How It Ends (24 page)

When the texts finally stop, I sit staring at my phone for a few minutes, and then I do something that I'm quite sure proves there's something seriously wrong with me. I read them. Each and every one. Even though I know I should just delete them unread, some sick and demented part of me wants to know. So I read every hateful message.

When I'm done, I lie awake while the words float around in my brain. Three o'clock melts into four, and four o'clock turns to five, and I still haven't slept at all. Every time I close my eyes, I see the words.
Slut. Bitch. Loser. Fat. Stupid. Worthless.
I hear angry, hate-filled voices hissing at me in the dark. Voices of people who used to be my friends.

Why?

I'm still the same girl who sat with them all at lunch last week. I'm still the girl Scott said he loved. How can I walk through one day and into the next and suddenly be so hated, when I haven't changed at all? How can someone be considered pretty and popular one day and be a stupid, fat slut the next? Was there something in me that they've only just noticed?

I think of Madge and the way she looks at me—like something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. Has everyone seen that part of me now? Are they mad because I had them all fooled and now they've seen the truth? Do I
deserve
this?

I've spent hours thinking about myself and what I've done. It's true that I wasn't as careful as I should have been about sex. I didn't make Scott wear a condom, and I wasn't on birth control. Is that totally fucked up? Is that why everyone thinks I'm a freak? It's a lie what Scott said—I wasn't trying to trap him into anything, and I didn't set out to get pregnant. I never thought of him as needing to be trapped.

Why is everyone so mad that I had sex with Scott? I can't figure out why that makes me this horrid slut when all my friends are having sex too. Larissa can bat her eyelashes and play the innocent all she wants, but everyone
knows
she's been sleeping with Jon since practically the day they started going out. Why aren't people writing on
her
locker and sending her ugly texts? Where did I go wrong?

The sun is starting to come up. I don't want to go to school today. I won't go. Tomorrow I'll hold my head high and pretend I'm okay. But not today.

It's been a whole week, and Annie still hasn't come back to school.

This is
not
my fault. So why does my stomach churn every time I think about my message to Scott? I keep going back and rereading it until the pressure in my chest is unbearable.

I only meant to nudge him. He was going to find out at some point anyway. Annie said herself that she was going to tell him and that they'd make decisions about what to do together.

And it's not my fault that everyone at school found out. That was one hundred percent Scott, the disgusting jerk. I can't believe he turned out to be this person. I'd never have said anything if I'd known. He was supposed to be the quintessential hero, not a villain in disguise. What kind of guy drags a girl's name through the dirt and then walks around school like
he's
the victim?

Annie hasn't responded to any of my messages, and her phone has been off all week. I keep hoping and praying that she'll come back to school and everything will be okay. She'll be tough and angry and sarcastic and funny, and she'll bounce right back because she's
Annie
and because Scott and Courtney and everyone else pale in comparison to her.

But day after day I wait by her locker to find no sign of her, and her desk sits empty in history class.

I can't believe she's still hiding out at home. She's not allowed to be this fragile. She's
Annie.

Please God, tell me I'm imagining things.

I swear Madge is checking out my stomach. Like every two minutes.

I keep
almost
catching her, but every time I look over, she does that thing people do when they suddenly look away and pretend they're not watching you.

“Broccoli, Anne?” she asks, passing it to me. I shake my head and put the bowl down without taking any, and Madge's eyebrows shoot up so high I swear they're going to take flight. I bite my lip and consider. Is this the face of an overly controlling stepmother or a woman concerned with the nutrition of my unborn child?

I swallow a crazed giggle. The paranoia is making me downright manic.

On a whim, I jump up from the table and grab a Coke from the fridge. My stomach flops over as I head back into the dining room and pop open the can. Madge jumps like it's the sound of gunfire, and her lips go white as she presses them into a straight line.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

She can't know. I'm being paranoid.

“Delicious as ever, Madeleine,” my dad says, getting up and planting a kiss on Madge's forehead. She smiles up at him, but it's a sad smile that doesn't reach her eyes. She looks over at me as my dad leaves the room. “Would you help me clean up please, Anne?”

Sophie starts reaching for dishes, but Madge puts her hand on her arm. “I need a few minutes with Anne, please.”

Fuck.

I slump in my chair as Sophie scurries out of the room.
My life is over.

The second Sophie clears the doorway, Madge is on me. “I cannot believe you've gotten yourself into this situation.” Her words are heavy and dark, and they press down on me, pinning me to my chair.

I blink at her while the enormity of what she's said sinks in, and then my mind goes wild. I'm cursed. First Scott, then school and Courtney and Facebook, and now Madge. Why can't I get two freaking seconds of peace to figure things out? I want to run away and hide in my room, but Madge
knows
and she's going to tell my dad and I'm not ready for any of this. I put my head in my hands to try to hold my brain together.

“So it's true, then,” she says, heaving a sigh and slumping in her chair. “I'd hoped it was just an online rumor.”

“Online . . . ” A terrible thought worms its way into my head. “Sophie.”

I flash back to the day she added me on Facebook. Of course. She saw the whole thing play out online. Something cracks open inside me. Sophie watched me being attacked and never once came to my defense or tried to talk to me about it. She just ratted me out to her mother instead.
What happens on Facebook stays on Facebook.

“She saw something on the computer and let me know. You should be thanking her. You're in way over your head.” Her message is clear: I'm a stupid
kid
who played at grown-up things.

I let my head fall forward so it's resting on the table. I just want to give up. My life is a nightmare I can't wake up from.

