Nerve (13 page)

But that year and every one since then, I continued to feel special that she singled me out, and valued my opinion. Not that she doesn’t value her own opinion more. She always claims to be an excellent judge of character and that she knew from day one we’d be friends for life. I’ve accepted her friendship gratefully, not caring that everyone sees me as
her sidekick. She may be emotive and bossy, but she’s always been loyal. Until tonight. How could she have turned on me?

I study Ian’s perfect cheekbones. He responds by running a finger along my temple that sends a yummy tremble through my core. Who knew that such a light touch could feel so good? What a rush it would be to show up at the theater with someone who seems to be so into me. For once, I’d be the one with the prize. The image is too delicious to ignore.

I calculate. We could make it to the auditorium in twenty minutes and be out in another ten. With luck, I’d make it home by curfew. And if not, maybe Mom and Dad will have fallen asleep watching a late-night news show.

Ian smiles. “If I complete the first part of my dare, the prize is a gift card to Gotta-Hava-Java. You wouldn’t want me to miss out on that, would you?”

“I’m sure the barista would welcome you with open arms.”

“Welcome us. You’d be my date.”

A date. The future. Sounds so magic. His mention of a prize makes me realize that as soon as I’d spotted Syd’s name in my message from NERVE, I’d skipped over the link to what I’d win. Taking a breath, I open my phone and check.

My jaw plummets. “Oh wow, if I do this dare, I’ll get a shopping spree at my favorite clothing store. With a three-thousand-dollar limit.” That would buy a whole new wardrobe. Still vintage, of course, but way less frugal, and way
more flashy—no, not flashy, noticeable. And why not? I’m the girl who’s completed two live dares tonight. People will see me differently when I return to school on Monday.

He shifts closer. “There’s no downside, baby.”

God, I’d do the dare just to keep hearing him call me “baby.”

“But I’ve never confronted Sydney before. Not like this.” I wring my hands, unsure of how to continue. “Most of our arguments are no big deal, since she usually gets her way. When we get really mad at each other, she goes all reality show, crying and stomping, and I get quiet. But we always make up. And we’ve never fought over a guy.” I don’t add that there isn’t a point. Sydney snags whatever guy she wants, regardless of what anyone else thinks.

“She sounds spoiled. And whatever guy you were fighting over sounds brain-dead.”

I laugh. Would Matthew be jealous if I walked in with Ian? It would serve him right for leading me on the past few weeks. Sydney would understand my desire to teach him a lesson. And she should respect me for calling her out on going after someone I was interested in, even if this is a dramatic way of doing so. Then again, who better to appreciate drama than her? Maybe tonight will be a turning point in our friendship. One that makes things a tiny bit more equal.

With visions of patriots demanding justice, I say, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

He guns the engine. “Vee, Vee, Vee,” he sings, narrowing his eyes, “is so very…”

“Very what?”

He gazes at me, boring into my soul, it feels. “Very very. That’s what you are. Very, very, verrrrrrry.” Those
V
s. Those lips.

“You’re very very yourself.”

At the stoplight, he pulls me toward him, giving me a reminder of how very very he is. A car behind us honks when the light turns.

Quicker than I would’ve thought, we’re at the parking lot. There are at least a dozen cars, but not Tommy’s. He must have been watching and worrying about me from home. Hopefully, if he’s still watching, he’ll understand. How was I supposed to know that NERVE would throw me a dare like this? Come to think of it, what’s the appeal of this dare to the audience? It’s not like random Watchers can crash the party. Ms. Santana may not be much of a chaperone, but she’d kick strangers out in a heartbeat. Maybe NERVE has put together a whole long fairy tale about how much I like Matthew, but now I like Ian too. The audience will think they’re witnessing a love triangle. Awkward, since Ian’ll be the one videoing it, but if that’s how NERVE wants to spend their money, fine with me.

Well, maybe not so fine. Now that we’re here, I’m having second thoughts about Ian seeing Sydney. When has a guy
ever paid more attention to me than her? What if he can’t help himself?

