toward the dashboard.

  “Show me how you want it to be,” Jeremiah sang back, bouncing his shoulders.

  When the song changed, it was Justin Timberlake, and Jeremiah did an amazing Justin Timberlake. He was so un-self-conscious and easy with who he was. He made me want to be like that too.

  He sang to me, “And tell me how they got that pretty little face on that pretty little frame, girl.” I put my hand on my heart and fake-swooned for him, like a groupie.

  “Fast fast slow, whichever way you wanna run, girl.”

  I backed him up at the chorus. “This just can’t be summer love . . .”

  From the backseat, Conrad growled, “Can you guys please turn the music down? I’m trying to study here, remember?”

  I turned around and said, “Oh, sorry. Is it bothering you?”

  He looked at me with narrowed eyes.

  Without saying a word, Jeremiah turned the music down. We drove for another hour or so and then he said, “Do you need to pee or anything? I’m gonna stop at the next exit for gas.”

  I shook my head. “No, but I am thirsty.”

  We pulled into the gas station parking lot, and while Jeremiah filled the car up and Conrad napped, I ran into the convenience store. I got Jeremiah and me both Slurpees, half Coke and half cherry, a combination I had perfected over the years.

  When I got back to the car, I climbed in and handed Jeremiah his Slurpee. His whole face lit up. “Aw, thanks, Bells. What flavor did you get me?”

  “Drink it and see.”

  He took a long sip and nodded appreciatively. “Half Coke, half cherry, your specialty. Nice.”

  “Hey, remember that time—,” I started to say.

  “Yup,” he said. “My dad still doesn’t want anyone touching his blender.”

  I put my feet up on the dashboard and leaned back, sipping on my Slurpee. I thought to myself, Happiness is a Slurpee and a hot pink straw.

  From the back, Conrad said, irritably, “Where’s mine?”

  “I thought you were still asleep,” I said. “And you have to drink a Slurpee right away or it’ll melt, so . . . I didn’t see the point.”

  Conrad glared at me. “Well, at least let me have a sip.”

  “But you hate Slurpees.” Which was true. Conrad didn’t like sugary drinks, he never had.

  “I don’t care. I’m thirsty.”

  I handed him my cup and turned around and watched him drink. I was expecting him to make a face or something, but he just drank and handed it back. And then he said, “I thought your specialty was cocoa.”

  I stared at him. Did he really just say that? Did he remember? The way he looked back at me, one eyebrow raised, I knew he did. And this time, I was the one to look away.

  Because I remembered. I remembered everything.

  chapter forty-one

  When Conrad left to take his exam, Jeremiah and I bought turkey and avocado sandwiches on whole wheat bread and we ate them out on the lawn. I finished mine first; I was really hungry.

  When he was done, Jeremiah balled up the foil in his hand and threw it into the trashcan. He sat back down next to me in the grass. Out of nowhere, he said to me, “Why didn’t you come see me after my mom died?”

  I stuttered, “I d-d-did, I came to the funeral.”

  Jeremiah’s gaze on me was steady, unblinking. “That’s not what I mean.”

  “I—I didn’t think you’d want me there yet.”

  “No, it was because you didn’t want to be there. I wanted you there.”

  He was right. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to be anywhere near her house. Thinking about her made my heart hurt; it was too much. But the thought of Jeremiah waiting for me to call him, needing someone to talk to, that hurt so bad. “You’re right,” I told him. “I should’ve come.”

  Jeremiah had been there for Conrad, for Susannah. For me. And who had been there for him? Nobody. I wanted him to know I was here now.

  He looked up at the sky. “It’s hard, you know? Because I want to talk about her. But Conrad doesn’t want to, and I can’t talk to my dad, and you weren’t there either. We all love her, and nobody can talk about her.”

  “What do you want to say?”

  He leaned his head back, thinking. “That I miss her. I really miss her. She’s only been gone for two months, but it feels like longer. And it also feels like it just happened, like yesterday.”

  I nodded. That was exactly how it felt.

  “Do you think she’d be glad?”

  He meant glad about Conrad, the way we’d helped him. “Yeah.”

  “Me too.” Jeremiah hesitated. “So what now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, are you going to come back this summer?”

  “Well, sure. When my mom comes, I’ll come too.”

  He nodded. “Good. Because my dad was wrong, you know. It’s your house too. And Laure’s, and Steve’s. It’s all of ours.”

