He hesitated. I saw him hesitate, weigh his words. “Belly—”
“Don’t,” I said, backing away from him. “Just don’t. Don’t say anything to me.”
“Just wait a minute,” he said. “Don’t leave it like this.”
“You’re the one leaving it like this,” I said. I started to walk away, as fast as my feet could go in those stupid heels.
“Wait!” he yelled.
I didn’t turn around, I walked faster. Then I heard him slam his fist on the hood of his car. I almost stopped.
Maybe I would have if he’d followed me. But he didn’t. He got in his car and he left, just like he said he would.
The next morning, Steven came to my room and sat at my desk. He’d just gotten home. He was still wearing his tux. “I’m asleep,” I told him, rolling over.
“No, you’re not.” He paused. “Conrad’s not worth it, okay?”
I knew what it cost him to say that to me, and I loved him for it. Steven was Conrad’s number one fan; he always had been. When Steven got up and left, I repeated it to myself. He’s not worth it.
When I came downstairs the next day around lunchtime, my mother said, “Are you all right?”
I sat down at the kitchen table and put my head down. The wood felt cool and smooth against my cheek. I looked up at her and said, “So I guess Steven blabbed.”
Carefully, she said, “Not exactly. I did ask him why Conrad didn’t stay the night like we planned.”
“We broke up,” I said. In a way, it was exciting to hear it said out loud, because if we were broken up, that meant that at one point, we had been together. We were real.
My mother sat down across from me. She sighed. “I was afraid this was going to happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s more complicated than just you and Conrad. There are more people involved than just the two of you.”
I wanted to scream at her, to tell her how insensitive, how cruel she was, and couldn’t she see my heart was literally breaking? But when I looked up at her face, I bit back the words and swallowed them down. She was right. There was more to worry about than just my stupid heart. There was Susannah to think of. She was going to be so disappointed. I hated to disappoint her.
“Don’t worry about Beck,” my mother told me, her voice gentle. “I’ll tell her. You want me to fix you something to eat?”
I said yes.
Later, in my room, alone again, I told myself it was better this way. That he’d been wanting to end things all along, so it was better that I said it first. I didn’t believe a word of it. If he’d called and asked for me back, if he’d showed up at the house with flowers or a stereo on his shoulders playing our song—did we even have a song? I didn’t know, but if he’d made even the tiniest gesture, I’d have taken him back, gladly. But Conrad didn’t call.
When I found out Susannah was worse, that she wasn’t going to get any better, I called, once. He didn’t pick up, and I didn’t leave a message. If he had picked up, if he’d called me back, I don’t know what I would have said.
And that was it. We were over.
chapter thirteen
JEREMIAH
When my mom found out Conrad was taking Belly to prom, she freaked out. She was insanely happy. You’d have thought they were getting married or something. I hadn’t seen her happy like that in a long time, and part of me was glad that he could give her that. But mostly I was just jealous. My mom kept calling him at school, reminding him of things like to make sure he rented his tux in time. She said maybe he could borrow mine, and I said I doubted it would fit. She left it at that, which I was relieved about. I ended up going to some girl from Collegiate’s prom that night so he couldn’t have worn it anyway. The point is, even if he could have, I wouldn’t have wanted him to.
She made him promise that he’d be sweet to her, the perfect gentleman. She said, “Make it a night she’ll always remember.”
When I got home the afternoon after prom, Conrad’s car was in the driveway, which was weird. I’d thought he was staying at Laurel’s house and then going straight back to school. I stopped by his room, but he was asleep, and pretty soon after, I passed out too.
That night we ordered Chinese food that Mom said she was in the mood for, but when it came, she didn’t eat any.
We ate in the TV room, on the couch, something we never did before she got sick. “So?” she asked, looking at Conrad all eagerly. It was the most energetic I’d seen her all day.
He was shoving a spring roll down his throat, like he was in some big hurry. And he’d brought all this laundry home with him, like he expected Mom to do it. “So what?” he asked.
