How It Ends

by Catherine Lo

  When Annie pushed her tray away and pulled out her science textbook, inspiration struck. I leaned in close, hoping no one would overhear. “Want to go study in the library with me?”

  Annie looked up at me right as Courtney barked a cough that sounded suspiciously like Lez into her hand. The whole table erupted in laughter.

  I watched as Annie shot an exasperated look at Courtney.

  “What?” Courtney laughed. “I just have a tickle in my throat.”

  I gave Annie an I told you so look and waited for her to defend me. I was expecting her to be the girl I remembered from the locker room on the first day of school. Instead, she just shook her head at Courtney and went back to her homework.

  What the . . .

  “Oh, don’t look so upset, Jessie,” Courtney snapped. “I was just kidding.”

  I shrugged my shoulders, struggling to keep my face blank. “I’m not upset,” I lied, packing up my tray and getting up to leave.

  “Jess . . .” Annie said. “Don’t go! Courtney was just joking around.”

  “I know,” I said, like it was no big deal. “I’m going to the library to study. Want to come?” My heart hammered in my chest.

  Annie looked at Courtney and then back at me. “Just study here with us. We can quiz each other.”

  “No, thanks,” I said, grabbing my tray and walking away.

  I could hear Courtney laughing at me as I left, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as Annie’s indifference. She saw, and she didn’t even care.

  Outside the cafeteria, I took a deep breath and blinked back tears before heading toward the library. I kept expecting Annie to fall into step beside me, but it didn’t happen. Annie had made a choice, and she didn’t choose me.

  I sleepwalked through the rest of the day, feeling as if I’d taken a huge step backwards. I was alone again, but it hurt so much more than it ever did last year. All I could think about was where I’d sit at lunch tomorrow. I didn’t want to go back to Courtney’s table, but I wasn’t sure where to go instead.

  I could sit at the table Annie and I shared before Courtney came along, but that seemed far too pathetic. It would look like I was waiting for Annie to come back to me, and I could just imagine Courtney’s comments. There was always the old table from last year, too. I could try to slip back into my old group and pray they’d take me back. Kevin would make a scene, but back in October, Charlie had practically begged me to join them. I thought about the day he’d found me in the library, right before my study session with Scott. He gave me that comic he drew and told me I should come meet the new girl at their table.

  As soon as I got home from school, I turned my room upside down, hunting for Charlie’s comic. I finally found it under a stack of textbooks and flopped onto my bed to read it. I figured I’d return it tomorrow at lunch as an excuse to join them.

  He’s talented, I thought as I took a good look at the cover. He’d drawn the outside of our school, with a crowd of students in front. I recognized Charlie and Kevin with the new girl, and I found Annie and me, our heads bent together as if we were sharing a secret. I felt a throb of sadness at the sight of us looking so happy together, and I fought the urge to text her a picture of the drawing. I knew she’d go wild for his artwork.

  I held the book closer to my face and found Courtney and Larissa in the center of the crowd, surrounded by a group of goggle-eyed boys. Typical. Except . . . I squinted at the page. Courtney and Larissa were wearing superhero costumes. Ridiculously over-the-top superhero costumes, replete with sequins, capes, and boob-enhancing tops. Then I noticed the name on the side of the school: Sir John A. Macdonald School for Superheroes in Training.

  The story started with Charlie and Kevin sitting in the cafeteria. Charlie had the power to turn invisible, and he was using it to check out his classmates without their noticing. Everywhere he looked, he saw people with incredible powers, like super speed, flying, and telekinesis. He slumped in his chair and moaned to Kevin about how lame his own superpower was in comparison. When he caught sight of me, though, his mood changed. My ability was empathy.

  Hardly able to believe his eyes, Charlie found himself drawn to me. “You can see me,” he marveled as he sat down at my table. “You’re the only person who’s ever been able to do that.”

  I didn’t share his enthusiasm. “I don’t belong here,” I told him. “This is all a huge mistake.”

  As far as I was concerned, empathy was a useless superpower. If anything, it made me miserable. All around me, I could feel the suffering and insecurity and worries of others.

  But, it turned out, empathy was something sorely lacking at Sir John A. Macdonald High School. Everyone was so competitive that they’d lost connection with one another. They’d all been so focused on being the hero that they’d lost sight of the fact that they were far more powerful as a team than they ever could be on their own.

  I came to the end of the comic and felt surprisingly sad that it was over. I flipped the last page, hungry for more, and found a note Charlie had penned on the back cover:

  Jess,

  Admit it . . . I was right: one good comic can change your mind.

  I see the superhero in you, and I’d love to be your sidekick.

  Charlie

  He’d written his number under his name, and I ran my fingers over the digits, amazed at how badly I suddenly wanted to call him. My brain was buzzing, and I had so many questions. I wanted to ask him how he did it. How he drew me in and made me believe. And with a comic book, no less. Not to mention the ending. How did he figure out such a perfect ending?

  But . . . I’d love to be your sidekick.

  I flashed back to the day in the hallway when Charlie interrupted my conversation with Annie to ask if I’d read this comic. What did I say? I remember lying and saying I’d read it. I think I called it interesting. And then I never talked to him again.

