The Summer I Turned Pretty by Jenny Han Page A
Authors: Jenny Han
Tags: Fiction, General, Coming of Age, Bildungsromans, Family, Juvenile Fiction, Children's Books - Young Adult Fiction, Nature & the Natural World, Social Issues, Interpersonal relations, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 7-9), Friendship, Adolescence, Social Problems (General) (Young Adult), Holidays & Celebrations, Holidays & Celebrations - Birthdays, Seasons, Summer, Family - General, Beaches, Concepts, Vacation homes, Social Issues - Adolescence, Birthdays, Social Issues - Friendship
Ads: Link
figure out
126
what kind of fish we wanted for dinner, or my mother, calling to tell Steven to put the towels in the dryer, or to get the grill going.
I stayed on the deck, sunning and reading magazines with Cam's hoodie balled up in my lap like a stuffed animal. Since we kept the windows open, I knew I'd hear if the phone rang.
I slathered myself with sunscreen first, and then two layers of tanning oil. I didn't know if it was an oxymoron or what, but better safe than sorry was how I figured it. I set myself up with a little station of cherry Kool-Aid in an old water bottle, plus a radio, plus sunglasses, and magazines. The sunglasses were a pair that Susannah had bought me years ago. Susannah loved to buy presents. When she went off for errands, she'd come home with presents. Little things, like this pair of red heart sunglasses she said I just had to have. She knew just what I'd love, things I hadn't even thought of, had certainly never thought of buying. Things like lavender foot lotion, or a silk quilted pouch for tissues.
My mother and Susannah had left early that morning for one of their art gallery trips to Dyerstown, and Conrad, thank God, had left for work already. Jeremiah was still asleep. The house was mine.
The idea of tanning sounds so fun in theory. Laying out, soaking up sun and sipping on soda, falling asleep like a fat cat. But then the actual act of it is kind of tedious
127
and boring. And hot. I would always rather be floating in an ocean, catching sun that way, than lying down sweating in the sun. They say you get tanner faster when you're wet, anyhow.
But that morning I had no choice. In case Cam called, I mean. So I lay there, sweating and sizzling like a piece of chicken on a grill. It was boring, but it was a necessity.
Just after ten, the phone rang. I sprang up and ran into the kitchen. "Hello?" I said breathlessly.
"Hi, Belly. It's Mr. Fisher."
"Oh, hi, Mr. Fisher," I said. I tried not to sound too disappointed.
He cleared his throat. "So, how's it going down there?"
"Pretty good. Susannah's not home, though. She and my mom went to Dyerstown to visit some galleries." "I see. ... How are the boys?"
"Good ..." I never knew what to say to Mr. Fisher. "Conrad's at work and Jeremiah's still asleep. Do you want me to wake him up?"
"No, no, that's all right."
There was this long pause, and I scrambled to think of something to say.
"Are you, um, coming down this weekend?" I asked.
"No, not this weekend," he said. His voice sounded really far away. "I'll just call back later. You have fun, Belly."
128
I hung up the phone. Mr. Fisher hadn't been down to Cousins once yet. He used to come the weekend after the Fourth, because it was easier getting away from work after the holiday. When he came, he'd fire up the barbecue all weekend long, and he'd wear his apron that said chef knows best . I wondered if Susannah would be sad he wasn't coming, if the boys would care.
I trudged back to my lounge chair, back to the sun. I fell asleep on my lounge chair, and I woke up to Jeremiah sprinkling Kool-Aid onto my stomach. "Quit it," I said grouchily, sitting up. I was thirsty from my extra sweet Kool-Aid (I always made it with double sugar), and I felt dehydrated and sweaty.
He laughed and sat down on my lounge chair. "Is this what you're doing all day?"
"Yes," I said, wiping off my stomach and then wiping my hand on his shorts.
"Don't be boring. Come do something with me," he ordered. "I don't have to work until tonight."
"I'm working on my tan," I told him.
"You're tan enough."
"Will you let me drive?"
He hesitated. "Fine," he said. "But you have to rinse off first. I don't want you getting my seat all oily."
