by Jenny Han
Taylor waited for me to say something, to deny it at least, and when I didn’t, she spat out, “I can’t even believe how selfish you are, Belly.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You keep your summer house and your summer boys all to yourself and you don’t want to share anything with me. We finally get to spend a whole summer together and you don’t even care! All you care about is being in Cousins, with them.” She sounded so spiteful. But instead of feeling guilty the way I normally would, I just felt annoyed.
“Taylor,” I said.
“Quit saying my name like that.”
“Like how?”
“Like I’m a child.”
“Well, then maybe you shouldn’t act like one just because you aren’t invited somewhere.” As soon as I said it, I regretted it.
“Screw you, Belly! I put up with a lot. You are a really crappy best friend, you know that?”
I let out a breath. “Taylor … shut up.”
She gasped. “Don’t you dare tell me to shut up! I have been nothing but supportive of you, Belly. I listen to all your Conrad BS and I don’t even complain. When you guys broke up, who was the one who spoon-fed you Chunky Monkey and got you out of bed? Me! And you don’t even appreciate that. You’re, like, hardly even fun anymore.”
Sarcastically, I said, “Gee, Taylor, I’m so sorry I’m not fun anymore. Having someone you love die can do that.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t just blame it on that. You’ve been chasing after Conrad for as long as I’ve known you. It’s getting pathetic. Get over it! He doesn’t like you. Maybe he never did.”
That was maybe the meanest thing she’d ever said to me. I think she might have apologized if I hadn’t come back at her with, “At least I didn’t give away my virginity to a guy who shaves his legs!”
She gasped. In confidence, Taylor had once told me that Davis shaved his legs for swim team. She was silent for a moment. And then she said, “You better not wear my platforms tonight.”
“Too late. I already am!” And then I hung up.
I couldn’t believe her. Taylor was the crappy friend, not me. She was the selfish one. I was so angry, my hand shook when I put on my eyeliner and I had to rub it off and start over again. I wore Taylor’s blouse and her shoes and I pulled my hair all to one side too. I did it because I knew it would piss her off.
And then, last of all, I put on Conrad’s necklace. I tucked it underneath my shirt, and then I went downstairs.
chapter thirty-one
“Welcome,” I said to a boy in a Led Zeppelin T-shirt.
“Nice boots,” I said to a girl with cowboy boots on.
I made my way around the room, passing out drinks and throwing away empty cans. Conrad watched me with his arms crossed. “What are you doing?” he asked me.
“I’m trying to make everyone feel at home,” I explained, adjusting Taylor’s top. Susannah was an excellent hostess. She had a talent for making people feel welcome, wanted. Taylor’s words were still hanging around in the back of my head. I wasn’t selfish. I was a good friend, a good hostess. I’d show her.
When Travis from Video World put his feet up on the coffee table and almost knocked over a hurricane vase, I barked, “Careful. And take your feet off the furniture.” As an afterthought, I added, “Please.”
I was about to go back into the kitchen for more drinks when I saw her. The girl from last summer. Nicole, the one Conrad liked, was standing in the kitchen talking to Jeremiah. She didn’t have her Red Sox hat on, but I’d recognize her perfume anywhere. It smelled like vanilla extract and decomposing roses.
Conrad must have seen her at the same time I did because he sucked in his breath and muttered, “Shit.”
“Did you break her heart?” I asked him. I tried to sound teasing and carefree.
I must have succeeded, because he took me by the hand and grabbed the bottle of tequila and said, “Let’s get out of here.”
I followed him like I was in a trance, sleepwalking. Because it was like a dream, his hand in mine. We were almost home free when Jeremiah saw us. My heart just sank. He motioned us over and called out, “Guys! Come say hi.”
Conrad let go of my hand but not the tequila. “Hey, Nicole,” he said, starting toward her. I grabbed a couple of beers and followed him over.
