Page 1 of Through the Storm

CHAPTER ONE

katy

REVENGE TOUR

I finally did it.The thing my mom always said I would.

I ruined my life.

I wasn’t perfect for once. I didn’t behave like I was expected to. And now everything’s a mess.

Apparently, I channel heartbreak through rage. And rage through revenge.

My original plan was simple: a glow-up. Maybe a tiny, sparkly revenge outfit. Not a full-blown revenge hookup tour with football players from his rival team. My school’s team, Harbor Point U.

It just… happened. Powered by tequila and humiliation.

Because Ben Davis didn’t call. He didn’t even text.

Not after knowing me forever. After knowing I’ve been half in love with him for most of my life.

Not after I gave himeverything. And he treated me like any other random hookup.

So yeah, I spiraled. A little.

Okay, a lot.

I did a few shots. And a few football players. Several nights in a row.

And then the picture I posted. Me, making out with someone who was definitely not Ben, while I was wearing Ben’s high school hoodie. Which, in hindsight, was… maybe a bit much. It was not something I would have ever done. I guess heartbreak made me a little crazy.

But whatever. Life moves on, and everyone will forget about it. Right?

No.

Because what I definitely didn’t plan on were the two pink lines staring back at me. I just stand there, unable to look away from the test, for maybe ten minutes. I honestly have no idea how long it is until it slips from my fingers onto the counter.

“No.”

The word barely comes out in a whisper.

I keep waiting for the lines to disappear. For the test to admit it made a mistake. Of course, it doesn’t.

No. No. No.

This can’t be happening.

I shove the test back into the box and decide that for the rest of the semester, I’ll just pretend this isn’t happening. I have only three months left to go. I can do this. I will have it figured out by then. I hope.

I try to do the math. I google how to figure out conception dates. After reading the fifth article saying the same thing, the worst part clicks into place: I can’t know for sure.

Slowly, my legs give out and sink to the floor. Okay, deep breath, Katy. You can handle this.

Maybe I screwed up. Maybe I made every wrong decision a girl could make.

But one thing I know for sure?

I’m not going to be like my mom.