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Back Parachutes Save as PDF
Chapters (93)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. One
  4. Two
  5. Three
  6. Four
  7. Five
  8. Six
  9. Seven
  10. Eight
  11. Nine
  12. Ten
  13. Eleven
  14. Twelve
  15. Thirteen
  16. Fourteen
  17. Fifteen
  18. Sixteen
  19. Seventeen
  20. Eighteen
  21. Nineteen
  22. Twenty
  23. Twenty-One
  24. Twenty-Two
  25. Twenty-Three
  26. Twenty-Four
  27. Twenty-Five
  28. Twenty-Six
  29. Twenty-Seven
  30. Twenty-Eight
  31. Twenty-Nine
  32. Thirty
  33. Thirty-One
  34. Thirty-Two
  35. Thirty-Three
  36. Thirty-Four
  37. Thirty-Five
  38. Thirty-Six
  39. Thirty-Seven
  40. Thirty-Eight
  41. Thirty-Nine
  42. Forty
  43. Forty-One
  44. Forty-Two
  45. Forty-Three
  46. Forty-Four
  47. Forty-Five
  48. Forty-Six
  49. Forty-Seven
  50. Forty-Eight
  51. Forty-Nine
  52. Fifty
  53. Fifty-One
  54. Fifty-Two
  55. Fifty-Three
  56. Fifty-Four
  57. Fifty-Five
  58. Fifty-Six
  59. Fifty-Seven
  60. Fifty-Eight
  61. Fifty-Nine
  62. Sixty
  63. Sixty-One
  64. Sixty-Two
  65. Sixty-Three
  66. Sixty-Four
  67. Sixty-Five
  68. Sixty-Six
  69. Sixty-Seven
  70. Sixty-Eight
  71. Sixty-Nine
  72. Seventy
  73. Seventy-One
  74. Seventy-Two
  75. Seventy-Three
  76. Seventy-Four
  77. Seventy-Five
  78. Seventy-Six
  79. Seventy-Seven
  80. Seventy-Eight
  81. Seventy-Nine
  82. Eighty
  83. Eighty-One
  84. Eighty-Two
  85. Eighty-Three
  86. Eighty-Four
  87. Eighty-Five
  88. Author’s Note
  89. Acknowledgments
  90. About the Author
  91. Books by Kelly Yang
  92. Back Ad
  93. About the Publisher

I bunch up my sheets. I’m so tired of her technicallys. Technically, you are a bitch. Tears pool on my pillowcase. “Fuck off, Dani,” I yell, adding under my breath, “You’ll never know what you did to me.”

I wait until I hear Dani’s footsteps leave, then pull down my cover so I can breathe again. When she and her mom are both out of the house, I pick up my phone to call Jess. My phone beeps and dings when I turn it back on, alerting me that I have a million messages and voice mails.

I swipe past my voice mails to go to my iMessages. There are twenty-five from Jay.

Are you ok? 10:30 p.m. Friday

Call me. 11:52 p.m. Friday

I’m worried about you. 9:05 a.m. Saturday

Can we talk? 12:30 p.m. Sunday

I just want to know that you’re ok. 4:32 p.m. Monday

I’m sorry if I hurt you. 6:39 p.m. Tuesday

CLAIRE! I’M FREAKING OUT! TALK TO ME!!! 10:25 p.m. Tuesday

You have to know how I was feeling. 6:38 a.m. Today

The last message makes me want to throw my phone at the wall.

I tap Reply and write, DON’T EVER CALL ME AGAIN.

Then delete it without sending it, because the thought of engaging with him again, even on text, makes me ill.

Instead, I text Jess to come over, telling her it’s an emergency. As I wait, I pick up the dresses and tops and bags he got me and put them in a box. I write FREE on top of the box and drag it outside. Shielding my eyes from the sun with my hands, I dump the box on the curb. The sun feels so foreign to me, its warmth almost insulting as I cut across the grass in my bare feet.

Jess’s Porsche pulls up. She turns off the car and gets out, carrying coffee and scones from Starbucks. I burst into tears at the sight of her.

“Claire, babe, what’s wrong?” she asks, ushering me inside.

She sets the coffee and scones down on the coffee table. She tries to hand me a pastry, but I shake my head. I can’t keep anything down. I’m an incoherent mess as I try to form the words. In between the hiccups and the sobs, she makes out what happened, and the whites of her eyes grow large.

“He raped you?” she asks, spilling her coffee. She sets it down. “How? When?”

Jess holds me, crying, as I tell her. I show her all the text messages he’s sent me. The first thing she does when she takes my phone in her hands is she blocks him. And just to make sure he really gets the message, she takes her own phone and sends him a text—YOU ARE NEVER TO TEXT, CALL, OR COMMUNICATE WITH CLAIRE AGAIN.