OOM: Ending
The way Hannah sees it, she has three problems. One is at least possibly an easy fix -- when she gets to school tomorrow, she'll take Brennan's advice and talk to her physics teacher about retaking the test or extra credit or something.
The other two are slightly more complicated. Or significantly more complicated, really. Hannah still has no idea what to do about Sam Keith, or what she wants to do about Sam Keith, or what she should want to do about Sam Keith. All she really knows is that she's probably not going to solve that problem until she solves the third one.
The third problem is the reason she's awake late into the night, staring at nothing, thinking very hard. It's not that she doesn't know what she needs to do, it's that she doesn't know how. And it's that, honestly, she really doesn't want to.
But it's time, and she knows it.
So at 2:46 a.m., PDT, Hannah gets up out of bed, sits down at her desk, and writes a letter.
At 2:58 a.m., she sets down the pen, picks up the letter, reads it over twice, and (with a sigh) nods.
At 3:04 a.m., she folds it in thirds, seals it in an envelope, and writes "Henry" across the front.
At 3:06 a.m., she tears the letter and the envelope both, in half and in half and in half again, until it looks for all the world like confetti, which she will cast behind her, one piece at a time, when she goes running in the morning.
And at 3:17 a.m., Hannah gets back into bed, pulls the covers up to her chin, and, much to her surprise, promptly falls asleep.