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

Mom has been in and out of here all day, presumably checking to see that I’m still breathing before screaming at me over and over again about responsibility and taking care of my health and how I could have killed myself. I let her words bounce off me and roll around on the floor. She told Annie. She took my deepest secret and just handed it over like it was nothing. And then Annie told Courtney, who told the world. I will never, ever trust any of them again. They have ruined my life.

My phone has been buzzing all day with messages and voice mails from Annie. I open the texts and delete them immediately. I want Annie to see on her phone that I got her messages but didn’t reply. I want her to suffer.

I thought she was different. I thought we were different. But she betrayed me just like Courtney and Larissa.

When I think about last night, I may as well be back in seventh grade, alone on the playground, because I feel exactly the same way I did back then—small and worthless and ashamed.

Annie

Jess is a total bitch.

I’ve talked to her mom twice now, so I know she’s awake and that she’s okay, but she refuses to pick up the phone when I call. I’ve sent her a million texts that she won’t reply to, and I just tried messaging her on Facebook to find that she unfriended me.

Happy Birthday to me, right?

I know she’s mad I told Courtney, but she won’t even let me explain. I did what I did to help her. I was being a friend.

If she were truly my friend, she would hear me out. She’d let me explain, at least. And then we’d talk about it. But no. Like always, Jessie is convinced that she’s right and that everyone is against her. She’s probably pouting in her room, thinking about how awful I am. Like I’m the one who got wasted and started hanging all over her boyfriend.

I read the books Mrs. Avery gave me, and I feel like I understand about her anxiety and depression. But here’s the thing: I don’t think those are excuses for being a shitty friend. I don’t see why I always have to be the one to overlook stuff and be understanding and she gets to be as immature and demanding as she wants.

Not to mention that you’d think she’d be cutting me some slack right now. She’s so fucking self-involved. She is the only person on earth who knows that I’m pregnant. Shouldn’t she be worrying about my feelings for five minutes? Shouldn’t she make some allowances for me?

I leave her one last voice mail. I tell her I’m sorry and that it was a misunderstanding. I tell her I want the chance to talk to her about it and show her my side of things. I’m not going to chase after her forever. If she values our friendship, she’ll give me a chance and call me back. If I don’t hear from her, then I’ll know her answer.

Ugh.

I so don’t need this right now, on top of everything else.

Like I wasn’t feeling shitty enough.

All last night at the party I felt like such a fraud. It’s eating me up inside, keeping this secret from Scott. I know I should tell him I’m pregnant. This affects him, too, and he should know. But I just can’t bring myself to do it.

It’ll change everything. The easy, fun connection we have will get strained and awkward. We’ll have real, grown-up decisions to make. I’m not ready for that. I want to be happy and carefree and young for a while longer. I’ve been sixteen for only twenty-four hours, for Christ’s sake.

Plus, I have absolutely no idea how he’ll react to this news. I don’t even know how I want him to react. Even the thought of having this conversation with him short-circuits my brain. This cannot be real. It cannot be happening to me.

What if he breaks up with me? What if he decides this is all too much for him and he just leaves? What will I do then?

If I get an abortion, I might not even need to talk to him. Maybe I can just pretend that none of this ever happened. I can stay with Scott and keep all my friends and still be me.

I can’t tell him yet. I need to decide what I want to do first. I don’t want to ruin everything for no reason.

Jessie

She’s done? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

I stabbed at the screen of my phone, replaying Annie’s last voice mail.

How dare she?

Even the tone of her voice made me livid. She was so smug: “I’ve called and texted you all day, but you refuse to talk to me. You even blocked me on Facebook. That’s not how friends treat each other, Jessie. And the day after my birthday, too. If you’re really my friend, you’ll call me and we’ll talk this through. You don’t know my side of the story at all. I have so many things to tell you, but I’m done chasing you. If you don’t want to talk to me, then fine. Walk away. But if you do value our friendship, please call me back and we’ll talk.”

I could almost see her shrugging her shoulders and giving up, and it pissed me off. She expended what? . . . Like five hours of effort into making it up to me? A bunch of worthless texts and phone calls? If it had been me, I would have gone to her house, sent her apology flowers—anything to show that I was sorry and that I cared about her.

I threw my phone down and pulled my laptop toward me. I’d been trolling Facebook all day, looking for references to the party. I hit Refresh and held my breath as it reloaded. Still nothing. I wasn’t sure