Dare Me (11 page)

The dare will be up in a few hours, and I’ll text her the password if she didn’t get it on Twitter already. The question will answer itself; my parents will come home and tell me we’re moving to some shit hole; John’s parents will come looking for answers, and Chantel won’t want anything to do with me. Why I ever agreed to all of this in the first place is beyond me. Then again, I really didn’t agree to
this
. It’s all morphed and I don’t like it.

—

My phone wakes me
and I scramble for it. Ricky: Video’s up. I stare at the screen and wait until it fades away. I get out of bed and go to my computer. It’s after 5:00 and I still don’t think my parents are home. I don’t remember them checking on me. Although, I feel like I was more dead than sleeping.

I pull up our channel and type in the password: pondscum. Apparently O. P. and Trevor are using keywords from O. P.’s site. That way if anyone types pondscum right now, in say, Google, they should hit on his site and some product to get pond scum off your water skis. Whatever.

On my screen is a shot of the ramp. I hit play and watch this morning unfold.

I have to admit, Trevor does nice work. He zooms in at all the right times, like when John was shaking his head and staring down the ramp, and then he pans back for the perspective of the jump. We look like toys on a play set. I’m watching and holding my breath without realizing it. Then John’s at the lip. He pedals and wobbles and then . . . he’s in the water, looking fine, as if nothing happened.

I watch the video again, in case for some reason I missed it. But it’s not there.

“Benny? We’re home.” Mom’s voice carries up the stairs and then down the hall. She stands in my doorway.

“Are you okay? You look exhausted.” She moves into my room, and I quickly close out the screen before she gets close enough.

“Tired. Finishing some school work.” I run a hand through my hair.

She furrows her brow. “You’re not coming down with something, are you?” She crosses to me, grabs the back of my neck, and kisses my forehead. “No fever. That’s good,” she murmurs close to my face. I feel awful. John’s lying in the hospital, all sorts of messed-up and dealing with asshole parents, while I’m here lying my ass off to my sweetheart mother.

“Yeah. Kind of beat, but I’m feeling good now.” I add some perk onto the end, because she’s obviously bouncing on something, and if that diverts her attention from me, I’m all for it.

“Good. So did you see the sign?”

I almost forgot. “Yeah, and I got your note. Bids?”

She sits on the edge of my bed and her eyes are wide. “I know. Already. Benny, you don’t know how worried we’ve been, thinking financially we might have to take the transfer. . . . But now . . .” She tears up, and I let her go. “Now we can afford to stay here if your father’s company decides to relocate him.”

I am genuinely relieved, but then think to ask, “So where are we going?”

She laughs a sound that has nothing to do with humor. More like dread. “Still haven’t figured that out. There are some nice condos over by that new development, but that wouldn’t be much of a savings. We may need to focus more on downtown.”

The “new development” is where Trevor lives, and the condos are between him and Chantel. I don’t know anyone who lives downtown, and I want nothing to do with that gross area, ever.

She grabs my hand. “I know it’s not what you want, but we’ll make it work. I promise.”

She sounds like she’s talking about my life to a T. I didn’t want what I had before, and now I’m not sure I want what I have or what’s coming. But that’s how things work, right? Damn Newton. “I know, Mom. Thanks.”

She squeezes me tight and then leaves. “I’ve got pizza if you’re hungry,” she says as she’s leaving my room.

“From where?” I ask, but I know.

“Please. The only place in town to order from, your lovely establishment.” She walks away.

I pick up my phone to text Ricky and find out what the hell’s up, but I have a text from Alexia:
Party tonight. I owe you.

I scramble online and sure enough, Danielle Thompson is throwing a rager. I stare at my phone and the options to send a text or to call. I look back at the screen and pull up our severely edited video. My life no longer resembles anything it used to. I don’t know if this is good or bad, or something that just happens senior year. But I do know one thing, I want more. And the only part that feels right at the moment is Alexia. Which, in itself, is ridiculous. But these dares may be gone, and maybe what Ricky and John and I had, so I might as well salvage what I can.

I close out the screen and text Alexia.

