Dare Me (29 page)

“I’m not doing anything about them.”

Dad looks at me sideways. “What do you mean? Do you think it’s too late, because it certainly isn’t too late. I can contact the school and we can work it out, chalk it up to the stress of all you’ve been through.”

“But that would be a lie.” I cut him off and his look lets me know that’s the last time I’ll do that tonight. “That’s not why my grades have tanked.” My heart’s racing because as much as I’m being honest with him, I don’t even think I’ve been this honest with myself.

“So why? Tell me.”

I look into the fire and try to get the words straight. But I’m tired and don’t know if I mean what I say, but it’s too late to figure it out. Perfection has never been my thing, anyway.

“I’ve been hanging out with Ricky again.”

“Jesus, Ben, You’re throwing your life away for him?”

“No, it’s not like that. Please listen.”

Dad rubs his hands together. “Shoot.”

And it builds inside, all that I need to say, and I’m ready to let it go. “I’m sick of who I am, who I’m supposed to be. I’m not Ginny, with my life all mapped out. I’m not you, either. I don’t want college just because I may end up with a shitty job.”

“What do you want? To hang out with Ricky and get arrested? Because I’m sure that’s where you’re headed.”

I put my hand on his arm. “Dad, I know your life sucks so bad that you want
something
to work out. That’s how I’ve been, needing everything in place and worrying until I’m sick when it’s not.”

He looks at me and I can’t tell if it’s anger or pity I see, but he doesn’t cut me off.

“These past couple of months, I let that go, and I’m better for it.”

“Really, because your grades show the exact opposite.”

“Do you honestly think I’m talking about grades here, Dad?”

He works his jaw and looks away. “No, I understand your point, but someday you’ll be in my shoes, you’ll know what it’s like to have a family depend on you.”

“You’re right. But now I’m in my shoes, and I’m telling you that if you let me figure this shit out, let me be whoever I am, I won’t
ever
be in your shoes.”

Dad winces. “Wow, Ben, that hurt.”

I hang my head. “I know, and I’m sorry, but it’s true. We all know you’ve always done as you’re told, for us. I love that about you. But I’m not so sure that works anymore.”

“What? Being honest and decent?”

“No, Dad, compromising too much of yourself.”

“It’s easy for you to say. You’ve never had to compromise who you are.”

I swallow. “Yes, I have. And in a way that’s fine, but to the point where I don’t know who the hell I am, it’s not.”

“How does anyone know who they are at seventeen?”

It’s a great question. “How do we ever know who we’re supposed to be at any point unless we test ourselves and see? I have a feeling you’ll be different when all the dust from this settles.”

He shoots me a wistful, son-of-a-bitch, look. “How’d you get this thoughtful?”

I’d love to tell him the truth, but that’s not an option. “I’ve been taking your advice. Trying to see that next turn before I get there.”

He stares at his feet and then nods. “So these grades? College?”

“We’ll see what’s what. I can always get into community.”

He stills for a long moment. “I hear you. I don’t know if I agree, but I do hear you.” He claps his hand on my shoulder. “You are your own man, Benjamin. I’m proud of that. But don’t think for one second that we’re not here for you.”

“I know.”

“And trust me, I’ll have to talk to your mother about this. And Ginny. It won’t be pretty.” He extends his hand. “Deal?”

I take it. “Deal.”

Dad holds up the envelope, cocks his eyebrow toward it, and chucks it in the fire. We watch it burn and it’s nice to know he’s on my side.

I say good night and head upstairs. Ginny’s standing by her door. “No shit, huh?”

I point toward the stairs.

“Yeah, I was listening. It’s what I do.”

I shake my head. “And?”

“You’re taking the easy way out, but maybe that’s what you need to do?”

“What? How? I told him the truth.”

“No, you didn’t. You gave him some bullshit line about finding yourself. If you were so interested in that, you’d be doing everything you could to get out of here and do just that.”

“What, the only place you can
find yourself
is at college? Is that what you’re doing? Is being a parrot for some professor really who
you
are?”

She knots her forehead and looks as if she’s going to punch me in the face. I feel like shit for upsetting her, but as I’m about to say her name, she unleashes.

