Dare You To

Because the boy is smarter than Einstein and most of the kids in this school are dumber than dirt, Logan takes senior courses. Next year, they won’t have any classes advanced enough for him, so odds are they’ll shove him in a dark corner of the library and pretend he doesn’t exist.

I glance around the hallway, trying to spot Beth. “So, about that continuing dare from Friday.”

“You mean the bet you lost on Friday.” Chris enters English and claims our usual seats by the window. Lacy stays in the hallway to do her girl-talk thing.

“No, the bet I’m going to win.”

Chris flashes a disbelieving grin. “Logan, do you hear the smack he’s talking?”

Logan drops into his seat and slouches. “You lost, Ryan. Badly.”

“Badly?” I ask.

“The most fun I’ve had in weeks,” Chris says. “In fact, let’s relive the moment. Hi, I’m Ryan, I want your phone number.” He holds out his hand to Logan.

“Let me think,” Logan says. “She had this elegant way of talking. Oh yeah, I believe her response was ‘Fuck you.’”

“Her name is Beth.”

“Getting her name wasn’t the dare.” Determined to keep Mrs. Rowe from taking into her possession every hat he owns like last year, Chris shoves his cap into his back pocket. “You lost. Be a man. Suck it up. Or let us continue to make fun of you. Either way works.”

“I like making fun of him,” says Logan.

I lower my voice and lean into the aisle so only Logan and Chris can hear. I have a small window of opportunity and the longer people stay in the dark regarding her uncle, the better my odds of scoring her number. Scott is a god at this school, which automatically makes her a demigod. “Her real name is Elisabeth Risk and she’s Scott Risk’s niece.”

“Beth.” Books slam on my desk and the three of us flinch and look up. Black hair, nose ring, and a formfitting white shirt unbuttoned recklessly close to areas where guys stare. Well, at least where I stare. Good God almighty, the girl’s hot.

“I’m going to say this slowly and use little words in the hope you can follow along. If you call me Elisabeth again, I’ll make sure you can never father children. Tell anyone else whose niece I am and you’ll be sucking air out of a tube in your throat.”

Chris laughs and it’s the deep, throaty kind that tells me the shit we’re entering is bad. “It’s nice to meet you. Ryan just told us how badly he wanted to call you, didn’t you, Ry?”

Ding-ding, Chris rang the bell for round two and he’s in direct violation of game play by interfering. Well played, because I would have done the same damn thing. “I tried looking for you this morning, but the secretary said you were in a meeting with Mr. Dwyer.”

Her blue eyes pierce me, and an eyebrow slowly arches toward her hairline. The silence stretching between us becomes excruciating. Chris shifts in his seat and Logan slouches lower by an inch. I will her to leave, but I need her presence to win the dare. I focus on keeping my face relaxed. If I even breathe, Skater Girl will know she has the upper hand.

“Uh-huh,” she finally responds. “I’m sure you did. Suck-ups do that type of thing. Here’s the deal. I avoid you, you avoid me, and when my uncle asks if you helped me today I’ll giggle like one of those pathetic girls standing in the hallway and gush about how poor, defenseless me couldn’t make it in the big, mean school without big, strong Ryan to help me out.”

“You can giggle?” asks Logan.

She glares at him. He shrugs. “You don’t strike me as the giggling type—just saying.”

Damn, Logan entered game play too, which means he’ll want to place money on the dare. Time to salvage. “This is Chris and Logan. They play baseball with me. Chris has a girlfriend who I’m sure you’ll love and if you want, you can sit with us today during lunch.”

“Dear God, you really are brain damaged.”

The bell rings and Skater Girl goes to the opposite side of the room and holes up in the corner. That went well. My friends both wear smiles that make me want to kick their asses.

“Twenty she curses you out by lunch,” says Chris.

“Thirty she kills you by lunch,” adds Logan.

“I’m getting her number.” The two of them laugh, and the muscles in my biceps tighten at the thought of another loss. The paper in my notebook crinkles in my fist. “You don’t think I’ve got game?”

“Not enough game for that,” says Logan.

“I’ll prove you wrong.” Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse Beth. With her head down and her long black hair hiding her face, she doodles in a notebook with a pen in her left hand. Huh—a southpaw.

