Read Online The Summer I Turned Pretty by Jenny Han - Free Book Online Page B
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
boardwalk tonight, though, remember? We have to look cute for that. There'll be boys there. Let me pick out your outfit, okay?"
87
It used to be that when Taylor picked out my clothes, I felt like the nerdy girl transformed at the prom, in a good way. Now it felt like I was her clueless mom who didn't know how to dress right.
I hadn't brought any dresses with me. In fact, I never had. I never even thought to. I only had two dresses at home--one my grandmother bought me for Easter and one I had to buy for eighth-grade graduation. Nothing seemed to fit me right lately. Things were either too long in the crotch or too tight in the waist. I had never thought much about dresses, but looking at hers all laid out on the bed like that, I was jealous.
"I'm not getting dressed up for the boardwalk," I told her.
"Let me just see what you have," she said, walking over to my closet.
"Taylor, I said no! This is what I'm wearing." I gestured at my cutoff shorts and Cousins Beach T-shirt.
Taylor made a face, but she backed away from my closet and went back to her three sundresses. "Fine. Have it your way, grumpy. Now, which one should I wear?"
I sighed. "The black one," I said, closing my eyes. "Now hurry up and put some clothes on."
Dinner that night was scallops and asparagus. When my mother cooked, it was always some sort of seafood with lemon and olive oil and a vegetable. Every time. Susannah
88
only cooked every once in a while, so besides the first night, which was always bouillabaisse, you never knew what you were going to get. She might spend the whole afternoon puttering around the kitchen, making something I'd never had before, like Moroccan chicken with figs. She'd pull out her spiral bound Junior League cookbook that had buttery pages and notes in the margins, the one my mother made fun of. Or she might make American cheese omelets with ketchup and toast. Us kids were supposedly in charge of one night a week too, and that usually meant hamburgers or frozen pizza. But most nights, we ate whatever we wanted, whenever we felt like eating. I loved that about the summer house. At home, we had dinner every night at six thirty, like clockwork. Here, it was like everything just kind of relaxed, even my mother.
Taylor leaned forward and said, "Laurel, what's the craziest thing you and Susannah did when you were our age?" Taylor talked to people like she was at a slumber party, always. Adults, boys, the cafeteria lady, everyone.
My mother and Susannah looked at each other and smiled. They knew, but they weren't telling. My mother wiped her mouth with her napkin and said, "We snuck onto the golf course one night and planted daisies."
I knew that wasn't the truth, but Steven and Jeremiah laughed. Steven said in his annoying know-it-all kind of way, "You guys were boring even when you were teenagers."
89
"I think it's really sweet," Taylor said, squirting a glob of ketchup onto her plate. Taylor ate everything with ketchup--eggs, pizza, pasta, everything.
Conrad, who I thought hadn't even been listening, said, "You guys are lying. That wasn't the craziest thing you ever did."
Susannah put her hands up, like, I surrender. "Mothers get to have secrets too," she said. "I don't ask you boys about your secrets, now, do I?"
"Yes, you do," said Jeremiah. He pointed his fork at her. "You ask all the time. If I had a journal, you would read it."
"No, I wouldn't," she protested.
My mother said, "Yes, you would."
Susannah glared at my mother. "I would never." Then she looked at Conrad and Jeremiah sitting next to each other. "Fine, I might, but only Conrad's. He's so good at keeping everything locked inside, I never know what he's thinking. But not you, Jeremiah. You, my baby boy, wear your heart right here." She reached over and touched his sweatshirt sleeve.
"No, I don't," he protested, stabbing a scallop on his plate. "I have secrets."
That's when Taylor said, "Sure you do, Jeremy," in this really sickeningly flirtatious
87
It used to be that when Taylor picked out my clothes, I felt like the nerdy girl transformed at the prom, in a good way. Now it felt like I was her clueless mom who didn't know how to dress right.
I hadn't brought any dresses with me. In fact, I never had. I never even thought to. I only had two dresses at home--one my grandmother bought me for Easter and one I had to buy for eighth-grade graduation. Nothing seemed to fit me right lately. Things were either too long in the crotch or too tight in the waist. I had never thought much about dresses, but looking at hers all laid out on the bed like that, I was jealous.
"I'm not getting dressed up for the boardwalk," I told her.
"Let me just see what you have," she said, walking over to my closet.
"Taylor, I said no! This is what I'm wearing." I gestured at my cutoff shorts and Cousins Beach T-shirt.
Taylor made a face, but she backed away from my closet and went back to her three sundresses. "Fine. Have it your way, grumpy. Now, which one should I wear?"
I sighed. "The black one," I said, closing my eyes. "Now hurry up and put some clothes on."
Dinner that night was scallops and asparagus. When my mother cooked, it was always some sort of seafood with lemon and olive oil and a vegetable. Every time. Susannah
88
only cooked every once in a while, so besides the first night, which was always bouillabaisse, you never knew what you were going to get. She might spend the whole afternoon puttering around the kitchen, making something I'd never had before, like Moroccan chicken with figs. She'd pull out her spiral bound Junior League cookbook that had buttery pages and notes in the margins, the one my mother made fun of. Or she might make American cheese omelets with ketchup and toast. Us kids were supposedly in charge of one night a week too, and that usually meant hamburgers or frozen pizza. But most nights, we ate whatever we wanted, whenever we felt like eating. I loved that about the summer house. At home, we had dinner every night at six thirty, like clockwork. Here, it was like everything just kind of relaxed, even my mother.
Taylor leaned forward and said, "Laurel, what's the craziest thing you and Susannah did when you were our age?" Taylor talked to people like she was at a slumber party, always. Adults, boys, the cafeteria lady, everyone.
My mother and Susannah looked at each other and smiled. They knew, but they weren't telling. My mother wiped her mouth with her napkin and said, "We snuck onto the golf course one night and planted daisies."
I knew that wasn't the truth, but Steven and Jeremiah laughed. Steven said in his annoying know-it-all kind of way, "You guys were boring even when you were teenagers."
89
"I think it's really sweet," Taylor said, squirting a glob of ketchup onto her plate. Taylor ate everything with ketchup--eggs, pizza, pasta, everything.
Conrad, who I thought hadn't even been listening, said, "You guys are lying. That wasn't the craziest thing you ever did."
Susannah put her hands up, like, I surrender. "Mothers get to have secrets too," she said. "I don't ask you boys about your secrets, now, do I?"
"Yes, you do," said Jeremiah. He pointed his fork at her. "You ask all the time. If I had a journal, you would read it."
"No, I wouldn't," she protested.
My mother said, "Yes, you would."
Susannah glared at my mother. "I would never." Then she looked at Conrad and Jeremiah sitting next to each other. "Fine, I might, but only Conrad's. He's so good at keeping everything locked inside, I never know what he's thinking. But not you, Jeremiah. You, my baby boy, wear your heart right here." She reached over and touched his sweatshirt sleeve.
"No, I don't," he protested, stabbing a scallop on his plate. "I have secrets."
That's when Taylor said, "Sure you do, Jeremy," in this really sickeningly flirtatious
Similar Books