I stood up, throwing my limp greasy hair into a high ponytail. "I'll go right now. Just wait," I said.
Jeremiah waited for me in the car, with the AC on full
129
blast. He sat in the passenger seat. "Where are we going?" I asked, getting into the driver's seat. I felt like an old
126
what kind of fish we wanted for dinner, or my mother, calling to tell Steven to put the towels in the dryer, or to get the grill going.
I stayed on the deck, sunning and reading magazines with Cam's hoodie balled up in my lap like a stuffed animal. Since we kept the windows open, I knew I'd hear if the phone rang.
I slathered myself with sunscreen first, and then two layers of tanning oil. I didn't know if it was an oxymoron or what, but better safe than sorry was how I figured it. I set myself up with a little station of cherry Kool-Aid in an old water bottle, plus a radio, plus sunglasses, and magazines. The sunglasses were a pair that Susannah had bought me years ago. Susannah loved to buy presents. When she went off for errands, she'd come home with presents. Little things, like this pair of red heart sunglasses she said I just had to have. She knew just what I'd love, things I hadn't even thought of, had certainly never thought of buying. Things like lavender foot lotion, or a silk quilted pouch for tissues.
My mother and Susannah had left early that morning for one of their art gallery trips to Dyerstown, and Conrad, thank God, had left for work already. Jeremiah was still asleep. The house was mine.
The idea of tanning sounds so fun in theory. Laying out, soaking up sun and sipping on soda, falling asleep like a fat cat. But then the actual act of it is kind of tedious
127
and boring. And hot. I would always rather be floating in an ocean, catching sun that way, than lying down sweating in the sun. They say you get tanner faster when you're wet, anyhow.
But that morning I had no choice. In case Cam called, I mean. So I lay there, sweating and sizzling like a piece of chicken on a grill. It was boring, but it was a necessity.
Just after ten, the phone rang. I sprang up and ran into the kitchen. "Hello?" I said breathlessly.
"Hi, Belly. It's Mr. Fisher."
"Oh, hi, Mr. Fisher," I said. I tried not to sound too disappointed.
He cleared his throat. "So, how's it going down there?"
"Pretty good. Susannah's not home, though. She and my mom went to Dyerstown to visit some galleries." "I see. ... How are the boys?"
"Good ..." I never knew what to say to Mr. Fisher. "Conrad's at work and Jeremiah's still asleep. Do you want me to wake him up?"
"No, no, that's all right."
There was this long pause, and I scrambled to think of something to say.
"Are you, um, coming down this weekend?" I asked.
"No, not this weekend," he said. His voice sounded really far away. "I'll just call back later. You have fun, Belly."
128
I hung up the phone. Mr. Fisher hadn't been down to Cousins once yet. He used to come the weekend after the Fourth, because it was easier getting away from work after the holiday. When he came, he'd fire up the barbecue all weekend long, and he'd wear his apron that said chef knows best . I wondered if Susannah would be sad he wasn't coming, if the boys would care.
I trudged back to my lounge chair, back to the sun. I fell asleep on my lounge chair, and I woke up to Jeremiah sprinkling Kool-Aid onto my stomach. "Quit it," I said grouchily, sitting up. I was thirsty from my extra sweet Kool-Aid (I always made it with double sugar), and I felt dehydrated and sweaty.
He laughed and sat down on my lounge chair. "Is this what you're doing all day?"
"Yes," I said, wiping off my stomach and then wiping my hand on his shorts.
"Don't be boring. Come do something with me," he ordered. "I don't have to work until tonight."
"I'm working on my tan," I told him.
"You're tan enough."
"Will you let me drive?"
He hesitated. "Fine," he said. "But you have to rinse off first. I don't want you getting my seat all oily."
I stood up, throwing my limp greasy hair into a high ponytail. "I'll go right now. Just wait," I said.
Jeremiah waited for me in the car, with the AC on full
129
blast. He sat in the passenger seat. "Where are we going?" I asked, getting into the driver's seat. I felt like an old
Similar Books