Chris shakes his head. “Sorry, dawg. Beth attending Bullitt High is a rule-changing event. See, phone numbers are for those we will never see again. You have months to work her. You want a win, then the stakes are raised—you have to ask her out and she has to accept.”

“And the date has to be at a public venue for no less than an hour,” adds Logan. “You know, to keep it legit.”

I shouldn’t do it. If I mess this up, I could tick off Scott Risk; but then again, if I work this right, I could have Scott Risk eating out of the palm of my hand. He all but begged me to become friends with the spawn of Satan over there. Plus, if I walk away from this opportunity, it means I lost and I don’t lose.

“Fine,” I say. “Dare accepted.”

Game on, Skater Girl. Game on.

BETH

I NEED A CIGARETTE and a smoker who will trust me. Unfortunately, I haven’t come across either of those in my four hours of living the teen version of Deliverance. From a distance, while the juniors and seniors head to lunch, I follow two guys with long hair and sagging jeans. I hope I can convince one of them to give me a drag.

They round a corner and I give them a sec. If I approach before they light up, they’ll try to act cool like they aren’t doing anything. Then there will be nothing I can say to convince them I won’t snitch.

Hell, I wouldn’t believe me. The new girl in a white button-down shirt.

I’ve given them long enough. I turn the corner, prepared to tell them to chill, but the words catch in my mouth. They aren’t there.

It’s a short hallway with double doors leading out. I hurry to the window and watch as the two guys duck and weave through the parking lot. My head smacks the door. Damn. I never thought they’d skip. First day. That’s hard-core.

At the sound of a knock, my heart kicks out of my chest and with one glance out the window it melts. It’s him. My body sags with relief. It’s really him. I press the door open and the moment the warm summer sun caresses my face, Isaiah gathers me into his arms. Normally, I wouldn’t do this—touch him so aware. Today, I don’t mind. In fact, I bury myself in him.

“It’s okay.” Isaiah kisses my hair and his hand cradles the back of my head, keeping me close. He kissed me. This embrace should bother me and I should push him away. We don’t connect like this. Not sober. Today, his touch entices me to hold him tighter.

“How did you know?” I mumble against the material of his shirt.

“Figured you’d come out for a smoke at some point. This is the only place anyone has been doing it.”

His heart has a strong, steady rhythm. There were times, in my search for weightlessness, that I pushed too hard. Drank too much. Inhaled more than I should. Became physical with guys who were no good for me. I would go beyond weightlessness as a balloon on a string that had been snapped—left alone in a frightening abyss. With one touch, Isaiah could ground me. Keep me from floating away with his arms as my anchor. His steady beating heart the reminder he would never let go.

With reluctance, I put space between us. “How did you know I’d be at this school?”

“I’ll explain it to you later. Let’s go before we get caught.” He holds his hand out to me.

“Where?” I play along, knowing what my answer will be. I want the fantasy—if only for a second.

“Wherever you want. You once said that you wanted to see the ocean. Let’s go to the ocean, Beth. We can live there.”

The ocean. The scene comes alive in my mind. Me in a pair of old faded jeans and a tank top. My hair blowing wildly in the breeze. Isaiah with his hair buzzed short and shirt off, his tattoos frightening the tourists as they stroll by. I’ll sit barefoot on the warm sand and watch the crashing waves while he watches me. Isaiah always keeps his eye on me.

I wrap my arms around myself and clutch the hem of my shirt to prevent myself from grasping him. “I can’t.”

He keeps his arm extended, but the weight of my words causes it to waver. “Why not?”

“Because if I run away, if I break Scott’s rules, he’ll send my mom to jail.”

Isaiah’s hand clenches into a fist and his arm drops to his side. “Fuck him.”

“My mom!”

“Fuck her too. In fact, why were you even with her Friday night? You promised me you’d stay away from her. She hurts you.”

“No, it was her boyfriend. Mom would never hurt me.”

“She let you take the fall for her bullshit and she sat back while he used you as a fucking piñata. Your mom is a nightmare.”

A car door slams in the parking lot, and we slink to opposite corners by the door.

“We need to talk, Beth.”

I agree. We do. I nod toward the pinewoods. “Let’s go over there.”

Isaiah pokes his head out and scans the area. He waves his hand for me to go. We don’t run. We walk in absolute silence. Once we’re deep enough in, I turn, waiting for the question that has to be tearing him apart.

