How It Ends (12 page)

I focused on Miss Donaghue's voice and pushed back the memories. “Yes,” she said, ignoring the laughter that ensued. “The role of gender and sexual identity is fascinating in this play, and we'll be discussing that in depth. We'll also explore love, ambition, disguises, and mistaken identity. All is not what it seems in the kingdom of Illyria. Or at Illyria High School, as we'll see in this movie.”

Excited chatter broke out as Miss Donaghue got ready to play the movie.

“Hey, Miss D,” someone behind me said, “isn't the girl in this movie the one who went mental?”

And that was it.

Miss Donaghue kept talking. Something about Amanda Bynes. But I couldn't hear a word over the roaring in my head. My throat had closed up and I couldn't get air into my lungs.

Not now,
my brain screamed. I hadn't had an anxiety attack in more than six months, and I'd never had one in the middle of a class.

I could feel the sweat beading on my face. I had to escape. I had to get out of there.

I was sure all eyes were on me, but I couldn't stop to explain. I grabbed my bag and ran for the door, holding my hand over my mouth like I was going to be sick. Miss Donaghue could draw her own conclusions.

I heard her shouting after me, but I burst through the classroom door and ran down the hallway. I had no idea where to go. I just knew I needed to be away from everyone. I had an Ativan in my bag. The emergency pill my mother lets me carry. I just needed a private space and the magic pill, and I'd be okay.

I ran down the stairs and out onto the field. Under the bleachers was perfect. No one would find me there. I skidded into a far corner and wrenched open my bag. I knew the pill container was tucked away in there somewhere.

I dumped everything out onto the dirt. My binders, wallet, textbooks, tampons . . . everything lay jumbled among the candy wrappers and cigarette butts that littered the ground. No pill container. Crying in great, heaving gasps, I shook my bag and heard the reassuring sound of the little pill rattling. My fingers found the zipper to an inside pocket and yanked it open.
Thank God.

I wrenched the top off the bottle, and the pill flew out.

“Fuck!” I screamed so loud I'm sure they must have heard me back at school. I groped around in the dirt and found the tiny pill under a gum wrapper. I snatched it up and pushed it under my tongue before I could think about the disgustingness it had been sitting in. Then I sank to my knees and waited, trying hard to take breaths as deep as I could muster.

It took about twenty minutes, but eventually my heart slowed down and my sobs subsided. I had the lingering feeling that I might throw up, but the panic was gone.

I looked around drowsily, fresh tears in my eyes. Why was I so messed up? How did I go from sitting in English class to sobbing under the bleachers, eating a pill out of the dirt?

God, I hate being me.

I'm packing up to head to Jessie's house when Larissa's text comes in:

911. Meet at Court's in 1 hour.

I squint and double-check the message. 911? I really hope she's exaggerating.

I fire off a text to Courtney.
Plans tonight. What's L's emergency?

I've been looking forward to sleeping over at Jess's house all week. We have a hardcore movie night planned—chick flicks from dusk till dawn. We're in competition to see who can choose the cheesiest romantic comedy ever made, and I'm pretty sure I've got this locked down after raiding Madge's stash of old DVDs. My overnight bag is packed full of junk food and fashion magazines, and Jess has promised a full-on girly spa experience, with mud masks and manicures. Our goal is to have the world's most stereotypical slumber party.

No clue,
Courtney writes back.
But she was crying when she called to come over.

I toss my phone onto the bed and pace my room. I can't just cancel on Jess. She's expecting me any minute. But this isn't like Larissa. God, what if Jon broke up with her? My stomach clenches thinking about how heartbroken she'd be.

If we meet at Courtney's at seven, I could probably stay till eight or eight thirty and still make it to Jessie's before nine o'clock.

I text Courtney back.
I'll be there, but I can't stay long.

L's sleeping over. Stay as long as you can.

I take a deep breath and pull up Jessie's number, then freak out before dialing. I hate lying, but there's no way I can tell her that I'm going over to Courtney's. She'll never understand the reasons why. I send a text instead:
Family crap here and I'm stuck for a bit. Be there by 9?

My hands sweat while I wait for her reply.

Everything ok?
she asks.

I am the worst friend in the world.
Yeah. Just annoying. I'll be there as soon as I can.

Admit it . . . you're just having trouble coming up with cheesy movies and you know you're gonna LOSE.

I laugh.
No way, Avery. You're going DOWN.

I look up and down Courtney's street while I wait for her to answer the door. I'm terrified that Jess will spot me somehow. She lives only a few blocks away.

Courtney whips open the door, and I can hear Larissa's sobs all the way down the hallway.

“Oh, thank God,” Court says, spotting my overnight bag. “I'm so glad you decided to sleep over. She's a wreck.”

Shit.

“This?” I ask, sizing up my bag and stalling for time. “I just . . . it's for just in case.”

“Yeah, well, this is officially the ‘just in case' situation. Larissa's slobbering all over me, and I can't get her to calm down enough to tell me what's wrong. I don't do this emotional shit. You need to get back there
now.
”

It takes us twenty minutes and two rum and Cokes to calm Larissa down. I'm watching the clock and freaking out, murmuring encouraging words out loud while screaming in my head.

“What happened, Liss?” I ask, rubbing her back and praying it doesn't set off another round of sobbing.

She hiccups and swipes at her tearstained cheeks. “It's . . . it's . . . my mom.”

She sits up straighter and takes a long sip from her drink.

“You know how my mom's been working a lot, right?”

Courtney nods her head in response. They've obviously had this discussion before.

