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

Pick up the phone!

Jon’s party is lame-ass.

Scott & Liss are idiots. Come chill with me.

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Courtney. I creep over to the window and peer outside. She’s leaning against a tree, holding up a six-pack of Heineken and a duffle bag full of God knows what.

I inch open the window. “You’re crazy,” I whisper-yell. “How am I going to get down there?”

She pulls out her phone and sends another text.

You could use the front door . . . but that’s so boring. Sneak out that window, you rebel.

I look back at my comfortable bed and reconsider my plan to lie around all night feeling sorry for myself.

Screw that.

I stuff a bunch of clothes under my covers so it looks like I’m asleep and then turn out my lights. I grab a thick sweater and hoist a leg over the windowsill. It’s a short jump into the tree next to my house, so I gather my courage and leap, earning a whoop of surprise from Courtney.

“You’re badass!” she yelps, maneuvering under the tree to help me slide down. “I thought you’d just shimmy down the drainpipe.”

I turn around and look where she’s pointing. “Huh. I’ve never snuck out before,” I admit with a smile.

“I’m honored to be your first time,” she deadpans, handing me a beer and hoisting her bag over her shoulder. “Follow me.”

“Dare I ask where we’re going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

I follow Courtney out to the street, pulling the sleeve of my sweater down over my beer to conceal it. Courtney takes no such precautions. I watch with wonder as she struts right through the groups of parents and trick-or-treaters, drinking openly from her can of beer.

“You know that’s a three-hundred-dollar ticket,” I say, gesturing at her open drink.

“Don’t be such a goody-goody,” Courtney teases. “It’s part of my Halloween costume. I’m being a rebellious teenager, doncha know?”

I laugh and feel my shoulders relaxing. Courtney is like no one I’ve ever met before. She does what she wants, when she wants, with no explaining herself or apologizing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say when it becomes obvious where we’re headed. “You didn’t get enough of this place all day?”

“This is different. You’re gonna love this,” she says, skirting around the back of our school to where a fire escape leads up to the roof.

I shake my head as Courtney scales the ladder and disappears from view. This girl is going to get me arrested.

By the time I heave myself over the ledge and onto the roof, Courtney is wrestling two camping chairs from a stack stashed in a corner. “You come prepared,” I joke.

“A bunch of us hang out here sometimes,” she explains, nodding toward the edge of the roof. “Check it out. The neighborhood looks totally different from up here.”

I peer over the side and feel dizzy. Courtney’s right. The neighborhood seems bigger somehow. Less claustrophobic.

She pops open our chairs and digs two blankets out of her duffle bag. We wrap ourselves up and then sit, looking out over the streets of the town.

“I’ve lived here most of my life,” Court says, raising her beer in a sweeping arc over the streets below. “And I’ve never, not even for one day, felt like I belong here.”

I raise an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, not in an ‘I’m an outcast’ way. More like in an ‘I was born for bigger things than suburbia’ way.”

I shrug. “I can see that, I guess. I’m not a big fan myself.”

“See, that’s how I knew we’d be friends. You don’t belong in this shitty town any more than I do. The only difference is, you’ve actually gotten to live in the city, and I’ve been stuck here forever.”

“Your mom really loves it here that much?”

Courtney snorts. “She can’t stand it. I begged her to move after my dad left. I figured we could go anywhere, you know? Make a brand-new start somewhere different. But she wouldn’t leave. It’s pathetic, but I think she’s still waiting for my dad to come back. She’s afraid to leave in case he changes his mind and can’t find us.”

I sneak a sideways look at her as she cracks open another beer and hands it to me. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “That sucks.”

She shrugs and grabs another drink for herself. “So explain the Halloween thing to me, city girl. I mean, I know why I turned down the invite to Jon’s booty-call party, but I’m not sure why you did.”

I shrug and take a sip of the beer. “Bad memories.”

“We’ve got all night,” she says, clinking her can against mine.

I look over at Courtney and think about her mom waiting in a house she hates, hoping that her deadbeat ex-husband will come back for her. If anyone understands heartache and loss, it’s got to be Court.

“My mom died on Halloween night six years ago,” I tell her. God, I remember it so clearly. It was two weeks after picture day and the Friday before a spelling test. Mom had driven out to some small-town gallery that wanted to display her paintings. She normally worked from home, and I remember being mad that they’d chosen Halloween, of all days, for their meeting.

“It was pissing down rain that night, and the streets were slippery.” I blink back tears as I tell her how Dad and I waited for Mom to pull into the driveway. Even though she hadn’t said anything, we knew she’d have take-out. McDonald’s, maybe. Or Wendy’s. Dad and I were both starving, but she’d trained us well, and we knew not to snack before she made it home.

I was sitting at the front window, watching the way my breath made little circles of fog against the glass, when Dad came through the kitchen and spotted me. “Hey, monkey,” he said. “Don’t worry. She’ll be home soon. Traffic is probably a nightmare.”

His voice was light, but I saw him look down the street and frown as he came up beside me.