“You lied to me.” Isaiah shoves his hands into his jeans pocket and stares at the brown pine needles on the ground. “You told me you never knew your dad.”

Okay. Not a question, but an accusation. One I deserve. “I know.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to talk about my dad.”

He keeps looking at those damn needles. A few years ago, I told Isaiah the same lie I gave everyone else regarding my father. Isaiah was so moved that he told me something he’d never told anyone else: that his mother had no idea who his father was. The lie I told Isaiah bonded him to me for life. By the time I figured out what cemented our relationship, that he believed we both had huge question marks on the paternal side, it was too late to tell him the truth.

“You know how people are.” I hate the desperation in my voice. “They love gossip and if there’s a story, they’ll dig, and I never wanted to think about the bastard again. When I told you I never knew who my father was, I had no idea that was your reality. I didn’t know that was the story that would make us friends.”

His eyes shut at the word friends and his jaw jumps as if I said something to hurt him. But we are friends. He’s my best friend. My only friend.

“Isaiah …” I have to give him something. Something that will let him know what he means to me. “What happened with my dad …” It hurts to breathe. “When I was in third grade …” Say it already!

Isaiah’s gray eyes meet mine. The kindness in them fades as they turn a little wild. “Is your dad around?” In the predatory movement of a panther, he takes several steps toward me. “Are you in danger?”

I shake my head. “No. He’s gone. Uncle Scott and Dad hated each other. Scott didn’t even know Dad left.”

“Your uncle?”

“He’s a dick, but he’d never lay a hand on me. I swear.”

He blinks and the wildness fades, but his muscles still ripple with anger. “I trusted you.” His three simple words gut me.

“I know.” I can give him honesty now. “I wish I could go with you.”

“Then do it.”

“She’s my mom. I expected you to understand.” It’s a low blow. I stay silent, unmoving, waiting for him to swallow his demons.

“I get it,” he says in a hard voice, “but it doesn’t mean I agree.”

Good. He’s forgiven me. Guilt still eats at me, but at least my stomach muscles relax while the guilt feasts.

“Nice shirt,” he says, and I smile at his playful tone.

“Fuck you.”

“There’s my girl. I was wondering if they sucked out your personality in first period.”

“You’re not far off.” Time is running short. I’ve lost so much already. I can’t lose him. “What do we do?”

“What are your uncle’s terms?”

“No running away and no more seeing you or Noah.” Scott said he wanted me to completely forget my old life. That the only way I’d have a fresh start was to make a clean break and if I wouldn’t willingly amputate the past, then he’d do it for me.

Isaiah grimaces. “And?”

“No ditching school. No being disrespectful to his wife or teachers or people.”

“You’re screwed.”

“Fuck you again.”

“Love you too, Sunshine.”

I ignore him. “Good grades. No smoking. No drugs. No drinking. And … no contact with Mom.”

“Hmm. I agree with the last one. Can you make it happen this time?”

I glare at him. He flips me off. God, he’s aggravating. “No more cursing. Keep curfew.”

His head pops up. “He’s letting you out?”

“Probably with a GPS stitched under my forehead. I have to clear every second of every outing through him. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you’re a bright girl who could manipulate the devil for a passage out of hell. You get out of that house and I’ll come get you. Any day. Any time. And I’ll have you safely home by curfew.”

Hope fills me, yet it’s not enough. I need more than Isaiah. I need something else. I fiddle with the ends of my shirttail. “Will you take me to see my mom?”

He sighs. “No. She’s no good for you.”

“He’ll kill her.”

“Let him. She made her choices.”

I stumble back as if he punched me. “How can you say that?”

The anger returns to his eyes. “How? A few months ago, she let you bleed in front of her. How could she go back to that bastard? How could she let you take the fall for her? Don’t play the sympathy card on me. No one fucks with you. Do you understand me?”

I nod to placate him, but I’ll find another way. Isaiah’s right. I can play Scott, keep Isaiah, and find a way to take care of Mom.

He pulls something out of his back pocket and tosses it to me. I slide open a shiny new gray cell phone. “We saw Scott trash your cell so I bought a new one for you and put you on my plan.”

I quirk up a smile. “You got a plan?”

He shrugs. “Noah and I got a plan and we put you on it. Cheaper that way.”

