How It Ends by Catherine Lo (classic books for 13 year olds .TXT) 📕

“You were never annoying.”

“Kevin told me I was annoying. Daily.”

Charlie’s face broke into a lopsided grin. “Kevin finds everyone annoying. I thought you were great.”

His smile was contagious, and I laughed, remembering how exasperated Kevin used to get.

“Anyway,” Charlie said, clearing his throat, “I just wanted to give you this.” He slipped a thin booklet out of his binder and held it up.

“A comic book?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t read those, remember?”

“Oh, I remember your stubbornness, Ms. Snobby Reader. But do you remember how I said one good comic would change your mind about that? Besides, this isn’t just any old comic. I wrote this one.”

“Seriously?” I asked, taking it from him. “It looks so professional.”

I flipped it open to take a look, but his hand shot out and settled over mine. “Don’t read it now. I mean . . . save it for later. When you have time. We can, uh, talk about it later.”

I nodded and slipped the book into my bag, rattled by the feeling of his hand and the intensity of his voice. “You look different,” I blurted.

He shrugged. “I grew my hair out a bit,” he admitted.

“And got some new clothes,” I said, like a complete moron. “I mean . . . not that there was anything wrong with your old clothes . . .”

Charlie gave a low chuckle that made me blush. “You’re as smooth as ever, Jess,” he teased. “But you do have a point.” He leaned in closer and looked around before whispering, “Don’t tell anyone, but my mom picked out my clothes last year. I decided it was about time for that to stop.”

“Much better,” I choked out, trying not to notice the way his T-shirt stretched across muscles that had definitely not been there last year. What the heck was wrong with me?

“I have to admit that I did have help. Have you met Jody yet?”

I shook my head as Scott walked through the library doors. I felt like my heart was going to implode.

“She’s new this year, and she decided that Kev and I needed fashion interventions. You should come hang out with us again—I think you’d really like her.”

I opened my mouth to reply just as Scott stepped between us. “Hey, Jess,” he said, completely ignoring Charlie. “You ready?”

I nodded and shot an apologetic look at Charlie, who was blinking at us in confusion. No worries, I said to him in my head. I can hardly believe it myself.

Scott put a hand on the small of my back and propelled me toward the tables in the far corner of the library. “Let’s sit back here where we can talk without Adamson kicking us out.”

I walked ahead of Scott, consumed by the warmth of his hand. When we reached the back desks, he pulled it away, leaving my whole body feeling cold and abandoned. I perched on the chair next to him and fumbled with the zipper on my bag. “Where should we start?”

“Can we go back to the first unit and go over that test? I totally bombed it.”

I smiled up at him and got lost in his eyes for a second. Mental note: Do not make direct eye contact. I pulled out my textbook and started talking, and everything else fell away. No lie, I was on fire. I started explaining about the differences between plant and animal cells, and it was like I was channeling Bill Nye the Science Guy. I just couldn’t stop talking, and it was all good.

When I finally came up for air, there were just minutes left in the period. We’d been working steadily for more than forty-five minutes, and we both looked a little dazed.

“Thank you so much, Jess,” he said in a voice so sincere it almost made me cry. “You’re really, really smart.”

And the best part? He wants to do it again!

The entire day felt so completely surreal that I probably shouldn’t have been as shocked as I was to find Larissa Riley waiting for me at my locker at the end of the day. It was like falling down the rabbit hole.

I’ve known Larissa since second grade. We bonded in Saturday morning figure-skating class, where we endured the harsh criticism of Coach Grant and consoled each other over hot chocolate after class. We had sleepovers every weekend, sat beside each other at school, and spent every recess wandering the playground, making plans for the future. Larissa had dreams of becoming a famous actress, and I planned to be a writer.

When Courtney moved to town in sixth grade, we had long, serious discussions about welcoming her into our group. We sat at my kitchen table with a huge piece of chart paper and listed the pros and cons. Courtney was magnetic, with long blond hair and a razor-sharp sense of humor. She had quickly become the class clown and prom queen all rolled into one. Those were all pros. We’d been a team of two for a very long time, though, and that was a powerful con. Eventually we decided to invite Courtney to a sleepover, and we officially became a group of three.

I’ve often wondered about that day at the kitchen table. If we’d decided not to befriend Courtney, would my life have turned out differently? Would Larissa and Courtney still have become best friends, leaving me behind? And would Larissa still have turned her back on me and laughed along with the others when Courtney declared me an outcast?

“Hi, Jess!” The present and past folded over each other dizzyingly as Larissa tucked a strand of jet-black hair behind her ear and beamed at me, looking disturbingly like her second-grade self.

“Hi . . .” I reached out for my lock, only to realize a second too late that she was standing right in front of it. I let my hand drop and looked at a spot just over her left shoulder. No matter how much time passes, I still feel that same knife of betrayal in my stomach every