How It Ends by Catherine Lo (classic novels to read .txt) 📗

“Oh, shut up, Court. You are being a bitch,” Larissa said, giving me a little wink.

“I’m not being a bitch, I am a bitch. And without me, there would be no Winter Formal, so quit your complaining.” She turned and pointed a long fingernail at me. “Bitches get stuff done. Remember that. You can put that up on your little geek wall.”

I startled and looked at Annie. She told Courtney about my wall of quotes?

The decorating committee arrived, and Courtney spread them out at a nearby table, firing instructions at them while tapping away on her phone, recruiting an unsuspecting minion into completing her math homework, and flirting with what seemed to be the entire first string of the basketball team.

I had to admit, Courtney got stuff done. She ran that cafeteria table like it was the flight deck of the starship Enterprise.

“Earth to Jessie,” Annie said, waving a hand in front of my face.

“Sorry. I was caught up in the madness.”

She laughed, looking at Courtney in a way that made my insides clench. “It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

“She’s a real force of nature,” I said wryly.

If Annie detected sarcasm, she chose to ignore it. “Like a tornado. Or a hurricane.”

“In terms of destructive potential, yes,” I said, bracing myself. This was where Annie would disagree and extol Courtney’s many virtues.

Except she stayed quiet. I tore my eyes away from the Courtney show to find Annie sneaking glances at Scott’s table. I stabbed at my pasta salad and sank down into my chair. I wish I could say that Scott’s involvement with Annie has diminished my feelings for him, but I’d be lying.

I snuck a glance at my old table from last year and thought about how little things have actually changed. I used to hover around the outskirts of the geeks, pretending to be interested in the differences between the Marvel and DC universes, and now I hover around the popular girls, pretending to care about the theme for the Winter Formal.

I turned my attention back to Annie and watched as she and Scott pretended to be oblivious to each other. And thus began the dance. It plays out the same way every day. Scott can’t come over to our table for at least five minutes without opening himself up to the taunts of his fellow Neanderthals, so he pretends to be completely disinterested in our table until then. If it takes too long, Annie texts him under the table, pretending not to care that he hasn’t come to talk to her yet. He gets the message, rolls his eyes, and then uses it as an excuse to come talk.

Who says my new lifestyle is without its entertainments?

Thank God for Ativan.

Annie

It’s been six days, fifteen hours, and forty-five minutes since I last saw Scott. I slump down on the couch and check my phone for the millionth time this morning. I texted him a Merry Christmas as soon as I woke up, but he has yet to respond.

“Put your phones away, girls,” Madge says, sweeping into the room wearing a Santa hat. “It’s Christmas!”

“It’s seven o’clock in the morning,” Sophie grumbles, stashing her phone in the pocket of her robe. “Why are we up so early?”

“Because Santa was here,” Madge trills, handing my dad a cup of coffee and taking her seat beside the tree. “Time for presents.”

I slide my phone under my leg, knowing I’ll feel it vibrate if Scott texts. He’s in Florida for the holidays, visiting family friends. His mom made a point of telling me all about how perfect their sixteen-year-old daughter is before they left. I’m pretty sure she’s planned their wedding already.

“This one’s for you, Annie,” Madge says, dropping a heavy box onto my lap. “At least try to look happy.”

I stretch my mouth into the widest smile I can manage, and Madge shakes her head at me before handing Sophie a tiny square box wrapped in gold paper. I steel myself for disappointment. Dad lets Madge do all the shopping, so Christmas morning is basically me pretending to like the junk she picks out for me while overlooking the fact that Sophie’s gifts are about a million times nicer.

Sure enough, Sophie unwraps a delicate pair of earrings that are so her, while I unwrap a fully stocked makeup kit that is so not me.

“Do you like it?” Madge asks. “You looked so pretty the night Sophie did your makeup, so I thought you’d like some of your own. To replace all that black eyeliner.”

I’m searching for the words to respond when my phone vibrates under my leg, bringing a smile to my face and saving the day. “It’s great,” I say with real feeling.

Madge blinks in shock, and my dad pats her affectionately on the knee.

I jump up, concealing my phone against my leg. “I just have to use the bathroom,” I say. “Be right back.”

I rush into the bathroom and swipe my thumb across the phone screen. 1 new picture/video message. My knees go weak.

Merry Christmas! Celebrating with breakfast on the beach. I scroll down to find a photo someone has taken of him at the breakfast table. That someone undoubtedly being his mother, because she’s taken great care to include the gorgeous brunette sitting next to him. I zoom in to get a better look. Who wears a bikini to the breakfast table? And why is she sitting so close to him?

I swallow my panic and text back, Miss you xox, even though what I want to write is Who’s the chick?

The rest of the gift opening is a blur. I can’t get the picture out of my head, and all I want to do is go back to bed and hide under the covers, with loud music blaring.

As soon as Madge finishes opening her last gift from my dad, I jump up to head for my room.

“Annie,” she calls after me. “You need to help clean up here.”

I feel like