“How …” Echo inspired. “Grown-up.”

“Yeah. Noah’s been doing a lot of that.”

“How did you know? That I’d be here? In Groveton? At school?”

Isaiah focuses on the trees. “Echo. At the police station, she sat close enough to your uncle and your mom to overhear what was going down. Then Echo talked Shirley into giving us the rest of the information. Scott told Shirley his plans.”

“Great,” I mumble. “I’m in debt to psycho bitch.” The moment I say it, I feel a twinge of remorse. She’s not entirely crazy, but the truth is our relationship is strained. She’s sweet and she’s nice and she makes Noah happy, but she’s brought change … too much change … and how can I like that?

He shifts from one side to another. That’s not good. “What else, Isaiah?”

“Echo sold a painting.”

I raise my eyebrows. “So?” Echo’s been selling her paintings since last spring.

He reaches into his back pocket again and produces a wad of cash. Holy Mother of God, I’m going to start painting. “It was one of her favorites. Something she painted for her brother before he died. Noah was ticked when he found out.” He holds out the money. “She did it for you.”

Pissed. I’m beyond pissed. “I don’t want her charity.” She didn’t do it for me. She did it for Noah and Isaiah, but she mainly did it so I’d have to owe her and she knows that pride is one of the few things I rightfully own.

Isaiah closes the distance between us and shoves the bills in my back pocket before I have a chance to step away. “Take it. I want to know you have cash in case you need to bail quickly. It’s my debt to pay.”

The wad of cash feels heavy in my back pocket. Even though I’m determined to see this year out, I also know that life sucks. It’s best to be prepared.

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. “I gotta go.”

As I walk past him, Isaiah wraps a hand around my arm. “One more thing.” His eyes darken into shadows. “Call me. Anytime. I swear to you, I’ll answer.”

“I know.” It takes a second to work up the courage to say it, but he’s my best friend and worth the words. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” Isaiah releases me, and as I walk back to school my fingers trace the area where my skin still burns from his touch. He’s my friend … my only friend.

I pull on the handle of the same door I’d snuck out of and my heart sinks as the door stays shut. No. I broke the cardinal rule of ditching: always make sure you can sneak back in. I wiggle the handle. Nothing. I wiggle the other door’s handle. Same result. The dread sparks deep in my stomach and becomes a flash fire of panic in a heartbeat. I can’t get back in, which means I’ll be busted when I don’t show for next period. When Scott finds out, he’ll burst a blood vessel.

With both hands, I grab the handle again. “Come on!” I yank. The door gives. A hand flies out, snatches my arm, and drags me into the building.

I glance up at my rescuer and my insides become liquid when I see the most beautiful light brown eyes staring down at me. Ruining the moment, their owner speaks. “I’m not sure this is what your uncle meant by showing you around.”

“Damn, my life sucks,” I mutter.

It’s Ryan. I really hate this town.

RYAN

SKATER GIRL IS ON THE losing end of this moment. She snaps her arm out of my hand and glares at me with those unblinking blue eyes. “I don’t want your help.”

Winning feels great. Awesome. Drives me higher than anything else in the world. The twisting and pressure that I so often feel—gone. Winning leaves my muscles loose, makes me lift my head higher, and damn if it doesn’t bring on a smile. “You may not want it, but you need it.”

The second bell rings and Beth slams into my arm as she stalks past. Twenty bucks she thinks she’s late for class. “It’s only second bell.”

She hesitates and her spine goes rigid. “How many are there?”

“After lunch?” I casually walk up to her. This is too much fun. “Three. One to release lunch. A two-minute warning bell. Then the tardy bell.”

She releases a slow stream of air from her perfectly shaped lips, and relief relaxes her cheeks. This girl is sexy, but she’s also a handful. If I hadn’t accepted the dare, I’d toss her into avoid-like-the-plague territory. “What’s your next class?”

“Go to hell.” Beth rushes down the hallway and I pursue her at a leisurely pace.

Lockers lurch open and clang shut. Chatter fills the hallway. People stop and stare as Beth moves. Moves—that’s exactly what the girl does. She holds her head high and owns the middle of the hallway. A few kids have transferred to this school since my freshman year, but they spent their first couple of weeks trying to blend into the paint. Not Beth. Her hips have this easy sway that catches the eye of every guy, including me.