“Oh, hey, Conrad,” Nicole said, all surprised, like she hadn’t been watching the whole time we’d been in the kitchen. She got on her tip-toes and hugged him.
Jeremiah caught my eye and raised his eyebrows comically. He grinned at me. “Belly, you remember Nicole, right?”
I said, “Of course.” I smiled at her. Perfect hostess, I reminded myself. Unselfish.
Warily, she smiled back at me. I handed her one of the beers I was holding. “Cheers,” I said, opening mine.
“Cheers,” she echoed. We clinked cans and drank. I drank mine fast. When I was done, I got another and I drank that, too.
Suddenly the house felt too quiet, so I turned on the stereo. I turned the music up loud and kicked off my shoes. Susannah always said it wasn’t a party without dancing. I grabbed Jeremiah, threw one arm around his neck, and danced.
“Belly—,” he protested.
“Just dance, Jere!” I yelled.
So he did. He was a good dancer, that Jeremiah. Other people started dancing too, even Nicole. Not Conrad though, but I didn’t care. I barely even noticed.
I danced like it was 1999. I danced like my heart was breaking, which it kind of was. Mostly I just swung my hair around a lot.
I was pretty sweaty when I said, “Can we swim in the pool? One last time?”
Jeremiah said, “Screw that. Let’s swim in the ocean.”
“Yeah!” It sounded like a great idea to me. A perfect idea.
“No,” Conrad said, coming out of nowhere. He was suddenly standing right beside me. “Belly’s drunk. She shouldn’t swim.”
I looked at him and frowned. “But I want to,” I said.
He laughed. “So what?”
“Look, I’m a really good swimmer. And I’m not even drunk.” I walked in a semistraight line to prove my point.
“Sorry,” he said. “But you really are.”
Dumb, boring Conrad. He got so serious at the worst moments.
“You’re no fun.” I looked over at Jeremiah, who was sitting on the floor now. “He’s no fun. And he’s not the boss of us. Right, everybody?”
Before Jeremiah or anybody else could answer me, I made a run for the sliding doors, and then I stumbled down the steps and sprinted onto the beach. I felt like a flying comet, a streak in the sky, like I hadn’t used my muscles in so long and it felt great to stretch my legs and run.
The house, all lit up with people inside, felt a million miles away. I knew he’d come after me. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. But I did anyway.
“Come back to the house,” Conrad said. He had the bottle of tequila in his hand. I grabbed it out of his hand and took a swig like I’d done it a million times before, like I was the kind of girl who could drink right from the bottle.
I was proud of myself for not spitting it back up. I took a step toward the water, smiling big at him. I was testing him.
“Belly,” he warned. “I’m telling you now, I’m not going to pull your dead body out of the ocean when you drown.”
I crossed my eyes at him and then I dipped my toe in. The water was colder than I’d thought it’d be. Suddenly swimming didn’t sound like such a great idea. But I hated backing down to Conrad. I hated losing to him. “Are you gonna stop me?”
He sighed and looked back toward the house.
I continued, took another glug of tequila. Anything to make him pay attention. “I mean, ’cause I am a stronger swimmer than you. I’m way, way faster. You probably couldn’t catch me if you wanted to.”
He was looking at me again. “I’m not
coming after you.”
“Really? You really aren’t?” I took a big step, then another. The water was up to my knees. It was low tide, and I was shivering. It was stupid, really. I didn’t even want to swim anymore. I didn’t know what I was doing. Far down on the other side of the beach, somebody shot off a firecracker. It sounded like a missile. It looked like a silver weeping willow. I watched it drop down into the ocean.
And just when I started to feel disappointed, just when I’d resigned myself to the fact that he didn’t care, he moved toward me. He heaved me up, over his shoulder. I dropped the bottle right into the ocean.
“Put me down!” I screamed, pounding on his back.
“Belly, you’re drunk.”
“Put me down right now!”
And for once, he actually listened. He dropped me, right in the sand, right on my butt. “Ow! That really hurt!”