“So you made me wait all day to hear about the prom! I want to know everything!”
“‘Oh, that,’” he said. He had this embarrassed look on his face, and I knew he didn’t want to talk about it. I was sure he’d done something to screw it up.
“‘Oh, that,’” my mom teased. “Come on, Connie, give me some details. How did she look in her dress? Did you dance? I want to hear everything. I’m still waiting on Laurel to email me the pictures.”
“It was okay,” Conrad said.
“That’s it?” I said. I was annoyed with him that night, with everything about him. He’d gotten to take Belly to her prom and he acted like it was some big chore. If it had been me, I would have done it right.
Conrad ignored me. “She looked really pretty. She wore a purple dress.”
My mom nodded, smiling. “I know exactly the one. How’d the corsage look?”
He shifted in his seat. “It looked nice.”
“Did you end up getting the kind you pin on or the kind you wear on your wrist?”
“The kind you pin on,” he said.
“And did you dance?”
“Yeah, a lot,” he said. “We danced, like, every song.”
“What was the theme?”
“I don’t remember,” Conrad said, and when my mother looked disappointed he added, “I think it was A Night on the Continent. It was, like, a tour of Europe. They had a big Eiffel Tower with Christmas tree lights on it, and a London Bridge you could walk across. And a Leaning Tower of Pisa.”
I looked over at him. A Night on the Continent was our school’s prom theme last year; I know because I was there.
But I guess my mother didn’t remember, because she said, “Oh, that sounds so nice. I wish I could’ve been at Laurel’s house to help Belly get ready. I’m gonna call Laure tonight and bug her to send me those pictures. When do you think you’ll get the professional pictures back? I want to get them framed.”
“I’m not sure,” he said.
“Ask Belly, will you?” She set her plate down on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch cushions. She looked exhausted all of a sudden.
“I will,” he said.
“I think I’m going to bed now,” she said. “Jere, will you get all this cleaned up?”
“Sure, Mom,” I said, helping her to her feet.
She kissed us both on the cheek and went to her bedroom. We’d moved the study upstairs and put her bedroom downstairs so she didn’t have to go up and down the stairs.
When she was gone, I said, sarcastically, “So you guys danced all night, huh?”
“Just leave it,” Conrad said, leaning his head back against the couch.
“Did you even go to the prom? Or did you lie to Mom about that, too?”
He glared at me. “Yeah, I went.”
“Well, somehow I doubt you guys danced all night,” I said. I felt like a jerk but I just couldn’t let it go.
“Why do you have to be such a dick? What do you care about the prom?”
I shrugged. “I just hope you didn’t ruin it for her. What are you even doing here, anyway?”
I expected him to get pissed, in fact I think I hoped he would. But all
he said was, “We can’t all be Mr. Prom King.” He started closing the takeout boxes. “Are you done eating?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m done,” I said.
chapter fourteen
When we drove up to campus, there were people milling around outside on the lawn. Girls were laying out in shorts and bikini tops, and a group of boys were playing Ultimate Frisbee. We found parking right in front of Conrad’s dorm and then we slipped inside the building when a girl stepped out with a laundry basket full of clothes. I felt so incredibly young, and also lost—I’d never been there before. It was different than I’d pictured it. Louder. Busier.
Jeremiah knew the way and I had to hurry to keep up. He took the stairs two at a time and at the third floor, we stopped. I followed him down a brightly lit hallway. On the wall by the elevator there was a bulletin board with a poster that read, LET’S TALK ABOUT SEX, BABY. There were STD pamphlets and a breast exam how-to, and neon condoms were stapled around artfully. “Take one,” someone had written in highlighter. “Or three.”
Conrad’s door had his name on it, and underneath it, the name “Eric Trusky.”
His roommate was a stocky, muscular guy with reddish brown hair, and he opened the door wearing gym shorts and a T-shirt. “What’s up?” he asked us, his eyes falling on me. He reminded me of a wolf.