CHAPTER 12

T
he beer is buzzing
in my head and the party is rocking. Someone screams, “One more time!” and the chant ensues. Danielle screams and flips her giant plasma TV to display the Internet. Our latest video is waiting for the replay. She clicks the tab and the event unfolds again.

It’s surreal, standing in a room of kids, drunk and smiling, watching us on the screen when none of them know who the hell we really are. The footage rolls and the room reacts the same way as it did earlier, laughing at John’s blunder, cheering for me, and then losing their shit over Ricky’s acrobatics. When it’s over, they applaud and scream and “cheers” one another and drink.

I turn away and take a big swallow of my beer. Ricky and Trevor do the same. It sucks without John, and having them here instead doesn’t feel right. I didn’t even want to bring them, but Alexia brought it up when we texted, and since she was calling the shots, I didn’t want to seem rude. And I know I’m only pissed at how Ricky behaved. It was John, and he was hurt, and Ricky wasn’t there for him, wasn’t concerned.

Most of the room was watching our bridge jump when Alexia ushered us into Danielle’s. Heads turned, but only briefly.

“I gotta go check on things,” she said after we all got beers. “Have fun.” Then she disappeared, and I haven’t seen her since. So now I’m stuck with these two, and I need a stiffer drink.

“We need to talk.” Ricky leans closer to me, not drunk, but not steady either. Trevor bites on his cup, as if he’s nervous for what Ricky’s going to say.

“About what?”

“O. P.”

I take a deep, calming breath, not caring what either thinks. I don’t give a shit about our business partner at the moment.

“He’s not happy.”

“Why’s that?” I ask.

“The dare. It didn’t exactly go off as planned.”

“That’s an understatement. But what does he care about that?”

Ricky looks at Trevor, only for a moment, but it’s enough for me to suspect what I figured was right.

“We’re not getting paid,” Ricky says.

“What? How is that? We completed the dare.”

Ricky turns to the side, directing our conversation away from the crowd and into the wall. “Not technically.”

I skip the deep breath. “What do you mean? We just watched it.”

Ricky sighs. “Not all of us.”

I think I understand but play dumb. “Huh?”

“In the contract, it states that all three of us have to complete the dare or none of us gets paid.” I don’t remember seeing this, but I didn’t read it thoroughly and Ricky hasn’t given me my copy, so I can’t argue the point. “That’s bullshit. It’s not John’s fault.” Even as I say this I know it is. “This asshole’s going to withhold three grand because he hit the brakes?”

“It’s not three grand. Did you see the amount of hits?”

“Something like six thousand.”

“Right, but what matters is the amount we get in the first twenty-four hours. We get paid a dollar for every hit. We had fifty-five, twenty-five, then.”

Another point I don’t remember. I finish my beer and calculate in my head. “So, each of us lost eighteen hundred?”

Ricky, again, looks at Trevor.

The beer opens my mouth. “Fucking say it. You keep looking at him like you want to.”

“Easy, Ben. Take it easy.” Ricky talks to me like I’m a child, and that only makes it worse. I lower my head and step closer to him.

“Tell me.”

Ricky clears his throat. “From here on out, we’re giving Trev an equal cut.”

My head surges. I don’t know if the money is the hot button or not. It might be the fact that Ricky decided without us. It might be the fact that I don’t know if he can because I haven’t read the contract. It might be that I’m pissed at Ricky for being Ricky? This is how he rolls.

“Do what you want. You were going to anyway. It’s not as if you give a shit about John or me.”

Ricky’s face twists. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The words build, and I clench my jaw and feel tears stinging my eyes. It’s either let it out or lose it. “Think for a minute. John’s arm is busted. Ball starts in two weeks. If he loses his scholarship because of this . . .” I take a breath because I’m too far gone not to. “And my dad’s out of work. I could use that money we’re not getting, and now you’re kicking it to Trevor. And why exactly you’re doing that, I don’t know. So right now I’d like to punch you in the nuts and walk away from all of this. You asshole.”

Ricky lets out a short laugh. “I’m not surprised, Ben. You walk when things get tough. Like in eighth grade. You couldn’t sell the lie, had to throw me under the bus.”

“Really? Did you really just say that? The kid who told Principal McGee that we’d snaked that spy cam into the girls’ bathroom is standing right next to you.”