  Oh God.

  He thought I’d read it and dismissed it. He thought I wasn’t interested.

  My stomach churned. I couldn’t call him now. He gave me this comic book in October. That was almost three months ago. What would I say to him?

  Besides, I thought miserably, he’s with that new girl now. I pictured them sitting in the cafeteria together and felt a wave of jealousy wash over me. How could I have missed this? He’s a storyteller, like me. Or, at least, like I want to be.

  I hugged the comic to my chest and wished I could go back and do everything differently. I wasted so much time trying to impress people who hated me that I never gave a second glance to someone who actually liked me.

  Annie

  I perch on the edge of Jessie’s bed, fighting back tears. I want to ask her why she won’t try harder. Why she’s letting her insecurities about Courtney come between us. I want to ask her why she disappears every day at lunch and has stopped sitting with us entirely. I want to ask her why she messages me and calls me and begs me to come over, then sits there and pouts like I’m the worst friend in the world.

  I open my mouth to say all those things, but what comes out instead is “You know, I’ve never been able to draw you.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been trying on and off almost since the day we met, but I can’t do it.”

  Jess looks confused. “But you did draw me. I saw it. It was the first time you came over here.” She gestures at her bookcase, to where we had sat that afternoon.

  I shake my head, frustrated. “It wasn’t right. I couldn’t capture you.” This feels important somehow. “It’s like you have a shield up. Like I can’t crack through to the real you.”

  “Or maybe you just never looked hard enough.”

  I let my head fall back. Here it comes. The guilt trip.

  “I just don’t get it, Annie,” she says. “I don’t understand why you don’t miss me the way I miss you. And I really don’t understand why you’d rather hang out with Courtney and Larissa than with me.”

  “Jessie, give me a break.”

 
“What? I’m being serious. I just want to know!”

  “I didn’t choose them over you. You’re choosing avoiding them over me!”

  “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

  “It does! You’re the one who walked away. You’re so stubborn about not forgiving them for something that happened in seventh grade that you would deny yourself all the fun just to make a point.”

  “They’re horrible to me, Annie. I don’t know how you can just forgive them for that. If someone had tormented you throughout middle school, I wouldn’t betray you by going out and making friends with them.”

  “I’m not betraying you, Jess. You’re so melodramatic! Court and Larissa apologized to you and are trying to make it up to you. You just refuse to listen.”

  “Yeah, right. You heard what Courtney said to me. You see how she treats me. And you think I should be okay with it just because she’s Courtney. I’m sorry, Annie, but I don’t see this fabulous person that you claim is underneath all her bitchiness. I just see a bitch.”

  I look at her, standing there with her hands on her hips, full of self-righteous anger. She suddenly feels so far away, and it makes me sad. “You want to know the truth, Jess?” I ask softly. “I do miss you. But not this you. I miss my friend from the beginning of school. The one who knew how to let loose and have a good time. The one who was adventurous and smart and funny. We don’t laugh together anymore. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  Her lips go white. “We don’t do anything together anymore, Annie,” she says. “That’s what bothers me.”

  “How can you even say that? I’m here right now, Jessie. Right now! And all you want to do is talk about Courtney and make me feel guilty for having other friends. You make it so much work to spend time with you. I feel like I’m always walking on eggshells—like if I do or say the wrong thing, you’ll get upset. And it’s not fair that you’re making me choose between spending time with you and being friends with Courtney and Larissa. If you weren’t so stubborn, we could all be friends.”

  “They don’t want to be friends with me, Annie! And I don’t want to be friends with them. Why can’t you see that? Why are you trying so hard to force me to play nice with people who have been awful to me? I don’t want to forgive and forget. I just want to move on and make friends I can trust.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You see it, Annie. I know you do. You sit by and watch Courtney treat me like garbage and you do nothing about it. No, sorry—you make me feel guilty and like it’s my fault. I don’t like them, Annie, and I don’t like who you’re becoming when you’re around them.”

  My whole body goes cold. “What I see, Jess, is a bunch of people who are bringing you into their group and treating you like anyone else. They’re not handling you like you’re fragile or damaged goods, which seems to be what you want in some kind of fucked-up way. You need to stop playing the victim all the time and crying every time someone looks at you sideways.” I’m so furious with her that my hands are shaking. “You’re right, I don’t rush to defend you or fight your battles for you. And do you want to know why? Because I see you as a strong and capable person, Jess, not as a pathetic loser who can’t stand up for herself.”

  Her head snaps back as though I hit her. “I’m not playing the victim. I am the victim. And I can’t believe you’re blaming me for getting picked on. You’re not the person I thought you were, Annie.”

  “You know what, Jess? Neither are you.”

  I want to throttle her for being this way. I storm to the door, bumping her shoulder on the way. “You’re being a baby,” I tell her. “I hope you know that.”

  “And you’re ditching the best friend you’ll ever have. You know, this pathetic place you want to escape from was here for you when you were lonely and sad about how things were going at home. I can’t believe you’d just leave me and forget all the times I was there for you.”

