seventeen going under - jeremiah fisher

ch. 3

"Maybe," I said. My parents never forced me to do anything I didn't want to. Classes, sports, and after-school activities. Sometimes I wish that they did push a little harder. I was nothing except Jeremiah's friend. He always told me that wasn't true, though.

"I don't know why I do it, YN. My dad wants me to. He seemed so happy when I made the team. He seems so happy every Friday night." I didn't have the heart to tell him that he was smiling because Conrad won the game and not because he watched his youngest sit on the bench all night so instead I got off my bed and sat next to him on the floor. "I just want him to be proud of me like he is Conrad."

"He is proud of you. I'm sure of it," I told him. I wasn't sure of it. I wasn't sure of anything at fourteen except that I wanted to make him feel better.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder. He smelled like B.O but I didn't say anything. He held out his other hand in front of me, his pinky erect. I wrapped my own around it and he twisted our wrists, kissing my thumb and I kissed his back. "I hope so."

Mr. Fisher spent that entire fall training the boys. I felt like I didn't see much of Jeremiah at all because he was always playing football with his dad and Conrad or at practice or sleeping because he was so tired. Susannah boasted about how proud she was of them and next year they'll both be stars.

The summer before our sophomore year, Jeremiah went with Conrad to football camp. It was only one month out of our three-month vacation, but it was half of our time in Cousins. He spent the Fourth of July with us that year, though. It was always everyone's favorite holiday. I made sure to feed him extra cake and keep him in the pool for a little bit longer than we intended because I couldn't imagine how much I would miss him.

The night before he left, we sat in the grass in my backyard and looked up at the stars. He was leaning back against his palms, the muscles that were slowly developing in his arms were protruding out and I couldn't help but stare at them. "I'm sorry I have to go," he told me.

"Why are you sorry?" I asked, looking up at him. I was laying on my back, my hands were folded over my stomach and I started picking at the skin around my nails absentmindedly as soon as he started talking.

"Because you're gonna be here alone."

"I have Belly and Steven," I reminded him. Jeremiah chuckled a little bit and nodded his head before leaning forward and grabbing my hand. He entangled his fingers around mine and held them softly.

"It's not the same." He was right, it was never the same when he wasn't around.

I spent most of that summer with Belly, laying by the pool and tanning our legs. She was so excited to have a friend for the rest of the summer. She kept saying, "like a real friend, that can go shopping with me and stuff." Which made me feel sad because I always thought Belly and I were real friends, but maybe Jeremiah was my Laurel and Belly was my Mary.

We got close that summer, though. We spent nights in each other's beds, staying up late and reading magazines and dirty books that we snuck from our mother's rooms. That was the summer Belly told me she loved Conrad and I wish I would have told her I think I loved Jeremiah, but maybe it was just his new muscles.

"Why do you love him?" I asked her. We were under the covers, cocooned in a fort of heavy-duty blankets and a flashlight shining so we could see each other's faces.

"How could you not? He's so dreamy," she gushed. "I like how his glasses sit on his face. Have you learned about infinity yet?" Conrad didn't shut up about infinity when he learned about it. He talked about it for days and days and it felt like his obsession with it would last for infinity. I nodded my head and her smile grew, exposing her braces. "He taught me that. I think I'll love him for infinity."