Instead of feeling flattered by a college guy checking me out, I just felt grossed out. I wanted to hide behind Jeremiah the way I used to hide behind my mother’s skirt when I was five and really shy. I had to remind myself I was sixteen, almost seventeen. Too old to be nervous around a guy named Eric Trusky. Even if Conrad did tell me that Eric was always forwarding him freaky porno videos and stayed on his computer pretty much all day. Except for when he watched his soaps from two to four.
Jeremiah cleared his throat. “I’m Conrad’s brother, and this is—our friend,” he said. “Do you know where he is?”
Eric opened the door and let us in. “Dude, I have no idea. He just took off. Did Ari call you?”
“Who’s Ari?” I asked Jeremiah.
“The RA,” he said.
“Ari the RA,” I repeated, and the corners of Jeremiah’s mouth turned up.
“Who are you?” Eric asked me.
“Belly.” I watched him, waiting for a glimmer of recognition, something that let me know that Conrad talked about me, had at least mentioned me. But of course there was nothing.
“Belly, huh? That’s cute. I’m Eric,” he said, leaning against the wall.
“Um, hi,” I said.
“So—Conrad didn’t say anything to you before he left?” Jeremiah interjected.
“He barely talks, period. He’s like an android.” Then he grinned at me. “Well, he talks to pretty girls.”
I felt sick inside. What pretty girls? Jeremiah exhaled loudly and clasped his hands behind his head. Then he took out his phone and looked at it, as if there might be some answer there.
I sat down on Conrad’s bed—navy sheets and navy comforter. It was unmade. Conrad always made his bed at the summer house. Hotel corners and everything.
So this was where he’d been living. This was his life now.
He didn’t have a lot of things in his dorm room. No TV, no stereo, no pictures hanging up. Certainly none of me, but none even of Susannah or his dad. Just his computer, his clothes, some shoes, books.
“I was actually about to take off, dudes. Going to my parents’ country house. Will you guys just make sure the door is closed when you leave? And when you find C, tell him he owes me twenty bucks for the pizza.”
“No worries, man. I’ll tell him.” I could tell Jeremiah didn’t like Eric, the way his lips almost but didn’t quite form a smile when he said it. He sat down at Conrad’s desk, surveying the room.
Someone knocked on the door and Eric ambled over to open it. It was a girl, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and leggings and sunglasses on the top of her head. “Have you seen my sweater?” she asked him. She peered around him like she was looking for something. Someone.
Did they date, I wondered? That was my first thought. My second thought was, I’m prettier than her. I was ashamed of myself for thinking it, but I couldn’t help it. The truth was, it didn’t matter who was prettier, her or me. He didn’t want me anyway.
Jeremiah jumped up. “Are you a friend of Con’s? Do you know where he went?”
She eyed us curiously. I could tell she thought Jeremiah was cute, the way she tucked her hair behind her ears and took her sunglasses off. “Um, yeah. Hi. I’m Sophie. Who are you?”
“His brother.” Jeremiah walked over and shook her hand. Even though he was stressed out, he took the time to check her out and give her one of his trademark smiles, which she lapped right up.
“Oh, wow. You guys don’t even look alike?” Sophie was one of those people who ended her sentences with a question mark. I could already tell that if I knew her, I would hate her.
“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Jeremiah said. “Did Con say anything to you, Sophie?”
She liked the way he called her by her name. She said, “I think he said he was going to the beach, to surf or something? He’s so crazy.”
Jeremiah looked at me. The beach. He was at the summer house.
When Jeremiah called his dad, I sat on the edge of Conrad’s bed and pretended not to listen. He told Mr. Fisher that everything was fine, that Conrad was safe in Cousins. He did not mention that I was with him.
He said, “Dad, I’ll go get him, it’s no big deal.”
Mr. Fisher said something on his end, and Jeremiah said, “But Dad—” Then he looked over at me, and mouthed, Be right back.