He turns off the engine. “The rain’s eased up. We should run in before it pours again.”

No time to weigh the options. The more I think, the more likely I am to chicken out. And I’m sick of that. I bite my bottom lip so it’s plump and red, the poor girl’s makeup. Pulling our jackets over our heads, we exit the car and jog through the drizzle.

“Showtime, beautiful,” Ian says, grabbing my hand.

I force a smile and take a deep breath. And another.

Yeah, showtime.

We enter the main auditorium door and wipe our damp faces with our sleeves before heading farther inside. Dance music blares alongside yelps of laughter. As we enter the main hall, Sydney, still dressed in a corset snug enough to asphyxiate most mortals, flits around the stage with the male cast members, gay and straight, following in her wake. They dart behind a scrim that Tommy designed and I helped paint. Depending upon how the gauzy drop was lit during the play, the view from the audience shifted between an arctic meadow and the stark tableau of an interrogation chamber. Right now it’s in meadow mode, with Sydney featured as its most colorful butterfly.

I wrap my jacket around me like a cocoon and watch Ian watching the actors. Is his gaze lingering on Sydney?

When she catches my eye, she jumps down from the stage. “Veeeeeee! We’ve been rooting for you!” Despite four-inch heels, she dashes up the center aisle and almost knocks me down with a hug so tight I feel the bamboo slats in her costume.

Huh? If she was mad after my dare last night, she should be furious now. Maybe this is just a public show of support for her best friend. Which is hard to believe after the public betrayal with Matthew.

She pulls away, her eyes on Ian. He puts one arm around me and extends the other, introducing himself.

She laughs and holds up her phone. “Of course I know who you are. We all do. Did you see the grand prize rounds in Chicago? One guy just swam in fish guts.”

She motions to Jake, a guy almost as small as me, who holds up a tablet. Someone sloshes around in the video, and I swear I can smell rancid fish. As soon as the clip is over, an ad floats across the screen. It’s an image of a girl who’s also swimming in something gloppy, only it’s green and she’s gasping. A pop-up replaces her photo with one of another girl wearing pigtails and a vampire shirt, shying away from two girls in shiny hot pants. Oh my God.

I point to the screen. “I don’t believe they’re using pictures of me to promote the game.”

Sydney howls at my reaction. “Believe it. So why are you guys here? Is the game over? Did you decide not to risk
everything you’ve won on a grand prize round? They just started one in Colorado.”

Ian moves his arm lower and squeezes my waist, a move not lost on Syd. “We’re kind of in a wait-and-see mode. Your makeup looks fantastic, by the way.”

She strokes her cheek. “Yeah, Vee’s very talented.”

He presses his face momentarily to my hair. “Yes, very.”

She cocks her head as if maybe she didn’t hear him correctly.

Part of me wants to savor the moment; part of me wants to get this over with. Now. Ready or not, I open my mouth. “Um, Syd, there’s something we need to discuss.” I wish I could tell her that this is part of a dare.

Her brow furrows. “Like why you decided to keep playing NERVE? I think I understand.” She winks at Ian. What’s with her? Does she think we’ll put in a good word when she applies for the game next month?

He ignores her and pulls out his phone like he’s checking for messages. He glances at me and gives me an air kiss, never shifting his gaze to Syd for a second. I think I’m in love.

Sydney stands there with a blank look. Has a guy ever ignored her before?

“So, Syd—” I say.

From the back of the theater, a door slams.

Tommy marches through the main entrance. His eyes shoot me like lasers.

A wave of guilt threatens to swallow me. I give him a weak wave. What’s he doing here?

He raises a serious-looking camera in front of his face. It has a microphone boom attached to the front like a rhino’s horn. Oh geez, he must be our official Watcher.

I turn toward Ian, but he stares at his phone with a stunned expression. Then he swallows and says, “Just tell her what you need to. Fast.”

I clear my throat and say to Syd, “I agreed to play in the live rounds because I was mad at you.”

She puts a hand to her chest. “Me?”

