by Jenny Han
The last time I had been to Putt Putt was when I was thirteen and I’d gotten my period for the first time. I was wearing white cutoffs, and Steven had been scared. He’d thought I had cut myself or something—for a second, I’d thought so too. After that, after getting my period by the fourth hole, I never wanted to go back. Not even when the boys invited me. So going with Cam felt like I was reclaiming Putt Putt, taking it back for my twelve-year-old self. It had even been my idea to go.
My mother said, “Can you be home early? I want us to spend a little time together, maybe watch a movie.”
“How early? You guys go to bed at, like, nine.”
My mother took her sunglasses off and looked at me. She had two indentations on her nose where her glasses had been. “I wish you’d spend more time at the house.”
“I’m at the house right now,” I reminded her.
She acted like she didn’t hear me. “You’ve been spending so much time with this person—”
“You said you liked him!” I looked at Susannah for support, and she looked back at me sympathetically.
My mother sighed, and Susannah broke in then, saying, “We do like Cam. We just miss you, Belly. We completely accept the fact that you have an actual life.” She adjusted her floppy straw hat and winked at me. “We just want you to include us a little bit!”
I smiled in spite of myself. “Okay,” I said, lying back down on the towel. “I’ll come home early. We’ll watch a movie.”
“Done,” my mother said.
I closed my eyes and put my headphones on. Maybe she had a point. I had been spending all my time with Cam. Maybe she really did miss me. It was just, she couldn’t take for granted that I was going to spend every night at home like I had every other summer. I was almost sixteen, practically an adult. My mother had to accept that I couldn’t be her bean forever.
They thought I was asleep when they started talking. But I wasn’t. I could hear what they were saying, even over the music.
“Conrad’s been behaving like a little shit,” my mother said in a low voice. “He left all these beer bottles out on the deck this morning for me to clean up. It’s getting out of hand.”
Susannah sighed. “I think he knows something’s up. He’s been like this for months now. He’s so sensitive, I know it’s going to hit him harder.”
“Don’t you think it’s time you told the boys?” Whenever my mother said “Don’t you think,” all she really meant was, “I think. So you should too.”
“When the summer’s over. That’s soon enough.”
“Beck,” my mother began, “I think it might be time.”
“I’ll know when it’s time,” Susannah said. “Don’t push me, Laur.”
I knew there was nothing my mother could say that would change her mind. Susannah was soft, but she was resolute, stubborn as a mule when she wanted to be. She was pure steel underneath all her softness.
I wanted to tell them both, Conrad knows already and so does Jeremiah, but I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. It wasn’t my business to tell.
Susannah wanted it to be some kind of perfect summer, where the parents were still together and everything was the way it had always been. Those kinds of summers don’t exist anymore, I wanted to tell her.
chapter thirty-five
Around sunset, Cam came and picked me up for mini golf. I waited for him on the front porch, and when he pulled into the driveway, I ran up to his car. Instead of going to the passenger side, I walked right around to the driver’s side. “Can I drive?” I asked. I knew he’d say yes.
He shook his head at me and said, dryly, “How does anybody ever say no to you?”
I batted my eyelashes at him. “No one ever does,” I said, even though it wasn’t true, not even a little bit.
I opened the car door, and he scooted over.
Backing out of the driveway, I told him, “I have to be home early tonight.”
“No problem.” He cleared his throat. “And, um, can you slow down a little? The speed limit is thirty-five on this road.”
As I drove, he kept looking over at me and smiling. “What? Why are you smiling?” I asked. I felt like covering my face up with my T-shirt.
“Instead of a ski-slope nose, you have, like, a little bunny slope.” He reached over and tapped it. I slapped his hand away.
“I hate my nose,” I told him.
Cam looked perplexed. “Why? Your nose is cute. It’s the imperfections that make things beautiful.”
I wondered if that meant he thought I was beautiful. I wondered if that was why he liked me, my imperfections.
We ended up staying out later than I’d planned. The people in front of us took forever on each hole; they were a couple, and they kept stopping to kiss. It was annoying. I wanted to tell them, Mini golf is not where you go to hook up. That’s what the drive-in’s for. And then after, Cam was hungry, so we stopped for fried clams, and by that time it was after ten, and I knew my mother and Susannah would already be asleep.
He let me drive home. I didn’t even have to ask; he just handed me the keys. In the driveway when we got home, I turned off the ignition. All of the lights in the house were off except for Conrad’s. “I don’t want to go inside yet,” I told Cam.
“I thought you had to be home early.”
“I did. I do. I’m just not ready to go inside yet.” I turned on the radio, and we sat there for five minutes listening.
Then Cam cleared his throat and said, “Can I kiss you?”
I wished he hadn’t asked. I wished he’d just done it. Asking made everything feel awkward; it put me in a position where I had to say yes. I wanted to roll my eyes at him but instead I said, “Um, okay. But next time, please don’t ask. Asking someone if they want to kiss you is weird. You’re supposed to just do it.”
I regretted saying it right away, as soon as I saw the look on Cam’s face. “Never mind,” he said, red-faced. “Forget I asked.”