He headed into the hallway and shut the door behind him.
After he was gone, I lay back onto Conrad’s bed and stared up at the ceiling. So this was where he slept every night. I’d known him all my life, but in some ways, he was still a mystery to me. A puzzle.
I got out of bed and went over to his desk. Gingerly, I opened the drawer and found a box of pens, some books, paper. Conrad was always careful with his things. I told myself I wasn’t spying. I was looking for proof. I was Belly Conklin, Girl Detective.
I found it in the second drawer. A robin’s egg blue Tiffany box stuffed way in the back. Even as I was opening it I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t help myself. It was a little jewelry box, and there was a necklace inside, a pendant. I pulled it out and let it dangle. At first I thought it was a figure eight, and that maybe he was dating some girl who ice skated—and I decided I hated her, too. And then I took a closer look, and laid it horizontal in the palm of my hand. It wasn’t an eight.
It was infinity.
Which was when I knew. It wasn’t for some girl who ice skated or for Sophie down the hall. It was for me. He’d bought it for me. Here was my proof. Proof that he really did care.
Conrad was good at math. Well, he was good at everything, but he was really good at math.
A few weeks after we started talking on the phone, when it had become more routine but no less thrilling, I told him all about how much I hated trig and how badly I was doing in it already. Right away I felt guilty for bringing it up—there I was complaining about math when Susannah had cancer. My problems were so petty and juvenile, so high school compared to what Conrad was going through.
“Sorry,” I’d said.
“For what?”
“For talking about my crappy trig grade when …” My voice trailed off. “When your mom’s sick.”
“Don’t apologize. You can say whatever you want to me.” He paused. “And Belly, my mom is getting better. She put on five pounds this month.”
The hopefulness in his voice, it made me feel so tender toward him I could have cried. I said, “Yeah, I heard that from my mom yesterday. That’s really good news.”
“So, okay then. So has your teacher taught you SOH-CAH-TOA yet?”
From then on, Conr
ad started helping me, all over the phone. At first I didn’t really pay attention, I just liked listening to his voice, listening to him explain things. But then he’d quiz me, and I hated to disappoint him. So began our tutoring sessions. The way my mother smirked at me when the phone rang at night, I knew she thought we were having some kind of romance, and I didn’t correct her. It was easier that way. And it made me feel good, people thinking we were a couple. I’ll admit it. I let them think it. I wanted them to. I knew that it wasn’t true, not yet, but it felt like it could be. One day. In the meantime, I had my own private math tutor and I really was starting to get the hang of trig. Conrad had a way of making impossible things make sense, and I never loved him more than during those school nights he spent with me on the phone, going over the same problems over and over, until finally, I understood too.
Jeremiah came back into the room, and I closed my fist around the necklace before he could see it.
“So what’s up?” I asked him. “Is your dad mad? What did he say?”
“He wanted to go to Cousins himself, but I told him I’d do it. There’s no way Conrad would listen to my dad right now. If my dad came, it would only piss him off more.” Jeremiah sat down on the bed. “So I guess we’re going to Cousins this summer after all.”
As soon as he said it, it became real. In my head, I mean. Seeing Conrad wasn’t some faraway pretend thing; it was happening. Just like that I forgot all about my plans to save Conrad and I blurted out, “Maybe you should just drop me off on the way.”
Jeremiah stared at me. “Are you serious? I can’t deal with this by myself. You don’t know how bad it’s been. Ever since my mom got sick again, Conrad’s been in freaking self-destruct mode. He doesn’t give a shit about anything.” Jeremiah stopped talking and then said, “But I know he still cares what you think about him.”
I licked my lips; they felt very dry all of a sudden. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“Well, I am. I know my brother. Will you please just come with me?”
When I thought about the last thing I’d said to Conrad, shame took over and it burned me up inside. You don’t say those kinds of things to a person whose mother just died. You just don’t. How could I face him? I just couldn’t.