Everything Changes-The Summer I Turned Pretty

Seventeen

My throat tightens and my eyes sting, but I don't feel like crying. I want to scream and fight and break something. Even if breaking something means hurting someone's feelings.

It's the thought of hurting someone that makes me finally cry. I don't even feel like myself anymore.

No, I realize I don't want to hurt anyone. I realize that I'm actually so frustrated with myself that the person I want to get hurt is me.

My mind blanks when I hear unfamiliar footsteps behind me. One set is heavy and the other set belongs to someone wearing heels. I lift my head from the counter and wipe my shirt across my eyes.

"Kristin!" Mr. Conklin exclaims when he enters the room. He sets a small duffle bag on the ground and walks towards me.

"Hey John," I say, returning half-heartedly the side hug he gives me. It feels awkward this year, after his and Laurel's divorce. "I think Steven and Belly are both upstairs," I tell him, trying to sound cheery.

"Great. Victoria and I will head up to the guest room and say hello to them. Thanks, Kris." He wraps an arm around the shoulders of the woman next to him, who I assume is Victoria, his young girlfriend.

They aren't gone long before they return, with Belly and Steven trailing behind them. I'm glad to see that they both seem to be in a decent mood.

"I'll get Mom," Belly says.

"No," the woman tells her. "Wait a moment. Let's make some margaritas and then you can bring one out for her, a special gift from me."

Belly raises her eyebrows and looks at me. I look away at Victoria instead. "You can use my dad's blender," I say, pointing to the highest shelf in the kitchen. "It's expensive and does a good job."

"But–" Belly starts, and I interrupt her.

"He's not coming. Who cares?" I ask.

Steven and Mr. Conklin watch from behind Victoria as she teaches Belly how to make a pomegranate margarita. After she finishes, she offers the first sip to Belly.

"Ooo, that's so good. Like a slushy kind of good."

"What's good?" The back door slides shut and Jeremiah's here now. I wonder if he can notice the red around my eyes, if he can notice that I was crying. But he doesn't.

Victoria laughs. "I'll take these out to the ladies. John, come introduce them to me and let's leave the kids alone." I watch her wink at Belly as she pulls Mr. Conklin outside.

"Why is Dad's blender out?" Jeremiah asks, looking directly at me. I can feel disappointment coming from his stare and I barely care.

"Because it works better than our junky one. And Dad isn't going to find out. And we aren't little kids anymore."

Jere's eyes linger on me for a few more seconds but I feel an extra set on me as well. Conrad must have also entered the house when Jeremiah did. Unlike Jeremiah's stare, Conrad's gives a satisfied glow.
"She's right," Conrad says. "So what are we making? Margaritas?"

"But guys," Jeremiah tries to warn us again. I know he doesn't want us to get into the same trouble we did years ago when Dad came home to us using his blender and making a huge mess. But we won't.

Conrad grabs Jeremiah's hands and shakes him.
"Loosen up, Jere! Start pouring the bottle, Belly. I'll tell you when to stop." There's a decent amount of alcohol in the blender by the time they add the ice and pomegranate juice. Conrad looks satisfied and Jeremiah relaxes a little.

Steven grabs five glasses from the pantry and sets them in a cluster by Belly. "Serve 'em up, Belly Button."

Belly giggles and smiles giddily as she begins to pour the margaritas. Before she gets to the last glass I say that I don't want any.