It's Not Summer Without You

It was afternoon, and Conrad and Steven had hitchhiked to the arcade, which I wasn’t supposed to know about. The moms thought they were riding their bikes to the tackle shop for more rubber worms. I was going to go boarding with Clay, and I had my swim trunks on and a towel around my neck when I ran into my mom in the kitchen.

“What are you up to, Jere?” she asked.

I made a hang ten sign. “I’m gonna go boarding with Clay. See ya!”

I was about to push the sliding door open when she said, “Hmm. You know what?”

Suspiciously, I asked, “What?”

“It might be nice if you stayed inside today and cheered up Belly. Poor thing could use some cheering up.”

“Aw, Mom—”

“Please, Jeremiah?”

I sighed. I didn’t want to stay home and cheer up Belly. I wanted to go boarding with Clay.

When I didn’t say anything, she added, “We can grill out tonight. I’ll let you be in charge of the burgers.”

I sighed again, louder this time. My mom still thought that letting me fire up the grill and flip hamburgers was a big treat for me. Not that it wasn’t fun, but still. I opened my mouth to say “no thanks,” but then I saw the fond, happy look on her face, the way she just knew I would say yes. So I did. “Fine,” I said.

I went back upstairs and changed out of my swim trunks and then I joined Belly in the TV room. I sat as far away from her as I could. The last thing I needed was to catch her cold and be sidelined for a week.

“Why are you still here?” she asked, blowing her nose.

“It’s too hot outside,” I said. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“It’s not that hot outside.”

“How would you know if you haven’t been out there?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Did your mom make you stay inside with me?”

“No,” I said.

“Ha!” Belly grabbed the remote and changed the channel. “I know you’re lying.”

“I am not!”

Blowing her nose loudly she said, “ESP, remember?”

“That’s not real. Can I have the remote?”

She shook her head and held the remote to her chest protectively. “No. My germs are all over it. Sorry. Is there any more toast bread?”

Toast bread was what we called the bread my mom bought at the farmer’s market. It came sliced, and it was white and thick and a little bit sweet. I’d had the last three slices of toast bread that morning. I’d slathered it with butter and blackberry jam and I’d eaten it really fast before anyone else got up. With four kids and two adults, bread went really fast. It was every man for himself.

“No more toast bread left,” I said.

“Conrad and Steven are such pigs,” she said, sniffling.

Guiltily, I said, “I thought all you wanted to eat were grape Popsicles.”

She shrugged. “When I woke up this morning I wanted toast bread. I think maybe I’m getting better.”

She didn’t look any better to me. Her eyes were swollen and her skin looked grayish, and I don’t think she’d washed her hair in days because it was all stringy and matted looking. “Maybe you should take a shower,” I said. “My mom says you always feel better after you take a shower.”

“Are you saying I smell?”

“Um, no.” I looked out the window. It was a clear day, no clouds. I bet Clay was having a blast. I bet Steven and Conrad were too. Conrad had emptied out his old first-grade piggy bank and found a ton of quarters. I bet they’d be at the arcade all afternoon. I wondered how long Clay was gonna be outside. I might be able to catch him in a few hours; it’d still be light out.

I guess Belly caught me staring out the window, because she said, in this really snotty voice, “Just go if you want to.”

“I said I didn’t,” I snapped. Then I took a breath. My mom wouldn’t like it if I made Belly upset when she was all sick like this. And she really did look lonely. I kinda felt sorry for her, being stuck inside all day. Summer colds sucked more than anything.

So I said, “Do you want me to teach you how to play poker?”

“You don’t know how to play,” she scoffed. “Conrad beats you every time.”

“Fine,” I said. I stood up. I didn’t feel that sorry for her.

“Never mind,” she said. “You can teach me.”

I sat back down. “Pass the cards,” I said gruffly.

I could tell Belly felt bad because she said, “You shouldn’t sit too close. You’ll get sick too.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I never get sick.”

“Neither does Conrad,” she said, and I rolled my eyes. Belly worshipped Conrad, just like Steven did.

“Conrad does get sick, he gets sick all the time in the winter. He has a weak immune system,” I told her, although I didn’t know if that was true or not.

She shrugged, but I could tell she didn’t believe me. She handed me the cards. “Just deal,” she said.

We played poker all afternoon and it was actually pretty fun. I got sick two days later, but I didn’t mind that much. Belly stayed home with me and we played more poker and we watched The Simpsons a lot.

Chapter thirty-five

jeremiah

As soon as I heard Belly come up the stairs, I met her in the hallway. “So? What’s going on?”

“My mom’s calling your dad,” she said gravely.

“She is? Wow.”

“Yeah, so, don’t, like, give up already. It’s not over yet.” Then she gave me one of her wrinkly-nose smiles.

I clapped her on the back and practically sprinted down the stairs. There was Laurel, wiping down the counter. When she saw me, she said, “Your father’s coming over. For breakfast.”

“Here?”

Laurel nodded. “Will you go to the store and get some things he likes? Eggs and bacon. Muffin mix. And those big grapefruit.”

Laurel hated to cook. She had definitely never made my dad a lumberjack breakfast. “Why are you cooking for him?” I asked.

“Because he’s a child and children are cranky when they haven’t been fed,” she said in that dry way of hers.

Out of nowhere, I said, “Sometimes I hate him.”

She hesitated before saying, “Sometimes I do too.”

And then I waited for her to say, “But he is your father,” the way my mom used to. Laurel didn’t, though. Laurel was no bullshit. She didn’t say things she didn’t mean.