“
I am not a fucking parrot!
When I finish this paper you’ll read it and you’ll see yourself for what you really are: a scared boy who’s afraid to grow up. Go on, do your dare tomorrow, believe that you’re a big man for it and then come back home and realize that’s all you have, a little game of playing pretend. You thought you could save the house. Ha! Nice job with that! You think that running away from school is the answer. How’s it going to feel when you’re delivering pizzas to all your friends while they’re home from break?” She steps closer to me and her face is crimson. “Do me a favor, grow up. I dare you.”

She slams the door and I stand before it for I don’t know how long. Her words stack up against the arguments in my head, and I know I’ve lost.

I feel cold through and through and it has nothing to do with the temperature in the house. I thought I had it figured out, facing up to who I am, where I’m going, what I want. And Dad let me off easy because he’s worn out. I used that to my advantage. What does that say about me?

I don’t know if I want to know the answer, but I’m sure I’ll find out. Tomorrow it looks like all of Newton’s Laws apply.

CHAPTER 30

I
straighten my tie
as the limo is beeping outside. I grab my phone, pull on my suit coat, and head downstairs. Mom grabs me around the shoulders. “Don’t you look handsome. One picture with me before you go.” She plants me in the center of the fireplace and puts her arm around me. “Ginny, grab the camera. It’s on the table.”

Ginny slides out from beneath her schoolwork, and when she grabs the camera her expression is as blank as stone. We haven’t spoken since last night. “Say cheese,” she says and Mom squeezes me. The camera flashes, and in an instant I’m out the door, pulling my black overcoat around me.

Ricky, Trevor, and John are already inside, and now’s our time to finalize our plan.

—

We pull up
amidst a swarm of limos and cars, climb out, and head toward the gym. McNeil is with the other teachers and chaperones, administering breathalyzer tests. We file into the line.

“Hey, Ben?”

I turn and Chantel bounds over to me. She’s looking for a hug, so I give it, but having her in my arms only reminds me of Alexia, and I’m embarrassed in a dozen ways.

We all pass the breathalyzer test and enter the dance together.

A disco ball spins and the bleachers have been covered. The DJ is playing a decent mix, and the darkness is welcoming. I case the room, looking for the exits that I’ve never cared about before.

Chantel slips her hand into mine.

I look at this and then her. “Can we talk?”

Ricky shoots me a look. “I’ll be quick,” I say and pull Chantel backstage.

She’s looking at me with an expression so similar to Alexia’s it’s disarming. I don’t want to do this, but with all we’re about to, I have no choice.

“I know about your Uncle Paul.”

She looks confused. “What do you mean?”

“His plan, how he set us up, how you’re involved.” I lean in. “I know everything.”

Chantel pushes me away. “Ben, what the hell are you talking about? You’re scaring me.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” But even as I say it, just like at her house on New Year’s, I know she’s being honest.

“I swear, Ben. I don’t.” She’s tearing up. “If you don’t want to be with me, that’s fine, just say it. You’ve been so distant lately, but I know you love Alexia. I understand. You were friends first and all, have some chemistry or whatever, but don’t do this to me. Don’t make up some lie. Tell me the truth.” And now she’s crying and I’m baffled. Unless . . .

“Sit, please.” I help Chantel move to a step. She looks up at me and I wish I had a tissue or a time machine.

“Ben, what’s going on?”

I sit next to her and sigh so loud I’m surprised by it. “I’m going to tell you something, and based on how you respond, I’ll be able to answer that question.”

She’s still confused but nods. “Okay.”

I clear my throat and breathe deep. I was not prepared for this. “Ricky, John, Trevor, and I are the Daredevil Crew.”

Her eyes widen. She begins to laugh.

“I swear on my life, it’s the truth.”

“What?
You?
And Ricky . . . and . . .” Either her mind’s blown or she’s an amazing actress.

I put up a hand. “You probably have a thousand questions, but we don’t have time.”

“Why?”

I close my eyes. “We’re inside the next dare.”

She screams and I have to put a hand over her mouth. I shush her and she shakes her head. I release her and she stares wide-eyed. “Ben, tell me this is a joke.”

“Not even close.”

Chantel looks at the ground. “Okay, give me a minute.”

As much as I don’t have the time, I give it to her. It is truly the least I can do.

