its not summer without you book cover

Its Not Summer Without You Chapter 33 Free Read Online

by

Full Read the Online Chapter 33 of Its Not Summer Without You Book PDF by Jenny Han for free.

Its Not Summer Without You Chapter 33: “Bel y.”

I tried to roll over, but then I heard it again, louder. “Bel y!” Someone was shaking me awake.

I opened my eyes. It was my mother. She had dark circles around her eyes and her mouth had all but disappeared into a thin line. She was wearing her house sweats, the ones she never left the house in, not even to go to the gym. What in the world was she doing at the summer house?

There was a beeping sound that at first I thought was the alarm clock, but then I realized that I had knocked the phone over, and it was the busy signal I was hearing. And then I remembered. I’d drunk-dialed my mother. I’d brought her here.

I sat up, my head pounding so hard it felt like my heart was hammering inside it. So this was what a hangover felt like. I’d left my contacts in and my eyes were burning. There was sand all over the bed and some was stuck on my feet.

My mother stood up; she was one big blur. “You have five minutes to pack up your stuff.”

“Wait … what?” “We’re leaving.”

“But I can’t leave yet. I still have to—”

It was like she couldn’t hear me like I was on mute. She started picking my things up off the floor, throwing Taylor’s sandals and shorts into my overnight bag.“Mom, stop! Just stop for a minute.”

“We’re leaving in five minutes,” she repeated, looking around the room.

“Just listen to me for a second. I had to come. Jeremiah and Conrad needed me. ”The look on my mother’s face made me stop short. I’d never seen her angry like this before.

“And you didn’t feel the need to tell me about it? Beck asked me to look after her boys. How can I do that when I don’t even know they need my help? If they were in trouble, you should have told me. Instead, you chose to lie to me. You lied.”

“I didn’t want to lie to you—,” I started to say.

She kept on going. “You’ve been here doing God knows what …”

I stared at her. I couldn’t believe she’d just said that. “What does that mean, ‘God knows what’?”

My mother whirled around, her eyes al wild. “What am I supposed to think?

You snuck out here with Conrad before and you spent the night! So you tell me.

What are you doing here with him? Because it looks to me like you lied to me so you could come here and get drunk and fool around with your boyfriend.”

I hated her. I hated her so much.

“He’s not my boyfriend! You don’t know anything!”

The vein in my mother’s forehead was pulsing. “You call me at four in the morning, drunk. Your smartphone rings, but it immediately goes to voice mail. All I receive when I call the home phone is a busy signal. I spend the entire night driving, worrying out of my mind, and when I arrive, the house is in shambles. Beer cans everywhere, trash all over the place. What the hell do you think you’re doing, Isabel? Or do you even know?”

The walls in the house were really thin. Everyone could probably hear everything.

I said, “We were going to clean it up. This was our last night here. Don’t you get it? Mr. Fisher is selling the house. Don’t you care?”

She shook her head, her jaw tight. “Do you really think you’ve helped matters by meddling? This isn’t our business. How many times do I have to explain that to you?”

“It is so our business. Susannah would have wanted us to save this house!”

“Don’t talk to me about what Susannah would have wanted,” my mother snapped. “Now put your clothes on and get your things. We’re leaving.”

“No.” I pulled the covers up to my shoulders. “What?”

“I said no. I’m not going!” I stared up at my mother as defiantly as I could, but I could feel my chin trembling.

She marched over to the bed and ripped the sheets right off of me. She grabbed my arm, and pulled me out of the bed and toward the door, and I twisted away from her. I cried out, “You can’t make me leave.” “There is nothing you can tell me. You lack the authority.

My tears did not move my mother. They only made her angrier. She said, “You’re acting like a spoiled brat. Can’t you look beyond your grief and think about someone else? It’s not all about you. We all lost Beck.

Feeling sorry for yourself isn’t helping anything.”

Her words stung me so badly that I wanted to hurt her back a million times worse.

So I said the thing I knew would hurt her most. I said, “I wish Susannah was my mother and not you.”

How many times had I thought it, wished for it secretly? Susannah was the one I ran to when I was little, not her. I used to wonder what it would be like, to have a mom like Susannah who loved me for me and wasn’t disappointed in all the ways that I didn’t measure up.

I was breathing hard as I waited for my mother to respond. To cry, to scream at me. She didn’t do either of those things. Instead, she said, “How unfortunate for you.”

Even when I tried my hardest, I couldn’t get the reaction I wanted from my mother. She was impenetrable.

I said, “Susannah will never forgive you for this, you know. For losing her house. For letting down her boys.”

My mother’s hand extended and forcefully hit my cheek, causing me to bounce back. I missed it coming. I immediately sobbed while clutching my face, yet I was partially happy. Finally, I was able to achieve my goals. Evidence that she felt anything.

