seventeen going under - jeremiah fisher

chapter 2

Every year, on his own stretch of the beach, Jumper throws the first bonfire of the season. Some years, we're friends with him and use him for this constant supply of beer that he steals from the corner store where he works and some years, Jeremiah can't stand the sight of him. It all depends on how sleazy his, but every year we attend the bonfire.

I'm standing in front of the floor-length mirror and try to decide if what I'm wearing is good enough. Good enough for Jeremiah, more specifically, but I hear a ping on the window and no longer have any time to decide. I stick my head out the window and Jeremiah is standing out on the lawn looking up at me. All he's missing is the boombox. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair," he calls.

"What hair?" I laugh and grab the ends of my frayed hair. It started breaking off a few years ago from too much sea salt and not enough deep conditioner.

Jeremiah chuckles and calls back, "just get over here! We're all waiting."

I shut the window and throw on a pair of sneakers, calling out to my parents that I was leaving. Mom calls back to be home by 11 and I blow her a kiss as I sneak out the front door. Jeremiah is leaning against the passenger side door of the Jeep with his hands in his pockets, waiting for me. "Where's Belly?" I ask as I approach the car. Conrad and Steven are sitting in the backseat and the front is left open for me and there is no Belly.

Jeremiah ignores my question as he pushes himself off the car to meet me. "You look..." He pauses and I don't know what to say because he's looking at me like he's never seen me before and then he shakes his head like he's shaking away the thought. "You know Belly never comes to these things. She's at home with the moms."

Sometimes, I wish Belly was a little bit older. She's not young in the sense that she's too young to hang out with us but she's never allowed to tag along with the boys. Sometimes, I think it would be nice to have a girl around during the summer. Girl talk was essential.

Jeremiah holds out his hand for me and I let him lead me to the car and he opens the door for me. The boys in the backseat holler a greeting at me and Steven remarks, "who are you all dressed up for?" While wiggling his eyebrows. I scowl at him and my eyes catch Conrad's for a moment.

"You look nice," he mumbles. Steven scuffs and hits his bicep with the back of his hand. Conrad's smoking again. He blows out a cloud of weed and tobacco and it follows him around everywhere. Football Star Conrad. Guitar playing Conrad. A-student Conrad was messing with the white matter in his brain. He breaks eye contact with me like he can read my mind and I turn forward in my seat.

"Ready?" Jeremiah asks as he gets in the car. His smile is so wide I think it might break his cheeks. His blue button-down shirts make his eyes pop and I can't help but notice his shorts stop right above his knee and how can he always look this good?

The music plays in a low hum and Steven and Jeremiah's laughter drown it out. Usually, Conrad would join in on it all, how could he not? Their laughter was contagious, even to me. But not this summer. This summer I watch him in the rearview mirror as he blows smoke out the window and watches the trees pass us by. I watch him until we reach Jumper's stretch of the beach. It's not that far away but I hated to walk there, especially at night, so we always drove. It's faster to get away, too.

The fire is already going and people were already drinking with kegs littered around the sand. I don't know how he gets away with it every year, but I don't like to dwell on it too much, and neither do the boys and Steven is already running toward one of the kegs but Conrad lags behind Jeremiah and me. I turn around and ask him if he's coming and he pulls his hood over his head and nods without really answering me.