“How could you let this happen, Anne? You're supposed to be smarter than this. Your father is always going on and on about what a smart girl you are and what a good head you've got on your shoulders.” Madge stands up and starts pacing the room, throwing words at me like daggers. She's
enjoying
this, I realize. I've let her win. I've finally proved that I'm the screwed-up kid she always believed I was.

She pauses and turns triumphantly toward me. “What do you think would happen if I told your father about this?”

I shrug, refusing to show her the fear she's hungry for.

“Shall we tell him, then?”

I nod with as much dignity as I can muster and move to get up, but she puts her arm out to stop me and searches my face. “You're really prepared to do that?”

What the fuck?
“Yes. I mean . . . No. Do I have a choice?”

“There are always choices.” She sits down beside me, pinning me with her gaze. “Your father would be heartbroken, you know. And men are unpredictable. If he's brought into this, it might limit your choices.”

“What choices?”

“Men don't always understand the challenges we women face. I'm presuming you recognize that you are in no position at sixteen to be raising a baby. Correct?”

I duck my head in response.

“Good. Which then leaves you with two choices . . . having the baby and putting it up for adoption, or having an abortion. If your father gets a say, I'm not sure abortion will still be on the table.”

My mouth falls open in horror.

“Oh, don't look so shocked, Anne. Surely you've thought of that possibility.” She takes a deep breath. “Listen, being a mother is not an easy road, even for those of us who do things in the right order and at the correct age. You are in no position to care for a baby. You can't even manage to take care of yourself.”

Why isn't she marching me into my dad's office and exposing me as a total fuckup? Madge doesn't give a shit about me, I know that.

“Why would you help me?”

She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. “I've worked very hard to build a life with your father, Anne. A baby in this house would be a disaster, and I couldn't bear to see what it would do to your dad.”

I watch her face, looking for signs that she's lying. That she's trying to trap me.

“What about adoption?” I don't want to admit it, but I've been thinking more and more about having an abortion. The whole problem could just go away. I could go back to being Annie again. I could even pretend that I was never pregnant and that this was all a big misunderstanding.

Madge cocks her head to one side, as though she's talking to a young child. “A noble alternative, sure, but it hardly solves your problems, does it?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You'd still have to deal with being pregnant. You'd have to admit it to your father. And it's hardly gone well with your friends so far, has it? Do you want all your teachers to know too?”

“No. But . . . I don't know. I need more time to think.”

Madge eyes my belly. “You probably still have a bit of time, but if you want to put an end to the rumors, I'd get it done soon.” She twists her face into an expression I'm sure she means to be comforting. “I'll tell you what, Anne. I'll do the research and figure out where we need to go. I can make you an appointment, and we'll take care of this problem.”

I know she's being selfish, but it's pretty damn tempting to let her take over. If Madge gets her hands dirty helping me arrange an abortion, she'll hardly be able to rat me out later. I smile encouragingly at her and nod.

A slow smile stretches across her face. “Good. I knew you'd listen to reason.” And then her eyes harden. “I don't think I need to tell you that this would be best kept between us. We don't need everyone getting all worked up over a little accident, right?”

“Right,” I say, eager to escape the conversation.

“Go on, then. I'll make the appointment and we'll put this behind us.” She waves her hand dismissively, and I scuttle around her and fly through the dining room door to find Sophie pacing in the hallway outside.

“I'm so sorry—”

“Fuck you, Sophie,” I hiss, pushing past her roughly. “Never talk to me again.”

“Annie!” she calls after me, but I don't turn around. I race to my room and lock the door behind me, then collapse in relief with my back against the door.

I hunched over my history textbook, my elbows on the table and my hands resting like blinders against the sides of my head. Studying in the cafeteria was about the dumbest idea I'd ever had. I'd hoped the chaos would drown out the noise in my head, but I couldn't focus any better than in the library or at home.

I let my head fall forward onto my textbook. I was going to bomb the test. It was inevitable.

“Still too busy to eat lunch with us?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped I was imagining things.

“Jessie? I know you're under there.”

I turned my head to the side and peeked out from under my hair.

Jody.

“Hi,” I mumbled, sitting up. “I was just . . .”

“Hoping the information would jump out of the textbook and into your brain?” Jody dropped into a chair across from me and pried open a bag of chips. “Want one?”

I shook my head, squinting at her.

“So, how come you're sitting over here all alone?” She leaned forward and winked at me conspiratorially. “What's taking you so long to come join us?”

“Oh! I just . . . I figured . . . I mean, I have to study.”

“Mmhmm. Okay, I'm going to be totally honest with you. I'm here on a mission, and I'm not leaving until you agree to come talk to Charlie. I can't take one more day of watching him pine over you.”

“Charlie?” I sputtered. “But . . . I thought you two were . . .”

Jody laughed and shook her head at me. “You're kidding, right? That boy is completely obsessed with you.”

I blushed. “
Was
obsessed, maybe. I'm pretty sure I screwed things up bigtime.”

“Ah. I presume we're talking about the infamous comic book?”

I groaned and let my head fall back onto the table.

“So you did read it?”

“I'm a loser,” I moaned.

“Not according to him, you're not.”

I raised my head and met her eyes. “I told him I'd read it, but I really hadn't, and then I picked it up months later. I felt like too much of an idiot to say anything, so I've been ignoring it ever since.”

The right side of Jody's mouth twitched as she tried not to smile. “You two are perfect for each other. You're both a comedy of errors.”

I hid my face in my hands.

“I'm serious,” she said. “This is the kind of story you'll tell your grandkids one day.”

“That's assuming he'd ever want to talk to me again.”

“Trust me,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “He's been mooning over you since the day I met him. Let's go.”