“I don’t think it’s stupid. I think I agree with her.” Conrad gave me this look, the kind of look I bet soldiersgive each other when they’re teaming up against somebody else. It was like we were in it together.
I gave Steven a little shimmy. I couldn’t help myself. “See?” I said. “Conrad agrees with me.”
Steven mimicked, “Conrad agrees with me. Conrad loves me. Conrad’sawesome—”
“Shut up, Steven!” I yelled.
He grinned and said, “My turn to ask a question. Belly, would you rather eat mayonnaise every day, or be flat-chested for the rest of your life?”
I turned on my side, grabbed a handful of sand, and threw it at Steven. He was in the middle of laughing, and a bunch got in his mouth and stuck to his wet cheeks. He screamed, “You’re dead, Belly!”
Then he lunged at me, and I rolled away from him. “Leave me alone,” I said defiantly. “You can’t hurt me or I’ll tell Mom.”
“You’re such a pain in the ass,” he spat out, grabbing my leg roughly. “I’m throwing you in the water.”
I tried to shake him off, but I only succeeded in kicking more sand into his face. Which of course only made him madder.
Conrad said, “Leave her alone, Steven. Let’s go swim.”
“Yeah, come on,” said Jeremiah.
Steven hesitated. “Fine,” he said, spitting out sand. “But you’re still dead, Belly.” He pointed at me, and then made a cutting motion with his finger.
I gave him the finger and flipped over, but inside I was shaking. Conrad had defended me. Conrad cared whether or not I was dead.
Steven was mad at me the whole rest of the day, but it was worth it. It was also ironic, Steven teasing me about being flat-chested, because two summers later I had to wear a bra, but, like, for real.
chaptertwenty-one
The night Steven left, I headed down to the pool for one of my midnight swims, and Conrad and Jeremiah and this neighbor guy Clay Bertolet were sitting on the lounge chairs drinking beer. Clay lived way down the street, and he’d been coming to Cousins Beach for almost as long as we had. He was a year older than Conrad. No one had even liked him much. He was just a person to hang out with, I guess.
Right away I stiffened and held my beach towel closer to my chest. I wondered if I should turn back. Clay had always made me nervous. I didn’t have to swim that night. I could do it the next night. But no, I had as much right to be out there as they did. More, even.
I walked over to them, pretend-confident. “Hey, guys,” I said. I didn’t let go of my towel. It felt funny to bestanding there in a towel and a bikini when they were all wearing clothes.
Clay looked up at me, his eyes narrow. “Hey, Belly. Long time no see.” He patted the lounge chair. “Sit down.”
I hated when people said “long time no see.” It was such a dumb way to say hello. But I sat down anyway.
He leaned in and gave me a hug. He smelled like beer and Polo Sport. “So how’ve you been?” he asked.
Before I could answer, Conrad said, “She’s fine, and now it’s time for bed. Good night, Belly.”
I tried not to sound like a five-year-old when I said, “I’m not going to sleep yet, I’m swimming.”
“You should head back up,” Jeremiah said, putting his beer down. “Your mom will kill you for drinking.”
“Hello. I’m not drinking,” I reminded him.
Clay offered me his Corona. “Here,” he said, winking. He seemed drunk.
I hesitated, and Conrad snapped irritably, “Don’t give her that. She’s a kid, for God’s sake.”
I glared at him. “Quit acting like Steven.” For a second or two I considered taking Clay’s beer. It would be my first. But then I’d only be doing it to spite Conrad, and I wasn’t going to let him control what I did.
“No, thanks,” I told him.
Conrad nodded imperceptibly. “Now go back to bed like a good girl.”
