My mother walked over to me and sat on the edge of my bed. All those times when they'd supposedly been shopping, or at the museum, on day trips-they hadn't been any of those places. My whole life, I had never known my mother to lie. I felt mad at her, like I had been tricked. "I'm not ready to get out of bed yet," I told her, turning over. She picked up a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and folded them against her chest. "Rise and shine," she said, surveying my mess. I was afraid to go downstairs and face Susannah and have her see that I knew.Īround noon my mother bustled into my room without even knocking. I slept until eleven, and then I just stayed there. Later that morning I didn't get out of bed. I couldn't imagine what it would be like for Jeremiah and Conrad. It was inconceivable I couldn't even picture it. How could it be that I had spent this whole summer worrying about boys, swimming, and getting tan, while Susannah was sick? How could that be? The thought of life without Susannah felt impossible. When I got back into bed, I got under the covers and cried some more, and here I was thinking I didn't have any more tears left. Did I even have a right to say those things to him, with him hurting the way he was? Did I have any rights to him at all? He was in pain, and so was I. It felt like freedom, but freedom bought at some bloody, terrible price. It was the first time I'd ever gotten the last word with Conrad. I'd never seen him at a loss for words before. "I can't believe I ever thought I loved you." I had never wanted to hurt somebody so bad in my whole life. "You're the most selfish person I ever met," I said slowly and deliberately. I opened my mouth to defend myself, to say that nothing had happened, that all we'd done was cry ourselves to sleep. Snidely he said, "Aren't you supposed to be nice to me now? Like the way you were for Jere last night?" He shrugged like he couldn't care less, but his shoulders were tense and rigid. He looked rumpled, and he swayed just slightly. He was standing there in last night's clothes, just like me. I knew right away he'd seen me leave Jeremiah's room. I headed back to my room, and I had my hand on the doorknob when I heard Conrad's voice.
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I covered him with my side of the comforter, so he was tucked in like with a sleeping bag. I woke up early the next morning clinging to the side of the bed. We slept face-to-face, the way we used to. Even though we were older, it felt just the same. Jeremiah nodded and we slept like that, in our clothes on top of the comforter. "I'm sleeping in here, okay," I said, but it wasn't a question. He scooted closer to the wall, and I stretched my legs out next to him. When we stopped, he let go of me and wiped his nose. We cried together, our shoulders shaking and shuddering with the weight of all of it. He began to cry, really cry, but quietly. I reached for him, to hug him, and he shuddered, and something seemed to break inside of him. It might have been easier or something." He wiped his eyes with his T-shirt collar, and I could see him trying so hard to keep it together, to be the strong one. She wanted it to be like this, so we pretended.