“Well, I wanted to Google showtimes for the movies tonight and her phone was on the coffee table, so I figured I'd just use it instead of hunting for mine.” A tear rolls down her cheek. “There was a text sitting there from a guy named Josh. I just had this feeling, you know? So I opened her messages, and there were a ton from him. You guys, she's having an affair. For real.”

I can't think of a single thing to say. I just sit there blinking at Larissa in shock. Luckily, Courtney is as unfazed as ever. “What do you mean
for real?
Are you absolutely positive?”

“Um, yeah. I'm gonna need therapy for the stuff I saw on there.”

“Like sex talk?”

“And pictures.” Larissa shudders.

“All right, Mrs. Riley!” Courtney jokes, bumping her shoulder against Larissa's. “Is this Josh guy hot?”

Larissa laughs through her tears. “Not funny, Court! This is my
mom
we're talking about. What do I
do?
Do I tell my dad? Confront my mom? Pretend like nothing's wrong?”

“You do nothing,” Courtney says, like it's obvious. “It sucks you saw that, but you have a good thing going with your parents still together. You don't want to mess with that.”

“So I just ignore the fact that my mom is
cheating
and pretend everything is fine?”

Courtney shrugs. “The worst thing that ever happened to me was my dad leaving. I haven't seen him in years. It fucked everything up—for me
and
for my mom. You don't want to go through that, Liss. I say you just let things play out between your parents and stay out of it.”

“What would you do, Annie?” Larissa asks.

“I don't know,” I say honestly. “I mean, if it was my stepmother, I'd happily tell my dad. I'd
love
to find a reason to break them up. But if it was my
mom,
it'd be another story. I'd feel like she cheated on me, too. Like she'd cheated on our whole family.”

“Exactly!” Larissa cries. “That's exactly how I feel.”

I go on, feeling like I'm helping. “Maybe tell your mom you found the texts and see what she says. Maybe things aren't as bad as they seem.”

“Maybe . . .” she says doubtfully. “My mom's not the sit-down- and-talk-about-it type, you know?” She takes a deep breath and forces a smile onto her face. “Sorry for bumming you guys out. You probably both had plans for tonight. It means a lot to me that you dropped everything to be here.”

She gives us each a sloppy hug, and the bottom drops out of my stomach. I check the clock: eight thirty. I can still make this work. We just have to keep her calm until all that rum hits her. I've seen Larissa drunk often enough to know that she'll pass out on the couch, and then I'll be able to make a break for it, guilt-free.

“You're not bumming us out,” I assure her. “It's actually kind of a relief to know that my family's not the only messed-up one.”

“Your stepmother sucks, huh?” Courtney says.

“Pretty much. She kind of swooped in on her broom and took over the family.”

“Bitch,” Courtney pronounces, clinking her glass against mine. I look down at my untouched rum and Coke and check the clock again. Maybe just one drink before Jessie's. The stress of trying to keep everyone happy is killing me tonight.

“What's Sophie like?” Larissa asks. “She's so
ridiculously
gorgeous. Don't you just hate her?”

“Sometimes.” My mind wanders back to the night of the party. “But sometimes she surprises me, you know? I wish we were closer. It's just weird becoming insta-sisters. There are all these expectations about how we
should
be, and we're not like that at all.”

I settle back on the couch and pull my feet up. It feels good to talk about this stuff.

We chat about Sophie for a while, then about how creepy Courtney thinks her mom's new boyfriend is, and then about the counseling sessions Larissa's little brother has to attend for anger management. I feel the pressure in my chest loosening as I listen to them bitch about their family dramas. It's such a relief to talk with people who get dysfunction. Jessie's fairy-tale home life makes me feel like shit sometimes.
Jessie.

Oh my God.

I root around in my bag, hunting for my phone. “Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!”

It's 10:13, and there are five texts from Jessie.

You still coming?

It's getting late.

You ok?

Where are you?

Text me back—I'm worried about you!

I let out a low moan that makes Larissa giggle. Clearly we should have cut her off several drinks ago.

“I have to go,” I tell them, scrambling to get my stuff together.

“What's wrong?” Courtney asks, eyes narrowed. “You're not ditching us to go out with Scott, are you?”

“What? No! I was supposed to . . .” I consider making up a lie, but I'm so damn tired of lying. “I was supposed to sleep over at Jessie's tonight, but I came over here first to make sure Larissa was okay, and now I'm so late and she's gonna be pissed.”

I text Jess back while I talk.
SO SO SO sorry. Things are dragging on longer than I thought. Can you forgive me?

Larissa looks like she's going to start crying again. “Why didn't you tell us?”

I shrug and check my phone. Nothing from Jess.

“Okay,” Courtney says, putting her drink down and leaning forward. “This is going to make me sound like a total bitch, but I
have
to ask: What's the deal with you and Jessie?”

“What do you mean?” I ask absently, staring at my phone and willing a response to come up.
Please please please.

“Why are you freaking out? So you came over here to hang out with friends and got caught up. Who cares?” Courtney gathers up our glasses and heads for the kitchen.

I send another text.
Jess? You there?

“Sorry, Liss,” I say, giving her a hug. “I really have to go.”

“Don't worry about it. I'm glad you came.”

Courtney comes back in just as I'm hoisting my bag onto my shoulder. She has three fresh drinks in her hands, and she rolls her eyes when she sees me getting up to leave. “Just text her back and tell her you can't come,” she says. “It's so fucked up that she has you on such a short leash.”

I blink in surprise at the nastiness of her tone. “I'm not on a short leash,” I say as my phone dings. “I had
plans
with her. I wouldn't ditch you or Liss, so why should I ditch her?”