Beth checks out the numbers over the doors, no doubt searching for her fifth-period room. I pick up the pace and fall in step with her as she pulls a badly folded schedule out of her back pocket. Her thumb skims the list until it finds its target: Health/Physical Education.

The odds of winning just increased in my favor. That’s my next class too. “I can show you where it is.”

“Are you stalking me? If so, you’ll get your ass kicked.”

“By who? The guy you made out with in the tree line?” I have a hard time believing that a man as great as Scott Risk would allow his niece to date Tattoo Guy, but maybe that’s why he switched her schools. You gotta love a man who takes care of family. “Sorry to tell you, but I can hold my own.”

Beth wears a scowl that could kill on sight. “Threaten Isaiah again and I’ll kick your ass.”

I chuckle at the thought of the tiny, black-haired threat throwing swings at me. Punches from her would feel like a bunny biting a lion. By the way she pinches her lips together, I can tell my laughter pisses her off. Time to end this bull. “I’m just trying to be helpful.”

“Helpful? You mean you’re trying to help yourself. You’re a walking hard-on for my uncle.”

A muscle near my eye ticks. On rare occasions, bunnies can develop rabies, and Scott did warn me she was rough around the edges. He failed to mention that razor blades are her softest layer. My mouth snaps open to ask what the hell is wrong with her when Lacy sidles between us. She shoots me a warning glare. “I got this.”

“Come on, dawg.” Chris waggles his eyebrows and I realize he sent in Lacy to disturb us, thinking he interrupted me making a play. “Let’s go to class.”

“Yeah.” Class. I want to win the dare, but that won’t happen if I lose my temper. I follow Chris, willing to do anything to get away from Beth.

BETH

THE MOMENT RYAN TURNS his back, I sag against a purple locker. The acrid smell of fresh paint fills my nose. Watch—the damn locker is newly painted and I’ll have purple on my ass.

A hallway full of strange teenagers gawk at me like I’m an animal caged at the zoo. I swallow when two girls giggle as they pass. Both crane their necks to get a better glimpse of the new school freak.

People judge. They’re judging me now.

“Your hair used to be blond,” says Lacy.

What is the deal with the people in this town and my hair? I barely recognize the girl I once claimed as a friend. We sized each other up in English, trying to figure out if the other was really who we thought she was. Lacy has the same chestnut-brown hair as when we were kids. Just as long, but not as stringy. It’s thick now. She nods at Ryan’s friend Chris, indicating that he should follow Ryan into the classroom and he does.

“You used to hang out with cool people,” I say.

The right corner of her lips tilts up. “I used to hang with you.”

“That’s what I just said.”

The bell rings and a few remaining stragglers race to class. Lucky me, I share another class with Ryan. I push off the wall, check for paint, and feel off-balance when Lacy follows.

The cliques split off as fast as cockroaches when a light shines. Ryan and a couple other guys relax at a table near the back as if they’re God’s gift to women. Their expensive jeans and T-shirts that sport their favorite moronic teams scream total jock. I hand my enrollment sheet to a teacher deep in conversation with two more jocks. They discuss baseball, football, basketball. Blah, blah, blah. It must be a male thing to talk about playing with balls.

Lacy plops down at an empty table and kicks out a chair for me to join her. “Ryan says you go by Beth.”

I fall into the chair and glance over at Ryan. He quickly averts his eyes. My blood tingles—was he really staring at me? Stop it. The tingling fades. Of course he was. You’re the freak, remember? “What else did Ryan tell you?”

“Everything. Meeting you Friday night. Yesterday with Scott.”

Fuck. “So the whole damn school knows.”

“No,” she says thoughtfully. Lacy looks me over and I can tell she’s searching for that pathetic girl from a long time ago. “He only told me, Chris, and Logan. The one with dark hair sitting next to Ryan is my boyfriend, Chris.”

“My apologies.”

“He’s worth it.” She pauses. “Most of the time.”

For four classes, people have ignored me. I helped the situation by sitting in the back of each room and glaring at anyone who looked at me for longer than a second. Lacy drums her fingers against the table. Two thin black ponytail holders wrap her wrist. She wears low-rider jeans and a green retro T-shirt imprinted with a faded white four-leaf clover.