How It Ends (21 page)

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.

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 my mind. It doesn't help that my mother has been screaming at me about it all day. And she doesn't even know a fraction of what happened.

Annie betrayed me.

The night started out so promising, which is what really kills me. I remember how confident I felt on the way to the party. I'd cashed in on my mother's relief that I was actually attending a real high school party, and we'd spent the entire day preparing. She bought me an outrageously expensive new outfit, took me to the salon to have my hair smoothed into shiny waves, and to Sephora to have my makeup professionally done. I felt pretty and hopeful and excited. I was so, so stupid. What made me think that dressing up would make me into someone new?

Things started into a downward spiral pretty much from the time I walked into Larissa's house. My finger had barely touched the doorbell when a frazzled-looking Larissa whipped open the door and yanked me into the house by my jacket. “Hi, Jess,” she said absently, spotting some boys sneaking through a door behind her. “Back downstairs!” she yelled, her hands shaking as she pointed them back to the basement. “Can you help?” She begged me. “My parents aren't home and things are getting out of control. This is the first time they've trusted me with an unsupervised party, and way too many people are here. I think Courtney invited the whole world.”

She didn't even notice my new hairstyle or my two-hundred-dollar jeans. And when I pulled the bottles of vodka I'd stolen from my parents' liquor cabinet out of my pockets with a flourish, she jumped between me and the basement door and hissed, “Put those away!

“There's way too much booze down there already. I want everyone to stop drinking,” she explained, wringing her hands. “Someone's gonna puke on the carpet, I just know it.”

I stuffed the bottles back in my jacket and left it on the couch in the living room. This was not starting out the way I had hoped.

“Should . . . should we go downstairs?” I prompted.

“In a sec. I'm giving everyone till nine thirty to arrive, and then the doors stay closed. I just want to make sure no one is hanging around the front of the house before then. My neighbors will notice if tons of people show up at once.”

I sighed and leaned against the wall, reassuring myself that my entrance would be grander if I was the last to come downstairs.

“Grab a Coke or something,” Larissa said, waving her hand in the direction of the kitchen. I bit my lip and considered. It was a shame to have gone to the trouble of stealing all that vodka for nothing. And maybe a little liquid courage was just what I needed.

I grabbed one of the bottles on my way past the couch and scurried into the kitchen. I found a stack of red plastic cups on the counter and fumbled with the cap on the vodka bottle before sloshing some into the bottom of a cup. How much was I supposed to add? I eyed the inch of clear liquid at the bottom of the cup and decided to fill it halfway. I wanted enough to take the edge off, and I probably wouldn't get the chance to mix another drink, with Larissa watching everyone like a hawk.

I topped up the cup with Coke and then stashed the vodka bottle under the sink. I was expecting the worst when I took a sip, but it wasn't bad at all. I took a huge gulp for courage and then joined Larissa by the front door.

At nine thirty she turned out the lights. “Thanks for the help. Let's go have fun.” Her voice was strained, though, and I realized she wouldn't be enjoying the party very much.

“Larissa!” Emily Watson called happily as we came down the stairs. “We're almos' out of drinks!”

Larissa grabbed a can of Coke off the nearest table. “Drink this.”

“But there's nothing left to put in it,” Emily whined, sticking out her lower lip.

Larissa shrugged and wandered off. Emily regarded me coolly. “I don't suppose
you
brought any alcohol.”

“Nope!” Larissa shouted from a few feet away, shooting me a warning glance.

I sighed and shook my head, then took another gulp of my drink and turned to survey the room. So much for unveiling my new look. No one really seemed to care who else was here. They were huddled in couples or small groups, talking and laughing. I'd imagined my first high school party looking different than this. This just looked like people hanging out after school.

Annie caught my eye from across the room and gave a happy wave. Then Scott pulled her over to a snack table and I lost sight of her in a group of people.

“Where's Courtney?” I asked Larissa, working hard to appear casual.

“Oh shit! I almost forgot. She went on a booze run like an hour ago. Her fake ID is totally sketchy, though. She'll never score anything.”

I ventured over to the snack table and grabbed a handful of chips . . . and then I started to panic. Even though no one had even noticed me, I suddenly felt like there was a spotlight on my isolation. I searched the crowd for Annie and found her sitting on a couch in the back corner with Scott. Clearly, they wanted to be alone. I feared looking like a loser far more than I feared intruding on a private moment, though, so I took another sip of my drink and made my way over there.

“Happy birthday, Annie!” I shouted over the music.

She smiled up at me and rolled her eyes. “You're the first person to say that to me.” Scott nudged her, and she laughed. “Okay . . . the
second
person.” She patted the couch beside her, and I sat down. “Larissa and Courtney were just looking for an excuse to party. They say it's for my birthday, but you'll notice they're not overly interested in what I'm doing.”

