Bitter End Read Free Page A

whole story. My mom wasn’t just gone, and my dad wasn’t just quiet. I told them about the photos and about Mom going
     crazy and dying on her way to the mountains and about my plan to go where she was going. And just like that, the trip planning
     officially began.
    I needed to know that she was going toward something, not away from us. Not away from me. She loved me. I needed to know that
     she loved me.
    Whenever Aunt Jules or Bethany’s mom or someone else tried to tell me that my mom was an angel watching down on me from heaven,
     I never could envision it.
    To me, my mom was in the mountains, waiting for me to arrive.

CHAPTER TWO
    “Really, if you’re not gonna be some stick-up-the-butt English teacher, who gives a crap about direct objects, anyway?” Zack
     said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. His toothpick—Zack’s new signature look was a toothpick—rolled from
     one edge of his mouth to the other.
    I picked up his pencil and held it out to him. “You should, that’s who; because if you don’t pass this class, you don’t graduate.”
     It was only the second week of our senior year, and already Zack’s teachers were worried about his ability to stop goofing
     off long enough to earn the credits he needed to graduate.
    Zack shrugged. “And your point is?”
    I gave him a look. “I thought the point was pretty self-explanatory.” He rolled his eyes at me. The toothpick, which had made
     its way to the middle of his lips, was bumping upand down as if he was flicking the other end of it with his tongue. I sighed and put down the pencil. “Fine. Whatever. Just
     don’t come crying to me when your mom takes away the crapmobile again. And don’t expect me to give you a ride anywhere, either.”
    Zack raised an eyebrow. “So that’s how it is now? Been covering your ass since forever. Saved you more times than I can count.
     And you just leave me hanging out to dry. Hurts, my friend. Hurts.”
    I grinned. “Yeah, pretty much. I’m doing you a favor. Someday you’ll thank me.”
    “Now you sound like my mom. What’s next? You telling me this’ll hurt you more than it’ll hurt me?”
    “Trust me, helping you can be pretty painful sometimes.” I cleared my throat and began writing in Zack’s notebook, which was
     spread out on the desk between us. “Okay, seriously. We’ve gotta get to work. Here, look at this sentence. What’s the direct
     object?”
    Zack uncrossed his arms. He leaned forward over the paper and studied the sentence I’d written. “God, you’re a pain in the
     ass,” he muttered around his toothpick. “Good thing you put out. That?”
    I smacked his arm. “Close, but no. And you wish I put out, you perv. Okay, remember, to find the direct object, you…”
    “Alex?” Mrs. Moody, the tutor lab sponsor, called from the doorway, interrupting us. She waved me over.
    “I’ll be right back,” I said. “Why don’t you write fiverandom sentences, and when I get back we’ll find the direct objects together.”
    “Can I use any words I want?” he said, arching his eyebrows at me deviously.
    “Yes, such as ‘fail,’ ‘forever a senior,’ ‘degenerate,’ ‘grounded for life’? Go ahead.”
    He made a face at me and picked up his pencil. I pushed my chair out and headed to the door, where Mrs. Moody was still standing,
     half-in, half-out, talking to Amanda, one of the other tutors. Mrs. Moody was pointing over her shoulder with her thumb at
     Zack, and Amanda was nodding. I waited, half-wondering if I’d done something wrong. Maybe she’d heard Zack and me bantering
     and was firing me, which would totally suck because, without the tutoring lab seventh period, I’d probably get stuck in ceramics
     or some other art class, in which I would, without a doubt, be a complete failure. Plus, I liked tutoring. Especially tutoring
     Zack. Zack was a great stress-reliever, pervy jokes included.
    Mrs. Moody finished talking with the other tutor and put