“Cam, I’m sorr—” Before I could finish, he leaned over and kissed me. His cheek was stubbly and it felt kind of rough but nice.
When it was over, he said, “Okay?”
I smiled and said, “Okay.” I unbuckled my seat belt. “Good night.”
Then I got out of the car, and he came around and took the driver’s seat. We hugged, and I found myself wishing that Conrad was watching. Even though it didn’t matter, even though I didn’t even like him anymore. I just wanted him to know I didn’t like him anymore, to really know it. To see it with his own two eyes.
I ran up to the front door, and I didn’t have to turn around to know that Cam would wait until I was inside before he drove away.
The next day my mother didn’t mention anything, but she didn’t have to. She could make me feel guilty without saying a word.
chapter thirty-six
My birthday always marked the beginning of the end of summer. It was my final thing to look forward to. And this summer I was turning sixteen. Sweet sixteen was supposed to be special, a really big deal—Taylor was renting out a reception hall for hers, and her cousin was DJ-ing and she was inviting the whole school. She’d had it planned for ages. My birthdays here were always the same: cake; gag gifts from the boys; and looking through all the old photo albums, with me sandwiched between Susannah and my mom on the couch. Every birthday I’ve ever had has been here, in this house. There are pictures of my mother sitting on the porch pregnant, with a glass of iced tea and a wide brimmed hat, and there’s me, inside her belly. There are pictures of the four of us, Conrad, Steven, Jeremiah, and me, running around on the beach—I was naked except for my birthday hat, chasing after them. My mother didn’t put me in a bathing suit until I was four ye
ars old. She just let me run around wild.
I didn’t expect this birthday to be any different. Which, was comforting and also kind of depressing. Except, Steven wouldn’t be there—my first birthday without him trying to elbow in and blow out my candles before I could.
I already knew what my parents were giving me: Steven’s old car; they were getting it detailed with a new paint job and everything. When I got back to school, I would take driver’s ed, and soon I wouldn’t have to ask for a ride ever again.
I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone back home remembered it was my birthday. Besides Taylor. She remembered; she always did. She called me at exactly 9:02 in the morning to sing happy birthday, every year. That was nice and all, but the trouble with having a summer birthday and being away was you couldn’t have a party with all your school friends. You didn’t get the balloons taped to your locker or any of it. I’d never really minded, but just then I did, a little.
My mother told me I could invite Cam over. But I didn’t. I didn’t even tell him it was my birthday. I didn’t want him to feel like he had to do something. But it was more than that. I figured that if this birthday was going to be like every other one, I might as well really have it be like every other one. It should just be us, my summer family.
When I woke up that morning, the house smelled like butter and sugar. Susannah had baked a birthday cake. It was three layers and it was pink with a white border. She wrote in loopy white frosting HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BELLS. She’d lit a few sparkler candles on top, and they sizzled and sparked like mad fireflies. She and my mother started to sing, and Susannah gestured for Conrad and Jeremiah to join in. They both did, off-key and obnoxious.
“Make a wish, Belly,” my mother said.
I was still in my pajamas, and I couldn’t stop smiling. The past four birthdays I had wished for the same thing. Not this year. This year I would wish for something else. I watched the sparklers die down, and then I closed my eyes and blew.
“Open my present first,” Susannah urged. She thrust a small box wrapped in pink paper into my hands.
My mother looked at her questioningly. “What did you do, Beck?”
She smiled a mysterious smile and squeezed my wrist. “Open it, honey.”
I ripped the paper off and opened the box. It was a pearl necklace, a whole strand of tiny creamy white pearls with a shiny gold clasp. It looked old, not like something you could buy today. It was like my father’s Swiss grandfather clock, beautifully crafted, right down to the clasp. It was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.
“Oh my gosh,” I breathed, lifting it up.
I looked at Susannah, who was beaming, and then at my mother, who I thought would say it was much too extravagant, but she didn’t. She smiled and said, “Are those—”
“Yes.” Susannah turned to me and said, “My father gave me those for my sixteenth birthday. I want you to have them.”
“Really?” I looked back at my mother, to make sure it was okay. She nodded. “Wow, thank you, Susannah. They’re beautiful.”
She took them from me and fastened them around my neck. I’d never worn pearls before. I couldn’t stop touching them.
Susannah clapped her hands. She didn’t like to linger too much after she’d given a gift; she just enjoyed the giving of it. “Okay, what’s next? Jeremiah? Con?”
Conrad shifted uncomfortably. “I forgot. Sorry, Belly.”
I blinked. He’d never forgotten my birthday before. “That’s okay,” I said. I couldn’t even look at him.
“Open mine next,” Jeremiah said. “Although, after that, mine kind of sucks in comparison. Thanks a lot, Mom.” He handed me a small box and leaned back in his chair.
I shook the box. “Okay, what could it be? Plastic poop? A license plate key chain?”
He smiled. “You’ll see. Yolie helped me pick it out.”
“Who’s Yolie?” Susannah asked.
“A girl who’s in love with Jeremiah,” I said, opening the box.
