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

all so . . . I just found out. You can’t expect me to know what I want to do right this instant!”

“What do you mean—know what you want to do? What options do you have? You can’t seriously be thinking about having this baby. You’re fifteen, for God’s sake. Are you really going to walk through these halls with a giant pregnant belly for everyone to see?”

“Oh my God,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “I didn’t . . . I mean . . . I haven’t thought about it. I just . . .”

“Look, Annie. Let’s call your doctor and make an appointment. We can ask him about . . . abortions . . . and get information. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, but I’m assuming that there’s some kind of time limit on this sort of thing. Let’s get information first and then decide what to do.”

She gave her head a quick shake, as though she were waking from a dream. “I got it, Jess. Thanks, though.”

“You got what?”

“I’ll go to the doctor and everything. I don’t need you to come.”

“But I want to. I want to help you.”

She looked at me strangely. “I know you want to help, but the only two people who get a say in what we do are me and Scott.”

“Right. Of course. I just thought . . . I mean, you said you needed my help. Why did you drag me in here if you didn’t want me to help?”

“I wanted you here for moral support. Not to schedule an abortion for me. I need to think about things and talk to Scott. This is serious, Jess! It’s a life.”

Her words shamed me. I know it’s a life . . . and yet I can’t help feeling like it’s not, too. This was Annie’s life we were talking about, and I couldn’t believe she wasn’t putting herself first. She made a mistake, for God’s sake! I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that she might consider throwing her entire life away at fifteen because of a mistake.

I nodded at her, embarrassed. “I just want to help,” I said as she fumbled with her bag. “Any way I can, Annie. Seriously. I’m here for you.”

“I know you are,” Annie said, and she gave me a little hug before rushing past me. “I just need some time to think.”

I stayed in the bathroom and watched her go, feeling as if the world were spiraling away from me. How could something so momentous happen in this dingy little room? I gathered my stuff and headed for the door, passing the trash can on the way out. I didn’t want to look inside but couldn’t help myself. The plastic stick was sitting there, right on top of the wastebasket for anyone to see. It looked almost obscene, and I couldn’t believe she hadn’t hidden it at the bottom of the trash or wrapped it in the plastic bag before throwing it away. I stopped, debating, and then grabbed some paper towels and threw them on top, pushing the test down and hiding it from view.

Annie

Before now, I’d always thought that people who couldn’t make up their mind about something were full of shit. I figured they knew what they wanted but didn’t have the balls to admit it and so pretended to be torn. I’d never been torn before.

I am now.

Some days I fall asleep willing myself to miscarry in the night. I don’t want to deal with this shit. I think of my dad finding out, or Madge’s face when she hears . . . even of Scott’s reaction, and I want to be sick, I’m so scared. On those days, I know I need to figure out how to have an abortion. I lie in bed imagining I’m starting to feel cramping coming. I close my eyes so tight I can see flashes of light on my eyelids, and I put all my energy into ending this pregnancy. I send every negative thought I can muster down into my belly and try to push the little baby out of me along with all my frustration and fear and anger.

And then there are days like today. Today, I swear there is a little ball of light inside me. It’s like . . . like I have a treasure no one knows about but me. And it’s something so precious that I have to protect it no matter what. On days like this, I start to think about other ways this story could end. I imagine myself having the baby and giving it up to some fabulous couple who are dying to have a child. They’re smart and rich and young, and they give my little girl or boy the best of everything, and I get to go through the rest of my life knowing I did something selfless and beautiful.

Or I could keep the baby. I imagine myself holding my little one for the first time. In that fantasy, it’s always a girl. I look into her little eyes and fall in love and know that no matter what happens, we’ll have each other. I keep the memory of my own mother alive by being exactly that type of mom to my baby. It’s us against everyone else—everyone who doubted or abandoned me when I got pregnant—and she grows up never having to know anyone like Madge.

And this is what I mean by being torn. Because on the days I don’t want to be pregnant, the feeling is just as strong and as real as on the days when I want to have this baby.

So here I am, less than a week before my sixteenth birthday, holding on to a secret that could completely change my life.

Jessie

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

I can’t get last night out of my brain. I feel like puking every time I think about it, but no matter what I do, the horrifying scenes keep playing over and over again in