It didn’t hurt that bad, but I was mad, and more than that, I was embarrassed. I kicked sand at his back and the wind kicked it right back at me. “Jerk!” I yelled, sputtering and spitting out sand.
Conrad shook his head and turned away from me. His jeans were wet. He was leaving. He was really leaving. I’d ruined everything again.
When I stood up I felt so dizzy I almost fell right back down.
“Wait,” I said, and my knees wobbled. I pushed my sandy hair out of my face and took a deep breath. I had to say it, had to tell him. My last chance.
He turned back around. His face was a closed door.
“Just wait a second, please. I need to tell you something. I’m really sorry for the way I acted that day.” My voice was high and desperate, and I was crying, and I hated that I was crying, but I couldn’t help it. I had to keep talking, because this was it. Last chance. “At … at the funeral, I was awful to you. I was horrible, and I’m so ashamed of how I acted. It wasn’t how I wanted things to go, not at all. I really, really wanted to be there for you. That’s why I came to find you.”
Conrad blinked once and then again. “It’s fine.”
I wiped my cheeks and my runny nose. I said, “Do you mean it? You forgive me?”
“Yes,” he said. “I forgive you. Now stop crying, all right?”
I stepped toward him, closer and closer still, and he didn’t back away. We were close enough to kiss. I was holding my breath, wanting so badly for things to be like before.
I took one step closer, and that’s when he said, “Let’s go back, okay?”
Conrad didn’t wait for me to answer him. He just started walking away, and I followed. I felt like I was going to be sick.
Just like that, the moment was over. It was an almost moment, where almost anything could have happened. But he had made it be over.
Back at the house, people were swimming in the pool in their clothes. A few girls were waving sparklers around. Clay Bertolet, our neighbor, was floating along the edge of the pool in one of his wifebeaters. He grabbed my ankles. “Come on, Belly, swim with me,” he said.
“Let go,” I said, kicking him off and splashing his face in the process.
I pushed my way through all the people on the deck and made my way back into the house. I accidentally stepped on some girl’s foot and she screamed. “Sorry,” I said, and my voice came out sounding far away. I was so dizzy. I just wanted my bed.
I crawled up the stairs with my hands, like a crab, the way I used to when I was a little kid. I fell into bed, and it was just like they say in the movies, the room was spinning. The bed was spinning, and then I remembered all the stupid stuff I said, and I started to cry.
I made a real fool of myself out on that beach. It was devastating, all of it—Susannah gone, the thought of this house not being ours anymore, me giving Conrad the chance to reject me one more time. Taylor was right: I was a masochist.
I lay on my side and hugged my knees to my chest and wept. Everything was wrong, and most of all me. Suddenly I just wanted my mother.
I reached across the bed for the phone on my nightstand. The numbers lit up in the darkness. My mother picked up on the fourth ring.
Her voice was drowsy and familiar in a way that made me cry harder. More than anything in the world, I wanted to reach inside the phone and bring her here.
“Mommy,” I said. My voice came out a croak.
“Belly? What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“I’m at Susannah’s. At the summer house.”
“What? What are you doing at the summer house?”
“Mr. Fisher’s gonna sell it. He’s gonna sell it and Conrad is so sad and Mr. Fisher doesn’t even care. He just wants to get rid of it. He wants to get rid of her.”
“Belly, slow down. I can’t hear what you’re saying.”
“Just come, okay? Just please come and fix it.”
And then I hung up, because suddenly the phone felt very heavy in my hand. I felt like I was on a merry-go-round, and not in a good way. Somebody was setting off fireworks outside, and it felt like my head was pounding right along with them. Then I closed my eyes and it was worse. But my eyelids felt heavy too and soon I was asleep.
chapter thirty-two
JEREMIAH
Pretty soon after Belly went up to bed, I cleared everybody out and it was just Conrad and me. He was lying facedown on the couch. He’d been lying there since he and Belly came back from the beach. They were both wet and sandy. Belly was wasted, and she’d been crying, I could tell. Her eyes were red. Conrad’s fault—no doubt about that.