“So, if that’s the case, if what you said is true, why were you asking about my uncle?”

“It’s a long story that, again, I’ll tell you, but not now.”

She nods, but her look is not blank. There’s humming consideration behind her eyes. She may not be certain about us, but possibly she’s thinking through the potential of her uncle’s involvement. Maybe he’s done other shit like this in the past? “Okay. So what now?”

“I need to keep you out of this.”

“Because of Paul?”

I hesitate. “Yes.”

Her face sharpens. “Shit! I guess I’m not surprised. He asks about school every time I see him. He usually doesn’t care, but not lately.” She stills for a moment. “I’m sorry this happened, Ben, whatever has. I really do like you. Maybe after all this is over?”

This is more painful than I thought it would be. And my inability to answer says it all. Chantel nods and her eyes glaze over.

I lean down and I give her a deep kiss. “Good-bye. And really, thank you. I promise to still explain. But don’t be surprised if your uncle stops asking you about school.” I smile to try to lessen the blow, but that’s impossible. Too much and not enough have been revealed.

Chantel stares as I step back, her eyes watering. “Ben, I meant what I said about Alexia. I understand.”

I don’t know if that matters because Alexia seems perpetually lost in her dance with Jesse Holmes, but it’s nice to know that her friend believes something exists between us. “Thanks. Do me a favor, check on her. She’s going to be lonely tonight.”

Chantel tilts her head. “That makes two of us.” She blows me a kiss. “Be safe.”

I turn and head for the guys, my mind a scrambled mess. Ricky’s waiting. “You good? Because we’ve got to get set up.”

“Yeah, talked with Chantel.”

“How’d that go? She yell at you for calling her uncle a perv?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“What?” John asks.

“Seriously, no clue.”

We all stare for a moment, silent.

“Fuck, I guess we’ll figure that out later.” Ricky shrugs.

I nod and we head down the darkened hall lit only by the red exit signs, and turn right, placing us behind the gym, near the music rooms. Ricky stops and we all stand under the seeping red light.

“The mob will hit at exactly nine,” Ricky says. “The DJ’s been paid to play the song then, and that should trigger it.”

“How does everyone know?” John asks.

“Didn’t you see it on Twitter?” Trevor answers.

John shakes his head.

“All the rating of songs? The one that keeps getting a ten, that’s it.”

The song runs through my head. It’s the latest meme, and everyone knows the moves. We’re going to create one hell of a mess.

“What if this doesn’t work? What if McNeil cuts the song after the first beat? The moves are pretty dirty. And we’re inside, not out. How the hell are we going to get away?”

My voice bounces off the walls and then everything grows silent.

Ricky steps to me. “Ben, we’re going to be fine. This is the last one we need to do this way. From here on out, we decide.”

He sounds so much like he did in August, I chuckle. “Like it was supposed to be from the start?”

“We can’t go back, but we can start again.”

There’s some brilliance in this and I slap Ricky’s back. “Exactly.”

Ricky claps his hands. “Once the mob hits, we move. Ben’s right, they’ll be doing everything they can to cut the music, hit the lights, and shut the floor down. That’s when we lock them in.”

Ricky lets this idea hang in the air. I don’t know if it’s because he’s trying to get comfortable with it or because of how insane it sounds saying it out loud. “Inside that room are keys and fifteen cans of spray glue. One for each door. If you turn the bolt and fill the door’s keyhole with glue, in fifteen seconds it hardens and freezes it shut.”

“And then the dare is really on?” I ask.

“Yeah. Let’s see if O. P. got everything.” Ricky opens the door.

In neat stacks on the floor are helmets, vests, gloves, and ropes. I’ve seen these before. We all have. At the local rodeo.

“Holy shit,” John says.

“Yup. That’s how it’ll feel getting on the bull,” Ricky tries to control his voice, but something’s making it waver. He clears his throat. “We lock the dance in, and then the trucks roll up and dump the dirt in the foyer. The pen will then roll up with the bull already saddled and we go for our eight seconds.”

Ricky finishes speaking with the emphasis of a balloon deflating. Trev looks at me and I shrug.

“The vests all have cameras, so we’ll use that footage instead of the handheld.” Trev stops abruptly and turns to Ricky, who is sitting on the ground. “Are you all right?”