  I go still, my hand on the doorknob. “I’m not forgetting those times at all. I wish you were still that same friend, but you’re not. You’ve changed, Jessie. You’re so busy keeping score of all the ways people are doing you wrong that you have no time left to be a friend to anyone.”

  I wrench open the door and walk out of her room without looking back. I’m done with feeling guilty.

  Jessie

  I was drifting in and out of sleep when the lights suddenly snapped on and my mother’s voice filled the room.

  “We need to talk.”

  I forced one eye open and groaned as the light assaulted my tired brain. “I’m napping.”

  “I can see that. It’s four thirty in the afternoon and you’ve been in bed all day. Enough of this. What’s going on?”

  “It’s nothing, Mom.” It’s everything.

  Ever since my big fight with Annie, the days have been sliding past each other. It’s like I’m floating above myself, watching some girl who looks like me screw up her life. Second semester is turning into an unholy mess, and yet I’m just drifting through the days without really caring.

  “It’s not nothing,” my mom snapped, her arms crossed over her chest. “It’s Annie, isn’t it?”

  I rolled over, hiding my face from her. “No.”

  “Jessie. You know, we’re not blind here. Annie hasn’t been over since she ran out of here weeks ago. What’s going on?”

  I considered my options. What answer would make her go away soonest?

  “We’re just having a fight. It’s not a big deal, and I can handle it myself.”

  She sat down beside me on the bed. I felt almost repulsed by her and wondered what was wrong with me. “What did you fight about? Talk to me, Jess.”

  Yeah, right.

  That was a minefield I didn’t want to navigate. There were too many areas for her to find fault with. I wasn’t ready to hear that I was wrong. Not even a little bit.

  “It was stupid. We’ll work it out.”

  “I don’t think so. I’ve spoken with Dr. Morgan, and we feel you’re showing signs of depression.”

  That woke me up fast. “What happened to you taking a step back and letting me manage myself? You have no right to talk about this stuff behind my back.”

  “I have every right, Jessica. When you stop taking care of yourself and start letting your health suffer, it’s my job as a parent to step in. Now, you’re either going to talk to me, or I’ll book you an appointment with Dr. Richards, but I will not sit back and watch you let your health suffer.”

  “This is exactly the kind of thing that makes me not want to talk to you!”

  “What kind of thing? Me caring? You talk all the time about how no one in Annie’s family cares about her. You’d think you would be appreciative of having a family that does care.”

  “You go beyond caring, Mom.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You interfere. You’ve interfered since day one. I just want to handle this on my own.”

  “You’re doing a fabulous job,” she said. “You’ve stopped eating, studying, and interacting with other people. Clearly I’m not needed here.”

  “You have no magic cure, Mom. What are you going to do, call up Annie’s parents and tell them to make her play with me? It’s complicated, Mom. It’s high school.”

  “I’m aware of high school, Jess. I went there myself, you know.”

  “Yeah, like five hundred years ago. And you were pretty and popular. And you had a boyfriend. Your life was easier than mine.”

  The fight went out of her a bit. “I’m not saying your life isn’t hard, Jess. I know it is. That’s why I want to help.”

  I stared hard at her, seething.

  “It’s incredibly painful when friendships fall apart. But I know one thing: you and Annie fit together so well. You really care about each other. Things will work out.”

  “How? How will they work out?”

  “I think it might be time for you to tell Annie about your anxiety.”

  “What? Go
d, no!”

  “I don’t know what you girls fought about, but I’m sure there are many things about you that are puzzling for Annie. She’s expecting you to react like anyone else, without understanding your situation or limitations.”

  “My limitations?” My fury was white-hot. “I’m not a freak, Mom. And there’s no reason Annie needs to know anything about my anxiety. It has nothing to do with why we fought. Telling her about that stuff wouldn’t fix anything. It would just complicate things.”

  “Just hear me out. You and Annie are like puzzle pieces. From the first time I met her, I saw how well the two of you fit together. You snapped into place and complemented each other perfectly. High school is a messy time, and your puzzle has gotten all jumbled up. But I have every faith that with a little effort, the pieces will fall back into place. For you, that effort might mean being brave enough to show Annie the real you. Annie loves you. I know that. Telling her about your anxiety will show her that you trust her, and it’ll give her the chance to understand you better.”

  Things are so simple in my mom’s world. “I’ll think about it,” I lied. I didn’t bother to tell her that the real reason our pieces don’t fit together anymore is that pieces from other puzzles have snuck their way into our box. Courtney, Larissa, Scott . . . they don’t belong in our puzzle, and it’s become impossible to sort it all out and see what belongs and what doesn’t. Annie is stubbornly holding on to all these misfit pieces, trying to force them to fit. She won’t listen to me when I tell her it’s not right.

  Annie

  My heart plummets as Mrs. Avery swings her car into my driveway. I really, really, really don’t want to do this.

  I take deep breaths as I walk down the front steps and climb into her car. This is going to be a disaster. I’m sure Jess has told her about all the things I said during our fight, and I’m so ashamed that I can’t even look Mrs. Avery in the eyes.