Inside, nestled on a bed of cotton, was a small charm, a tiny silver key.
chapter thirty-seven
AGE 11
“Happy birthday, butthead,” Steven sang, dumping a pail full of sand into my lap. A sand crab wriggled out of the sand and crawled onto my thigh. I let out a shriek and jumped up. I chased Steven down the beach, white hot fury pumping through my veins. I wasn’t fast enough to catch him; I never was. He ran circles around me.
“Come and blow out your candles,” my mother called.
As soon as Steven turned around to head back to the towel, I leapt onto his back and with one arm around his neck, I pulled his hair as hard as I could.
“Ow!” he howled, stumbling. I clung to his back like a monkey, even with Jeremiah grabbing my foot and trying to pull me off. Conrad fell to his knees, laughing.
“Children,” Susannah called. “There’s cake!”
I hopped off of Steven’s back and scrambled over to the blanket.
“I’m gonna get you!” he yelled, chasing after me.
I hid behind my mother. “You can’t. It’s my birthday.” I stuck my tongue out at him. The boys fell onto the blanket, wet and sandy.
“Mom,” Steven complained. “She pulled out a hunk of my hair.”
“Steven, you have a whole head full. I wouldn’t worry about it.” My mother lit the candles on the cake she’d baked that morning. It was a lopsided Duncan Hines yellow cake with chocolate frosting. She had messy handwriting, so “Happy Birthday” looked like “Happy Bimday.”
I blew out the candles before Steven could try to “help” me. I didn’t want him stealing my wish. I wished for Conrad, of course.
“Open your presents, Smelly,” Steven said sullenly. I already knew what he’d gotten me. A stick of deodorant. He’d wrapped it in Kleenex; I could see right through the tissue.
I ignored him and reached for a small flat box wrapped in seashell paper. It was from Susannah, so I knew it would be good. I tore off the wrapping paper, and inside there was a silver charm bracelet, from the store Susannah loved, Rheingold’s, where they sold fancy china and crystal candy dishes. On the bracelet there were five charms: a conch shell, a bathing suit, a sand castle, a pair of sunglasses, and a horseshoe.
“For how lucky we are to have you in our lives,” Susannah said, touching the horseshoe.
I lifted it up, and the charms glinted and sparkled in the sunlight. “I love it.”
My mother was silent. I knew what she was thinking. She was thinking that Susannah had overdone it, that she’d spent too much money. I felt guilty for loving the bracelet so much. My mother had bought me sheet music and CDs. We didn’t have as much money as they did, and in that moment I finally understood what that meant.
chapter thirty-eight
“I love it,” I said.
I ran upstairs to my room and went straight for the music box on my dresser, where I kept my charm bracelet. I grabbed the bracelet and ran back downstairs.
“See?” I said, putting the key charm on and fastening it onto my wrist.
“It’s a key, because you’ll be driving soon. Get it?” Jeremiah said, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands behind his head.
I got it. I smiled to show him I did.
Conrad leaned in for a closer look. “Nice,” he said.
I held it in the palm of my other hand. I couldn’t stop looking at it. “I love it,” I said again. “But it’s from Rheingold’s. It must have been really expensive.”
“I saved up all summer to buy it,” he said solemnly.
I stared at him. “No, you didn’t!”
He broke into a smile. “Fooled ya. Gullible as ever, aren’t you?
”
Punching him on the arm, I said, “I didn’t believe you anyway, jerk.” Even though I had, for a second.
Jeremiah rubbed his arm where I’d punched it. “It wasn’t that expensive. Anyway, I’m big-time now, remember? Don’t worry about me. I’m just glad you like it. Yolie said you would.”
I hugged him fiercely. “It’s perfect.”
“What a wonderful gift, Jere,” Susannah said. “It’s better than my old necklace, that’s for sure.”
He laughed. “Yeah, right,” he said, but I could tell he was pleased.
My mother got up and started cutting the cake. She wasn’t a very good cake cutter: The pieces were too big, and they fell apart on the sides. “Who wants cake?” she said, licking her finger.
“I’m not hungry,” Conrad said abruptly. He stood up, looking at his watch. “I’ve gotta get dressed for work. Happy birthday, Belly.”
He went upstairs, and nobody said anything for a minute. Then my mother said, loudly, “This cake is delicious. Have some, Beck.” She pushed a piece in front of her.
Smiling faintly, Susannah said, “I’m not hungry either. You know what they say about the cook not having a taste for her own cooking. But you guys eat.”
I took a big bite. “Mmm. Yellow cake, my favorite.”
“From scratch,” my mother said.
chapter thirty-nine
Conrad invited Nicole, Red Sox girl, over to the house. Our house. I couldn’t believe Red Sox girl was at our house. It was bizarre to have a girl there other than me.
It was midafternoon. I was out on the deck, sitting at the patio table, eating a Doritos sandwich when they drove up. She was wearing short shorts and a white T-shirt, and a pair of sunglasses on top of her head. The Red Sox hat was nowhere in sight. She looked chic. She looked like she belonged. Unlike me, in my old Cuz Beach shirt that doubled as a pajama dress. I thought he’d at least bring her inside the house, but they hung out on the other side of the deck, lying on the lounge chairs. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could hear her giggling like crazy.