People had tracked sand inside and it was all over the floor. There were bottles and cans everywhere, and somebody had sat on the couch in a wet towel, and now the cushion had a big orange spot. I flipped it over. “The house is a wreck,” I said, falling onto the La-Z-Boy. “Dad will freak out if he sees it like this tomorrow.”
Conrad didn’t open his eyes. “Whatever. We’ll clean it in the morning.”
I stared at him, just feeling pissed. I was sick of cleaning up his messes. “It’s gonna take us hours.”
Then he opened his eyes. “You’re the one who invited everybody over.”
He had a point. The party had been my idea. It wasn’t the mess I was pissed about. It was Belly. Him and her, together. It made me sick.
“Your jeans are wet,” I said. “You’re getting sand all over the couch.”
Conrad sat up, rubbed his eyes. “What’s your problem?”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I started to get up, but then I sat back down. “What the hell happened outside with you guys?”
“Nothing.”
“What does that mean, nothing?”
“Nothing means nothing. Just leave it, Jere.”
I hated it when he got like that, all stoic and detached, especially when I was mad. He’d always been like that, but it was more and more these days. When our mom died, he changed. Conrad didn’t give two shits about anything or anyone anymore. I wondered if that included Belly.
I had to know. About him and her, how he really felt, what he was going to do about it. It was the not knowing that killed a guy.
So I asked him flat out. “Do you still like her?”
He stared at me. I’d shocked the hell out of him, I could tell. We’d never talked about her before, not like this. It was probably a good thing that I’d caught him off guard. Maybe he’d tell the truth.
If he said yes, it was over. If he said yes, I would give her up. I could live with that. If it were anyone but Conrad, I’d have tried anyway. I’d have given it one last shot.
Instead of answering the question, he said, “Do you?”
I could feel myself turn red. “I’m not the one who took her to the freaking prom.”
Conrad thought that over and then said, “I only took her because she asked me to.”
“Con. Do you like her or not, man?” I hesitated for about two seconds, and then I just went for it. “Because I do. I like her. I real
ly like her. Do you?”
He didn’t blink, didn’t even hesitate. “No.”
It really pissed me off.
He was full of shit. He liked her. He more than liked her. But he couldn’t admit it, wouldn’t man up. Conrad would never be that guy, the kind of guy Belly needed. Someone who would be there for her, someone she could count on. I could. If she’d let me, I could be that guy.
I was pissed at him, but I had to admit I was relieved, too. No matter how many times he hurt her, I knew that if he wanted her back, she was his. She always had been.
But maybe now that Conrad wasn’t standing in the way, she’d see me there too.
chapter thirty-three
JULY 5
“Belly.”
I tried to roll over, but then I heard it again, louder.
“Belly!” Someone was shaking me awake.
I opened my eyes. It was my mother. She had dark circles around her eyes and her mouth had all but disappeared into a thin line. She was wearing her house sweats, the ones she never left the house in, not even to go to the gym. What in the world was she doing at the summer house?
There was a beeping sound that at first I thought was the alarm clock, but then I realized that I had knocked the phone over, and it was the busy signal I was hearing. And then I remembered. I’d drunk-dialed my mother. I’d brought her here.
I sat up, my head pounding so hard it felt like my heart was hammering inside it. So this was what a hangover felt like. I’d left my contacts in and my eyes were burning. There was sand all over the bed and some was stuck on my feet.
My mother stood up; she was one big blur. “You have five minutes to pack up your stuff.”
“Wait … what?”
“We’re leaving.”
“But I can’t leave yet. I still have to—”
It was like she couldn’t hear me, like I was on mute. She started picking my things up off the floor, throwing Taylor’s sandals and shorts into my overnight bag.