Scott put his arm around her consolingly. “Poor you,” he joked. “Stuck here with me and Jess.” He leaned over and winked at me, turning my insides to liquid fire.

“I guess I'll just have to cope,” Annie said, laughing.

I pulled an envelope out of my bag and presented it to her with a flourish. “Happy sixteenth!”

Annie's eyes went wide as she opened the card and found the gift certificate to Morton's Art Supply inside. “Jess!” she said, blinking back tears. “This is my favorite place in the world.” She gave me a long hug. “Thank you.”

I pulled back and searched her eyes. She's been in denial about the whole pregnancy thing. She won't even talk about it.

Annie winked at me and clutched the card to her chest before leaning forward and resting her forehead against mine.

“You okay?” I whispered.

She nodded. “This helps.”

I took another sip of my drink and settled back into the couch, feeling warm and . . . happy. The alcohol was starting to do its job, and I felt so wondrously relaxed and content. Prozac alone has never done this for me. Prozac mixed with alcohol was amazing.

And that's where my memory gets choppy. The parts of the night I do remember are vivid, but no matter how hard I try, I can't piece together what happened in between those memories. It makes me sick to think of what I may have forgotten.

After being on the couch with Annie and Scott, I suddenly found myself in a group of girls who had their claws out, gossiping mercilessly about our classmates. Emily was there, and Larissa, which is tragic, because I remember clearly how I bashed Courtney and called her a bitch. I felt like I was flying at the time, though, and I suddenly understood why Courtney is so mean. I felt powerful and beautiful and free. Being on the inside was like a drug, and when the other girls laughed at my impersonation of Courtney, the pure joy of it flooded my veins.

A heartbeat later and I was back on the couch with Scott. I don't know where Annie was. I was sleepy, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. He was asking me something, but I couldn't make out the words. I knew I should lift my head and look at him, but it felt so good to lean into his strong arm and pretend that he was my boyfriend for a few minutes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, moving away from me so that my head bobbed.

He caught hold of my chin and searched my face with those puppy dog eyes of his. “Mmmhmmm,” I said, smiling. “So happy tonight.”

His face melted into a smile that showed off his dimples. “Jessica Avery,” he scolded playfully, “you've been drinking.”

“Shhhh!” I said, flirting with him. “Don't tell my mom.”

His laugh was deep, and I felt it vibrating in my chest. He was so perfect.
I love you,
I thought to myself.

But when his eyes widened and he jumped up off the couch, it dawned on me that perhaps I'd said the words out loud.

“I think maybe it's time we got you home,” he said, backing away like I might leap on top of him.
I definitely said them out loud.

Then I was dancing in a crowd by the speakers and the room was swirling around me in the most intoxicating way. I felt like I was one beat ahead of the music all the time, dancing the way I'd always wished I could.
This must be the key to dancing,
I thought.
Letting go.

Then Courtney was beside me. “I see we've conquered our anxiety for the evening,” she shouted over the music. The words slithered out of her mouth and wrapped themselves around my chest, squeezing with that familiar pressure. I wanted to punch her for ruining my moment of freedom. I was suddenly hyperaware of my body, and I went from dancing with abandon to stumbling over my own feet.

I pushed my sweaty hair back and met Courtney's gaze. “What did you say?”

“You know, your crippling anxiety that prevents you from being normal—it doesn't seem to be a problem tonight. You seem super comfortable hanging out with all my friends and calling me a bitch.”

The room swayed while I tried to make sense of what she was saying. Now that I was standing still, the room should really have stopped moving. I opened my mouth to toss a witty comeback her way . . .

And instead I puked. All over Courtney.

Larissa screeched, the music stopped, and all of a sudden all eyes were on me. I swayed for a moment, and Annie was there to prop me up.
Annie. Courtney.
A horrible truth was revealing itself in my mind.

“Have you been drinking?” Annie asked, her face contorted with disbelief. I stared at her, letting Courtney's words play back in my head.
Crippling anxiety.

“Jessie,” Annie said slowly, looking worried, “is it okay to mix alcohol with your medication?”

My medication?
I yanked my arm away from her and swayed dangerously, afraid I might throw up again. “What are you talking about—medication?”

Annie fidgeted, looking around for support.

“Oh for
fuck's sake,
” Courtney yelled, pulling her soaking shirt away from her body. “Your
crazy girl
meds. The ones that keep you from being a complete and utter psycho like you are right now.”

The last thing I saw before the room went black was Annie's guilt-ridden face.

The next thing I knew, I was being loaded into my mom's car, and she was on the phone with someone asking about drug interactions. Annie was crying and apologizing over and over again. And that's when I put it together. I heard my mother's voice in my mind—
I think it might be time for you to tell Annie about your anxiety.
I leaned forward, puked all over her car, and then surrendered to the darkness again.

That's all I remember before waking up this morning with a headache so intense I thought someone was cracking my skull open.

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.

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.