What happened 2 u last night? Dylan told me u left early.

From Taylor.

Reply to me pls! Looks like something is going on here.

From Taylor.

Hey, It's Dylan. How did you find the party?

From Dylan, obviously.

I had my text planned out in my head. The party was just plain boring. And infuriating. And stressful. And difficult to enjoy. I was just about to text him back when my phone buzzed again.

And BTW if u didn't know, we were Dyl's house last nyt.

Another text from Taylor.

Taylor had just saved me from becoming bitch of the week.

Before I left, though, Dylan asked for my number. He was a cool kid, a person I'd love to hang out with – probably be really close to, too.

A few minutes after I read Taylor's last text to me, I decided to take the day off – a day off from shopping, manicures, spa baths and driving around town to look for boys. It sounded like a good plan.

And for plus points, I knew exactly where I was going.

Away from Taylor and her nuisance that I love.

Away from Conrad Fisher and Sandra and whatever might've been going on between them.

Away from it all.

I was going to Cousins.

X X X

I was on the front porch of the old house.

They never sold it. We just never came back.

I hadn't been in that house since that very summer a few years ago.

I put my hand on the knob.

It was rusty, and it gave me doubts about entering the house.

But when I'd enter, Susannah would be preparing lunch, and I'd hug her. She'd ask me about school and babble on how I've grown. And then I'd go upstairs, into the hallway, and see my room; bed made with floral bed sheets, curtains drawn, books idle, and Junior Mint sitting on the top shelf. From my room, I'd hear Stephen calling my name.

"Belly! Come down!" He'd say.

I'd run down with my bathing suit on.

And then from behind me, Jere and Conrad would carry me to the pool.

"And now, ladies and gents," Jere would say in his commentator voice, "I present to you – the annual belly flop!"

And I'd splash into the pool, go down, down, down, and find myself up again.

And then I'd feel the start of an amazing summer.

I opened the door and my eyes stung a little.

The house was dusty and moldy. And dark. Cobwebs hung on the corners of the ceiling. The floor was mucky and cold.

"I should've thought twice about coming here." I said to myself.

I explored the house a little. Even upstairs, in the rooms.

It took me a few minutes to make my decision on entering the Fisher boys' rooms, but I entered anyway.

Jere's room was just how I have always remembered it. Just emptier. It was a sad feeling, seeing everything gone. I hurt a little inside.

Conrad's room was empty, too, but he left a few of his books on the shelves. One of which was his encyclopedia. He used to bring it around everywhere, bragging how he'd memorized many facts from it. I pulled it out and gave it a good look. It was like those adventure-mystery movies – that super cliché moment when they blow on top of the book cover. I was so close to getting it right, but then I sneezed.

I skimmed through the pages. Some pages were highlighted and torn. I wondered why Conrad had kept it throughout all the years. I was just about to put the book back on the shelf when a piece of paper fell down from some pages that I probably missed.

I looked at what was written on it, and instantly recognized Conrad's handwriting when he was around 12.

"July 2.

Belly Flop again. This time she flipped funnier than before. Stephen and I won't stop laughing.

July 21.

Polar bears actually have dark colored skin and transparent fur. Or is that translucent?

August 4.

I don't want to leave Cousins and have to wait until next year to see the Conklins again. Stephen, particularly."

I smirked a little.

Sooner, I felt tears coming down my cheeks.

I guess that's how it feels, when something that you care about so much can sting you the most; the innocence, the bliss, heck, even the writing about Polar Bears and all that - it's like an endless emotion of grief for loss of it, but at the same time its wishful thinking; like hoping that maybe one day it would come back. And what hurts the most is when you realize that it just never will.