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 messed up. You should be at home where you belong.”
I sighed.
“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.”
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.