  Suddenly I was struck with the strangest sensation, of wanting, needing, to reach out and touch his cheek with the back of my hand. So he would know, so he would feel exactly how much those words meant to me. Because sometimes words were so pitifully inadequate, and I knew that, but I had to try anyway. I told him, “Thank you. That means—a lot.”

  He shrugged. “It’s just the truth.”

  We saw him coming from far away, walking fast. We stood up and waited for him.

  Jeremiah said, “Does it look like good news to you? It looks like good news to me.”

  It did to me, too.

  Conrad strode up to us, his eyes gleaming. “I killed it,” he said triumphantly. First time I’d seen him smile, really smile—joyful, carefree—since Susannah died. He and Jeremiah high-fived so hard the clap rang out in the air. And then Conrad smiled at me, and whirled me around so fast I almost tripped.

  I was laughing. “See? See? I told you!”

  Conrad picked me up and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing, just like he had the other night. I laughed as he ran, weaving left and right like he was on a football field. “Put me down!” I shrieked, yanking at the bottom of my dress.

  He did. He set me down on the ground gently. “Thanks,” he said, his hand still on my waist. “For coming.”

  Before I could tell him you’re welcome, Jeremiah walked over and said, “You still have one left, Con.” His voice was strained, and I straightened my dress.

  Conrad looked at his watch. “You’re right. I’m gonna head over to the psychology department. This will be a quick one. I’ll meet up with you guys in an hour or so.”

  As I watched him go, a million questions ran through my head. I felt dizzy, and not just from being spun around in the air.

  Abruptly, Jeremiah said, “I’m gonna go find a bathroom. I’ll meet you at the car.” He fished his keys out of his pocket and threw them to me.

  “Do you want me to wait?” I asked, but he was already walking away.

  He didn’t turn around. “No, just go ahead.”

  Instead of going straight to the car, I stopped at the student store. I bought a soda and a hoodie that said brown in block letters. Even though it wasn’t cold, I put it on.

  Jeremiah and I sat in the car, listening to the radio. It was starting to get dark. The windows were down and I could hear a bird calling somewhere out there. Conrad would be done with his last exam soon.

  “Nice hoodie, by the way,” Jeremiah said.

  “Thanks. I always wanted one from Brown.”

  Jeremiah nodded. “I remember.”

  I fingered my necklace, twisting it around my pinky. “I wonder . . .” I let my sentence trail off, waiting for Jeremiah to prod me, to ask me what it was I wondered about. But he didn’t. He didn’t ask me anything.

  He was silent.

  Sighing, I looked out the window and asked, “Does he ever talk about me? I mean, has he ever said anything?”

  “Don
’t,” he snapped.

  “Don’t what?” I turned toward him, confused.

  “Don’t ask me that. Don’t ask me about him.” Jeremiah spoke in a harsh, low voice, a tone he’d never used with me and one I didn’t recall him using with anybody. A muscle in his jaw twitched furiously.

  I recoiled and sank back into my seat. I felt as though he had slapped me. “What’s the matter with you?”

  He started to say something, maybe an apology and maybe not, and then he stopped, he leaned over and pulled me toward him—like by gravitational force. He kissed me, hard, and his skin was stubbly and rough against my cheek. My first thought was, I guess he didn’t have time to shave this morning , and then—I was kissing him back, my fingers winding through his soft yellow hair and my eyes closed. He kissed like he was drowning and I was air. It was passionate, and desperate, and like nothing I had ever experienced before.

  This was what people meant when they said the earth stopped turning. It felt like a world outside of that car, that moment, didn’t exist. It was just us.

  When he backed away, his pupils were huge and unfocused. He blinked, and then he cleared his throat. “Belly,” he said, and his voice was foggy. He didn’t say anything else, just my name.

  “Do you still—” Care. Think about me. Want me.

  Roughly, he said, “Yes. Yes, I still.”

  And then we were kissing again.

  He must have made some noise, because we both looked up at the same time.

  We sprang apart. There was Conrad, looking right at us. He had stopped short of the car. His face was white.

  He said, “No, don’t stop. I’m the one who’s interrupting.”

  He turned jerkily and started off. Jeremiah and I stared at each other in silent horror. And then my hand was on the door handle and I was on my feet. I didn’t look back.

  I ran after him and called his name, but Conrad didn’t turn around. I grabbed his arm and he finally looked at me, and there was so much hate in his eyes I winced. Even though, on some level, wasn’t this what I wanted? To make his heart hurt the way he made mine? Or maybe, to make him feel something for me other than pity or indifference. To make him feel something, anything.