The Summer I Turned Pretty (Conrad’s Version) chapter 1

It already felt like a lifetime since we’d arrived at the summer house. Jeremiah and I had come down a week early to get the place ready; air it out, make the beds, fill the kitchen with groceries.
My mother, Susannah, called this house her sanctuary. For us, it had been the only constant; our summer escape, year after year, for as long as I could remember.
The past week, I’d spent most of my time surfing, swimming, or helping my mom set things in order. Jeremiah was always around, but we weren’t as close as we used to be. Somewhere along the way, he’d stayed lighthearted and easy, while I’d drifted… elsewhere.
Not that I was grown up. Eighteen didn’t make me wise but lately, we looked at life differently. He was untouched by reality in a way I couldn’t be anymore.
So I spent more time alone. Unless my mom asked me to sit with her. Then I always did. Talking with her, or just lying there with my head in her lap like when I was a kid. Those moments, I never said no to.
Today was different. It was the best part of summer, the day the Conklins arrived.
My mom and Laurel had been inseparable since they were nine. They called themselves sisters, and honestly, that’s what they were. Laurel came every summer with her son, Steven, my age—and her daughter, Isabella. Everyone called her Belly.
The summer house was as much a sanctuary for our mothers as it was for us. They’d started coming to Cousins long before we were born, and never missed a year.
Cousins itself was like any other coastal town on the east coast. People with summer homes pretending they lived there year-round. Tourists pretending they belonged. But we didn’t come for the town. We came for the house. For tradition. For our moms and for each other.
The house sat right on the beach. Perfect for surfing, late-night swims in the pool, cookouts, bonfires. Our summers were built on iced tea, sand, salt water, and teasing Belly, more often than not. She was outnumbered, three to one.
We didn’t see much of the Conklins during the year, sometimes not at all. Then school let out, and we were free to come here.
Away from the beach house, life was just classes, football, and the few friends I kept back in New England. Jeremiah’s time away looked about the same, except with more parties, more noise. For him, the only thing that changed was the season.
This last year had been different for me. Senior year. My hardest, academically and I’d needed the distraction. After the breakup, it was better to drown in assignments than think about her.
Jeremiah told me the best way to get over someone was to get under someone new. That was him. That was how he saw the world. He couldn’t understand. Not when he lived with rose-colored glasses.
By the end of the year, all I wanted was to get here. To leave everything behind. To be carefree again with Steven and Jeremiah. To see Belly and Laurel. To feel the one thing that never changed; summer, here, with them.
The morning the Conklins were due to arrive started like any other. Mom sent Jeremiah and me to pick up a few last-minute things from the store. We grabbed groceries, and hydrangeas for the moms.
Back at the house, I couldn’t shake the jitter in my chest. Sitting around wasn’t an option, so I went surfing with Jeremiah.
We’d been catching waves all morning when, during a lull, Jeremiah broke the silence.
“You think she’s the same?”
I didn’t have to ask who he meant. I sighed.
“She’s been the same every summer since we were kids. I doubt much changed.”
Jeremiah trailed his hand through the water. “I don’t know, man. Things were a little different last summer with—”
Before he could finish, I paddled hard, caught the next set, and let the wave carry me in. Anything to cut him off.
I swam the rest of the way to shore, showered, and changed before they arrived.
I’d been sitting on the porch steps for over an hour before they were even due. Mom had gone upstairs to rest, too tired this year to wait by the window like always.
Maybe Belly wouldn’t be any different. But the summer already felt different, and the thought left an ache in my chest. I tried to imagine we weren’t getting older, that college decisions weren’t hanging over us, that if we kept coming back here, nothing would ever change.
Jeremiah joined me about half an hour later.
“You good, bro?” he asked, breaking into my thoughts.
“Yeah. Just a little beat from the sun.”
He clapped my back, grinning, just as their car rolled into the drive.
Steven was behind the wheel. Belly leaned over him to honk the horn twice—our code for come help with the bags.
From the porch, Steven looked the same as always, maybe a little broader. Belly I couldn’t see clearly, her hair fell across her face. But even with that curtain of hair, I could tell her face hadn’t changed much. Round, familiar. Almond eyes. Freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks.
Jeremiah hopped off the porch, cupping his hands like a megaphone.
“Steve-O!”
Steven laughed, climbing out of the car, and the two of them collided in one of those rough, guy hugs.
When Steven reached me, all I got was a quick double pat on the shoulder.
Belly stayed in the car, head down, tying her sneakers. Too focused on the laces to notice us waiting; for them, for her.
The house loomed behind us, all gray and white panels like every other place on the shore. But it wasn’t the house that made it different. It was them. The Conklins.
Laurel climbed out first.
“Hey, boys. Where’s your mother?”
“She’s taking a nap,” Jeremiah called back before I could answer.
I didn’t miss the way Laurel’s brows pulled together. Usually, Mom was the first to greet them. Always.
She crossed the yard and wrapped Jeremiah and me in a tight hug, then disappeared inside.
That was when Belly finally stepped out. She bent to grab a bag from the floorboard. I looked away, trying to focus on anything else.
But when her steps drew closer, I let myself look. Just once.
Her cheeks flushed the moment our eyes met, and I felt that flicker of discomfort twist between us.
Next to me, Jeremiah did a double take, his mouth hanging open.
I crossed the space first, pulling Belly into a quick hug. Careful, not too close. She wasn’t the same kid anymore. Taller. Slimmer. Her face, once round, had thinned out. And the glasses were gone.
I couldn’t help myself. Leaning in, I murmured, “I liked you better with glasses.”
She shoved me back.
“Well, too bad. My contacts are here to stay.”
I didn’t have an answer for that, so I just smiled. She was still Belly.
“I think you got a few new ones,” I said, tapping her nose, noticing freckles scattered fresh across her skin.
She turned away, scowling, just as Jeremiah swooped in and scooped her up off the ground.
“Belly Button’s all growed up,” he crowed.
Her laugh came out breathless as she demanded he put her down.
“You smell like BO,” she shot back.
I stifled a laugh, shaking my head. Same old Belly.
Jeremiah ruffled her hair.
“Same old Belly,” he crooned, using that same teasing tone I’d heard him use on dozens of girls back home.
He kept staring at her.
“Something looks different about you, Belly.”
I caught the quick wince before she replied.
“What? I got contacts.”
She chewed her bottom lip, like she always did when she was thinking. But Jeremiah didn’t let it go.
“It’s not that. You just look different.”
The silence stretched before Belly turned back to the car. We followed, unloading bags in quick trips, then filing into the house.
Steven and Jeremiah went straight for the fridge. Belly slipped off to her room. The one that had been Mom’s when she was a girl. Susannah had insisted Belly have it, and it hadn’t changed since. White four-poster bed. Faded wallpaper. Little pieces of her always left behind, year after year.
I sat across from Jeremiah and Steven as they swapped stories about school. I half listened, half didn’t. My mind kept drifting upstairs. Wondering if Belly knew. If she had any idea how much she’d changed