Her face was white. She had never hit me before. Never, not in my whole life. I waited for her to say she was sorry. To say she didn’t mean to hurt me, she didn’t mean the things she’d said. If she said those things, then I would say them too. Because I was sorry. I didn’t mean the things I said.

When she didn’t speak, I backed away from her and then around her, holding my face. Then I ran out of the room, stumbling over my feet.

Jeremiah was standing in the hall way, looking at me with his mouth open. He looked at me like he didn’t recognize me like he didn’t know who this person was, this girl who screamed at her mother and said terrible things. “Wait,” he said, reaching out to stop me.

I pushed past him and moved down the stairs.

In the living room, Conrad was picking up beer bottles and tossing them into a blue recycling bag. He didn’t look at me. I knew he’d heard everything too.

As I ran out the back door, I almost stumbled while going down the beach’s steps. I sank to the ground as I laid on the sand, holding my burning cheek in the palm of my hand. I puked soon after.

Jeremiah’s footsteps behind me were audible. Conrad would have known not to follow me, so I immediately recognized him.

Wiping my mouth, I said, “I just want to be alone.” I did not swerve. I did not want him to see my face.

“Bel y,” he started. He sat down next to me and kicked sand over my throw-up.

When he didn’t say anything more, I looked at him. “What?”

He bit his upper lip. Then he reached out and touched my cheek. His fingers felt warm. He looked so sad. He said, “You should just go with your mom.”

Whatever I’d been expecting him to say, it hadn’t been that. I’d come all this way and I’d gotten in so much trouble, just so I could help him and Conrad, and now he wanted me to leave? Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes and I wiped them away with the back of my hands. “Why?”

“Because Laurel’s really upset. Everything’s gone to crap, and it’s my fault. I never should have asked you to come. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Pretty soon we’ll all have to.” “And that’s it?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

We sat in the sand for a while. I had never felt more lost. I cried a little more, and Jeremiah didn’t say anything, which I was grateful for. There was nothing worse than your friend watching you cry after you just got in trouble with your mother. When I was done, he stood up and gave me his hand. “Come on,” he said, puling me to my feet.

We went back inside the house. Conrad was gone and the living room was clean. My mother was mopping the kitchen floor. When she saw me, she stopped.

She put the mop back into the bucket and leaned it against the wall. Right in front of Jeremiah, she said, “I’m sorry.”

He turned around in the kitchen and walked up the stairs as I turned to face him. I was about to stop him. I wished we hadn’t been left alone. I was scared.

She continued. “You’re right. I’ve been absent. I’ve been so consumed with my own grief, I haven’t reached out to you. I’m sorry for that.”

“Mom—,” I started to say. I was about to tell her I was sorry too, for saying that thing before, that awful thing I wished I could take back. But she lifted her hand up and stopped me.

“I’m just—off balance. Ever since Beck died, I can’t seem to find my equilibrium.” She rested her head against the wall. “I’ve been coming here with Beck since I was younger than you are now. I love this house. You know that.”

“I know,” I said. “I didn’t mean it, what I said before.” My mother nodded. “Let’s sit down a minute, alright?”

She sat down at the kitchen table and I took a seat across from her.

“I shouldn’t have hit you,” she said, and her voice broke. “I’m sorry.” “You never did that before.”

“I know.”

My mother reached across the table and took my hand in hers, tight as a cocoon. At first, I felt stiff, but then I let her comfort me. Because I could see it was a comfort to her, too. We sat like that for what felt like a long time.

When she let go, she said, “You lied to me, Bel y. You never lie to me.”

“I didn’t mean to. But Conrad and Jeremiah are important to me. They needed me, so I went.”

“I wish you would have told me. Beck’s boys are important to me, too. If something’s going on, I want to know about it. Okay?”

I nodded.

Then she said, “Are you al packed? I want to beat Sunday traffic on the way back.”

I stared at her. “Mom, we can’t just leave. Not with everything that’s happening. You can’t let Mr. Fisher sell the house. You just can’t.”

She sighed. “I don’t know that I can say anything to change his mind, Bel y.

Adam and I don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. I can’t stop him from selling the house if that’s what he’s set on.”

“You can, I know you can. He’ll listen to you. Conrad and Jeremiah, they need this house. They need it.”

I set my head down on the table, and the wood was cool and smooth against my cheek. My mother touched the top of my head, running her hand through my tangled hair.

“I’ll call him,” she said at last. “Now get upstairs and take a shower.”

Hopeful you’ll looked up at her and I saw the firm set of her mouth and the narrow of her eyes. And I knew it wasn’t over yet.

If anybody could make things right, it was my mother.

Read Its Not Summer Without You All Parts PDF Free Online

Jenny Han Its Not Summer Without You Full Book Free PDF All chapters:

Share Post To:

Leave a Comment