How It Ends Catherine Lo (the first e reader TXT) 📖

“Why’d you choose me?”

“For wha—” She was on the verge of sleep, and part of me knew I should leave her alone. But a bigger part needed to know the answer to that question.

“To be friends with . . . on the first day of school . . .” I cringed when I heard the words come out of my mouth, and I half hoped that she was too asleep to have heard me.

Annie sat up on the bed and crossed her legs, pushing her hair off her face. “What do you mean, I chose you? You’re the one who talked to me first.”

She was wrong, though. I remember that day clearly. “No,” I told her. “You talked to me first. You asked if I was in your English class.”

“You’re crazy, Jess. I thought you looked really nice and that you’d make a good friend, but it was you who asked about English class.”

I started to get frustrated. Annie should know me better than that. Admittedly, I’ve never told her about my anxiety, but she’s supposed to be my best friend. She should understand me. She should know that there’s no way I’d ever be able to initiate that kind of conversation.

“Whatever. Why me?”

“Why you—what? Why did I think you looked nice?”

“I guess so . . .”

She narrowed her eyes. “We’ve talked about this before. I liked how genuine you were.”

“But you could have been friends with anyone. With someone more popular. Why are you hanging out with me?”

“I thought we were friends . . .”

“Yeah, but—”

Annie flicked on the light and looked at me like I was crazy. “What the fuck, Jess. Do you want to be my friend or not?”

I shrank back from her anger. Why was she getting so upset? I was paying her a compliment and telling her how popular she could be. “Of course I want to be your friend. You’re my very best friend ever.”

“Then why are you pushing me away?”

“I’m n-not!” I dug my nails into my palms, but I couldn’t stop the sob from rising up. I felt like such a baby and wished I’d just kept my mouth shut.

Annie looked shocked. “Are you crying? What’s the matter with you?”

I don’t know. “I just . . .”

She sighed like a reluctant child being forced to make nice. “Jessie. You’re my best friend. I don’t know why. It doesn’t matter why. Why do you have to overthink everything?”

“You’re right.” I nodded my head and fought to keep my voice casual. “I’m just tired, I think. You’re my best friend too.”

She smiled at me and reached over to turn out the light. “Go to sleep, you big loser.” Her tone was teasing, but the words stung.

The thing is, I know I’m a loser. That’s kind of the whole point. I’ve let Annie into my world little by little since the first day of school, and I’ve gotten comfortable showing her the real me. The me I normally keep hidden. I have this horrible feeling that she’s going to get tired of me soon. Tired of all the stuff that happens in my head and the limited confines of my room.

I know I’m spiraling right now. I know my therapist would tell me that I’m disaster planning and perseverating. But I can’t stop. Annie was my insurance policy against the loneliness and the worrying. She made me feel normal. What’ll I do if I lose her now?

Annie

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jessie asks for the millionth time.

I lie back on my pillow, pressing my cell phone against my ear and silently screaming at her to just leave it alone.

“I’m fine, Jess. Really. I appreciate the call, but I just want to be alone tonight.”

“Okay. If you change your mind, I’m home. You can always come over.”

“You’re a good friend,” I tell her before ending the call.

And she is. A good friend, that is. The only one of my friends who remembered about today.

It’s the sixth anniversary of my mom’s accident.

I check my messages again and sigh. Not one of my old friends from the Nonconformists remembered. No texts, Facebook messages, emails, or missed calls. That cuts me so deep I can barely breathe. Some of those girls knew my mom. I can’t believe they forgot.

I fucking hate Halloween.

Tonight Madge and Sophie are dressed in lame costumes, getting ready to hand out candy together. My dad is hiding in his office, pretending to work. And I’m here in my room, huddled under the covers.

I can hear the shouts and laughter of kids all up and down the street, and it’s like fingernails on a chalkboard. Even though I know it’s irrational, it offends me that people can celebrate on the night my mom died.

My phone rings again and I check the screen. Scott. I swallow hard and shove the phone under my pillow. He and Larissa have been calling all night, trying to convince me to go over to Jon’s with them. He’s having a “party.” A party only six people are invited to. Which basically means his parents are out of town and he’s inviting people to come drink and hook up in his basement.

Don’t get me wrong . . . I love making out with Scott. But not tonight. Not with my mom watching over me.

The ringing stops and seconds later, my phone dings with an incoming text. I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration. Fucking take the hint. I haven’t told any of them about my mom, so it’s not like they’re being total assholes, but come on. I told them I couldn’t go out tonight. Just leave it alone.

My phone dings again, and I pull the covers up over my head.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Seriously? I whip the covers back and yank the phone out from under my pillow. I’ll just turn it off. None of my old friends are going to call anyway.

Ding.

I wipe away tears of frustration and try to focus on the screen.

Five text messages . . . now six. All from Courtney:

Look outside.

I brought you a treat!

I hate