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The Summer I Turned Pretty

(Summer #1)(9)
Author: Jenny Han

I think he would have stayed with her

forever, trying to figure out the mystery.
He was a puzzle solver, the kind of
person who likes theorems, theories. X
always had to equal something. It
couldn't just be X.

To me, my mother wasn't that

mysterious. She was my mother.
Always reasonable, always sure of
herself. To me, she was about as
mysterious as a glass of water. She
knew what she wanted; she knew what
she didn't want. And that was to be
married to my father. I wasn't sure if it
was that she fell out of love or if it was
that she just never was. In love, I mean.

When we were at Granna's, my mother

took off on one of her trips. She'd go to
far-off places like Hungary or Alaska.
She always went alone. She took
pictures, but I never asked to look at
them, and she never asked if I wanted
to.

Chapter thirteen

I was sitting in an Adirondack chair

eating toast and reading a magazine
when my mother came out and joined
me. She had that serious look on her
face, her look of purpose, the one she
got when she wanted to have one of
her mother-daughter talks. I dreaded
those talks the same way I dreaded my
period.

"What are you doing today?" she asked

me casually.

I stuffed the rest of my toast into my

mouth. "This?"

"Maybe you could get started on your

summer reading for AP English," she
said, reaching over and brushing some
crumbs off my chin.

"Yeah, I was planning on it," I said, even

though I hadn't been.

My mother cleared her throat. "Is

Conrad doing drugs?" she asked me.

"What?"

"Is Conrad doing drugs?"

I almost choked. "No! Why are you

asking me anyway? Conrad doesn't talk
to me. Ask Steven."

"I already did. He doesn't know. He

wouldn't lie," she said, peering at me.

"Well, I wouldn't either!"

My mother sighed. "I know. Beck's

worried. He's been acting differently.

He quit football ..."

"I quit dance," I said, rolling my eyes.

"And you don't see me running around
with a crack pipe."

She pursed her lips. "Will you promise

to tell me if you hear something?"

"I don't know . . . ," I said teasingly. I

didn't need to promise her. I knew
Conrad wasn't doing drugs. A beer was
one thing, but he would never do drugs.
I would bet my life on it.

"Belly, this is serious."

"Mom, chill. He's not doing drugs.

When'd you turn into such a narc,
anyway? You're one to talk." I elbowed
her playfully.

She bit back a smile and shook her

head. "Don't start."

Chapter fourteen

AGE 13

The first time they did it, they thought

we didn't know. It was actually pretty
stupid of them, because it was one of
those rare nights when we were all at
home. We were in the living room.
Conrad was listening to music with his
headphones on, and Jeremiah and
Steven were playing a video game. I
was sitting on the La-Z-Boy reading
Emma --mostly because I thought it
made me look smart, not really because
I enjoyed it. If I was reading for real, I
would be locked in my room with
Flowers in the Attic or something and
not Jane Austen.

I think Steven smelled it first. He looked

around, sniffed like a dog, and then
said, "Do you guys smell that?"

"I told you not to eat all those baked

beans, Steven," Jeremiah said, his
eyes focused on the TV screen.

I snickered. But it wasn't gas; I smelled

it too. It was pot. "It's pot," I said, loudly.
I wanted to be the one who said it first,
to prove how sophisticated and
knowledgeable I was.

"No way," said Jeremiah.

Conrad took off his headphones and

said, "Belly's right. It's pot."

Steven paused the game and turned to

look at me. "How do you know what pot
smells like, Belly?" he asked me
suspiciously.

"Because, Steven, I get high all the

time. I'm a burn-out. You didn't know?" I
hated it when Steven pulled the big
brother routine, especially in front of
Conrad and Jeremiah. It was like he
was trying to make me feel small on
purpose.

He ignored me. "Is that coming from

upstairs?"

"It's my mom's," Conrad said, putting

his headphones back on again. "For her
chemo."

Jeremiah didn't know, I could tell. He

didn't say anything, but he looked
confused and even hurt, the way he
scratched the back of his neck and
looked off into space for a minute.
Steven and I exchanged a look. It was
awkward, whenever Susannah's cancer
came up, the two of us being outsiders
and all. We never knew what to say, so
we didn't say anything. We mostly
pretended it wasn't happening, the way
Jeremiah did.

My mother didn't, though. She was

matter-of-fact, >calm, the way she is
about everything. Susannah said my
mother made her feel normal. My
mother was good at that, making
people feel normal. Safe. Like as long
as she was there, nothing truly bad
could happen.

When they came downstairs a little

while later, they were giggling like two
teenagers who had snuck into their
parents' liquor cabinet. Clearly my
mother had partaken in Susannah's
stash as well.

Steven and I exchanged another look,

this time a horrified one. My mother was
probably the last person on earth who
would smoke pot, with the exception of
our grandmother Gran, her mother.

"Did you kids eat all the Cheetos?" my

mother asked, rummaging through a
cabinet. "I'm starving."

"Yes," Steven said. He couldn't even

look at her.

"What about that bag of Fritos? Get

those," Susannah ordered, coming up
behind my La-Z-Boy. She touched my
hair lightly, which I loved. Susannah
was much more affectionate than my
mother in those kinds of ways, and she
was always calling me the daughter she
never had. She loved sharing me with
my mother, and my mother didn't mind.
Neither did I.

"How are you liking Emma so far?" she

asked me. Susannah had a way of
focusing on you that made you feel like
the most interesting person in the room.

I opened my mouth to lie and tell her

how great I thought it was, but before I
could, Conrad said very loudly, "She
hasn't turned a page in over an hour."
He was still wearing his headphones.

I glared at him, but inside I was thrilled

that he had noticed. For once, he had
been watching me. But of course he'd
noticed--Conrad noticed everything.
Conrad would notice if the neighbor's
dog had more crust in its right eye than
its left, or if the pizza delivery guy was
driving a different car. It wasn't really a
compliment to be noticed by Conrad. It
was a matter of fact.

"You'll love it once it gets going,"

Susannah assured me, sweeping my
bangs across my forehead.

"It always takes me a while to get into a

book," I said, in a way that sounded like
I was saying sorry. I didn't want her to
feel bad, seeing as how she was the
one who'd recommended it to me.

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