How It Ends

by Catherine Lo

  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.

  Jessie

  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.

  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 sel
fish, 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.

  Jessie

  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.”

  “What?” I asked, my eyes bugging out of my head. “You mean right now?”

  “Right now.”

  “But what will I say to him? What if he hates me?”

  “Just tell him what you told me. He’ll be relieved.”

  “You think?”

  “Come on!”

  I followed her over to my old table, my heart pounding with every step.

  “Hey, boys,” Jody called out as we approached. “Look who I found.”

  Charlie looked up and met my eyes, and for a split second I saw a flicker of something that looked like hope. Then his eyes dulled, and he nodded at me casually. “Hey, Jessie.”

  “Jess and I were just talking about comic books,” Jody sang, pulling out the chair beside Charlie and shoving me into it.

  “Yeah?” he asked cautiously as I stumbled into the seat.

  “Yeah. I . . . I finally got a chance to read the one you gave me.”

  His brow furrowed. “But you said . . .”

  “I know. I hadn’t looked at it yet.”

  “Then why . . . ”

  “I was—” I groped for words, looking to Jody for support. She nodded at me encouragingly. “Trying to impress you?”

  He barked out a laugh that warmed my insides. “Impress me, huh? Interesting strategy.”

  I blushed and looked down at the table. It seemed to be going okay. At least he hadn’t gotten up and stormed off.

  “So,” he said slowly. “What did you think?” The hopeful look was back, and my heart started to beat alarmingly fast.

  “That you were right,” I said shyly. “One good comic can change everything.”

  Charlie ducked his head and then flashed me a smile that made my heart leap.

  “This is some painfully awkward shit,” Kevin broke in, earning a smack from Jody.

  “Shut up, Kev,” she said affectionately. “This is romantic.”

  Annie

  I blink in surprise as Madge shifts her car into park and yanks the key from the ignition. We can’t possibly be here already.

  I look out the window at the squat gray building that looks absolutely nothing like I thought it would, and then let my head fall back against the seat.

  Madge sighs, and I can feel her eyes burning their disapproval into me. I don’t want to get out of the car, but I don’t want to stay in here, either. The seat belt is too tight and Madge is sitting too close and I feel like this giant SUV is crumpling in on itself, trapping me inside. I suddenly realize that I’ve never sat in the front seat of Madge’s car before. We’ve never done anything together that’s just the two of us. Our first stepmother-stepdaughter bonding day, and it’s a trip to the abortion clinic.

  Why isn’t she getting out of the car? I shift in my seat and reach for the door handle, desperate to escape.

  “Wait a minute, Anne,” Madge says. I freeze, my fingers hovering inches from the handle. There’s a little flutter of something in my chest. Is she having second thoughts?

  My eyes flick to her face, and I watch as her gaze travels past me to the building outside. She looks as conflicted and unhappy as I am. I feel a smile creeping up from somewhere in my body, but before it makes it to my lips, she says, “I hope today is a lesson to you. I don’t want to ever have to bring you back here again.” Then she climbs out of the car and marches to the sidewalk, where she waits for me with arms crossed.

  I want to refuse to get out of the car. I want to hole myself up in the back and scream that I won’t go through with this. I want to take out my cell phone and call my dad and confess everything and beg him to make Madge stop. But I don’t. I see the look on her face and I imagine the way Dad would look at me. I think about the kids at school who used to be my friends and how they see me as a dirty slut because I had sex with Scott. And I imagine nine months of walking the halls with a growing belly.

  And the weak part of me wins. That sniveling, pathetic, scared part of me that always wins. I’m not cut out to be a mother, I think as I follow Madge into the building. A mother wouldn’t be this cowardly.

  I hang back while Madge checks in with the receptionist. She can do all the talking, I decide. Let her bear the weight of this decision. I’ll get through this by just following along and doing as I’m told.

  But
then there’s a social worker leading me to an office and telling Madge to sit outside in the waiting room, and all my plans go up in smoke.

  “I’m Janet,” she tells me, gesturing at a chair. “Please, have a seat.”

  She perches a pair of half-moon glasses on her nose before flipping through a clipboard full of notes. “Your mother faxed over your background health information for us, but I’d like you to take a look at the forms and verify that everything is correct.”

  I want to tell her that Madge isn’t my mother, but I can’t seem to find my voice. I hold out a shaking hand for the clipboard and pretend to read the forms while Janet watches.

  “Part of my job today is to make sure you understand all the options available to you, and that you’re confident in your choice to have an abortion.”

  The word just rolls off her tongue, and I look up in surprise. I’ve heard abortion so many times lately, but it’s always been whispered or hissed or shouted. I’ve never heard it said like a regular word before.

  I pass her back the clipboard and nod, suddenly grateful that Madge isn’t here. Janet’s eyes crinkle when she smiles at me, and the lines around them look like kindness. I flex my fingers and imagine drawing her face.

  I have to fight to focus on the words she’s saying. She talks about adoption and giving birth and all the things I’ve already thought about and debated for an eternity. I want to press fast-forward on this speech, because I’m so done thinking about it.

  “Annie?”

  I sit up straight and nod as if I’ve been listening attentively.

  “I’m not telling you anything new here, am I?”

  “No,” I admit. “I’ve thought about all those things. A lot.”

  She nods and adds a few notations to the form in front of her. “Let me ask you a more difficult question, then,” she says. “Is this your decision or your mother’s?”

  A chunk of ice cracks off my heart, and I see two paths ahead of me. On one, I open up to Janet and tell her everything—all about Madge and my father . . . and even my mother. She’d help me; I can see that. I could tell her about Scott and the girls at school. About how scared I am and how I’m not sure that I’m making the right decision. She’d smile at me and refuse to let me go through with this abortion. Then she’d bring in Madge and lay into her about ruining young girls’ lives and taking away their choices.