Trevor’s eyes bulge, but he only nods, doesn’t speak.

Ricky leans into me again. “But as soon as he spilled, you piled on. You and John. It was our word against his, until you cracked.”

It’s true, which makes me feel like a dick, but also adds to this ridiculous layer of
friendship
we have. Why is Ricky back? Why are John and I?

“That’s besides the point.
You
uploaded that shit.
You
thought it was funny as hell. Not
us
. So, now, this time,
if
we move forward, you explain to John what’s up.”

“If?” Ricky says.

“Yeah. Because either you stay on the level and I get a copy of the contract—which you somehow keep
forgetting
to give me—and we arrange a meeting with O. P., or I walk.”

“Didn’t you say you needed the cash? Dad out of work? And that you’re worried about John?” His voice isn’t remotely sympathetic.

“I did and I am, but, again, that’s not the point. Or did you forget your own lie? The one where you sold us on being legends?”

“That’s still the truth!”

People turn and look now, and we wait until they go back to their conversations before Ricky speaks again.

“I haven’t lied to you yet.”

“Yet.” I hope that word has the impact I want it to.

“Think whatever you want, Ben, but if you walk away, the loss is on you. Don’t go blaming me.”

That stings. Because he’s right. I can’t prove he’s lied, just that he hasn’t been forthcoming. However, Ricky’s pretty poor, and John and I are close, so there’s leverage there. Trevor’s loaded, so him earning anything is a shitty deal. But there’s nothing I can do about that. I’ll focus on what I can.

“I want a copy of the contract, and I want a meeting with O. P.”

“The contract is a no-brainer. I’m sorry I forgot to get it to you. The meeting with O. P. . . . I don’t know where he lives.”

“You said you found him through Craigslist.”

“Yeah, but there’s no guarantee he’s local. That shit gets posted all over.”

I could argue this point but Trevor steps in.

“We could do a conference call, Skype or FaceTime?”

Ricky looks at me. “Will that work?”

“I’d rather face-to-face, but it’ll work.”

“All right. Glad we got that out of the way.” Ricky looks at his empty cup. “Refills?”

“Yeah. But one more thing.” I was going to wait until later, but there’s no reason to now. “Chuck wants to advertise with us.”

“You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“No, he thinks because we go to school with
these kids
I should be able to make contact.”

“So we need to make it seem as if we know these guys, that’s all?” Ricky asks.

“I guess. I don’t know what Chuck wants, but I need to get him off my back.”

“That’s fine. Tell him you saw them here.” Ricky waves his hand around the room. “Which, by the way, we should be enjoying. Thanks to Alexia. What’s up there?”

I don’t even know how to answer, so I don’t. “Shit, sorry, one last thing.”

“You’re killing me, Benny. Like seriously, I have no pulse.” But Ricky smiles when he says this.

“Ginny wants to do this interview with us. Some shit for a school project. Of course our identities will be hidden.”

Ricky stares, open-mouthed. “Why the fuck did you tell her?”

I put up my hands. “I didn’t, I swear.
She
found out. There was nothing I could do. She would have thrown me under . . .” I don’t finish.

Ricky nods. “At least you know the feeling. We’ll do the interview. Have Trev record it. Who knows, maybe we could use it later?”

I don’t see how that’s remotely possible. It’s more likely he wants to feel like he’s got some control or shit. Whatever, so long as he isn’t freaking out. Goddamn I need a drink.

“Thanks.”

We head toward the kitchen, and Ricky puts his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, I’m sorry about your dad. I know what that’s like. All that plant shit?”

“Yeah. Sucks.”

“I hear you. And about John, too. We’ll do what we can, but let’s hold out for that scholarship.”

I’m about to ask about Trevor, but don’t get the chance.

“There you are!” Alexia’s voice sends a jolt through me, and I turn around. Jesse’s behind her. His pack of friends linger in the distance, eyeballing us, but I turn my attention to Alexia as she stumbles over and gives me a hug. “Are you having a good time?” I stay stiff in her arms. She grabs my forearm. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you two were, you know . . .” I look at Jesse and watch him watch his girlfriend hang on me. I look back at her and am astounded by how enormous and beautiful her eyes are. They’re like cartoonish orbs taking me in.