I can’t help feeling a little sorry for her. My behavior and Ian’s must be causing her to question reality as she knows it.

Tommy stops next to us so that Sydney and I are in frame, beneath the microphone boom. A red light on his camera pulsates like an angry heartbeat.

Sydney squints. “What are you doing, Tommy?”

He raises a finger to his lips.

I grab Syd’s arm. “Let’s go back to a dressing room.”

She resists. “What’s this about? Why were you mad?” Her voice has risen a few decibels.

Does she really not know? “I’ll tell you when we have some privacy.”

Tommy grunts. “If you wanted privacy, your boyfriend wouldn’t be broadcasting this.”

Sydney’s forehead tightens. She grabs at Ian’s phone.
“You’re filming us too? Is this is a dare? You’re doing this for another dare?”

Ian pockets his phone, but instead of answering Syd, he glares at everyone in the room, as if daring them to stop me.

I try to finish this awful mission. “Look, Syd. I just need to say something really quick, then we’ll be gone.” I tell myself this isn’t an invasion of her privacy. Not that she’s ever cared much about privacy. Her ThisIsMe page is filled with bikini shots.

I say in a low voice, “I was mad because you came on to someone that you knew I was interested in.”

“Louder,” Tommy says. “Your audience can’t hear you.”

Sydney crosses her arms in front of her chest, which only gives her more cleavage. Now that she knows she’s on stage, there’s no telling where things will go, except that she’ll end up looking good for her audience. Wait a minute, it’s my audience.

The faster I get through the dare, the more likely I am to survive. Or at least not faint. I’m already seeing spots. “You know I liked one of your costars.” I glance at Ian, hoping he noticed I used the past tense, but he doesn’t seem to notice me. His face is filled with pain.

I continue anyway. “But you threw yourself at him during the last act tonight. The script said kiss, not maul.”

Syd’s eyes go wide. “Are you talking about Matthew?” Her well-trained voice carries across the theater.

“What about me?” Matthew says, jumping down from the stage. When he joins us, I notice three different shades of lipstick on his cheeks and the aroma of at least that many perfumes. The guy’s a freakin’ petri dish.

I put my hand up toward him. “Nothing about you, Matthew.”

Someone has turned off the music. Ms. Santana? Where is she, anyway? And where are Liv and Eulie? They’d stick up for me, I’m sure. Everyone else stares at us, and a few point their phones. Even Jake, the one kid who sometimes helps me with costume design, holds up his tablet to film the scene. I should be used to this kind of attention tonight, but the camera glares burn like hot pokers on my skin.

I turn toward the crowd. “Okay, back to partying, you guys. This’ll all be posted soon enough.”

No one moves.

I rub my palms against each other. “Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say, Sydney. I’m leaving now. Oh, and you over-emoted during the interrogation scene.” That should satisfy the dare. And now that I’ve done it, I’m not super-mad at her anymore. Who cares about Matthew?

She grabs my arm. “I’ll show you emoting. You just accused me of betraying you. I didn’t think you were still seriously into Matthew, not after all my warnings.” Her cheeks have gone scarlet, which would look hideous on anyone else, but highlights her amazing bone structure. “You’ve accused me of some
dumb-ass stuff before, but I would never stab you in the back. Didn’t you notice how hard Matthew grabbed me on stage? I couldn’t get away. See this bruise?” She points to her arm.

Matthew wouldn’t let her go? His grasp was awfully tight. And just because he might be the one who gave her flowers doesn’t mean she reciprocated. Oh boy, have I messed up. I back away. “Uh, sorry. Look, we’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay?”

She lunges forward. “No, we should talk now. That’s what the cameras are for, after all.” Her hands are on her hips and she towers a good seven inches over me, thanks to those stupid stilettos I chose for her costume.

The theater has gone silent. When I glance around, faces and phones observe me with the glare of a jury. Hell. I’ve screwed up big-time. Sydney stands there, statuesque, radiant, indignant. As usual, she prevails.

“I’m waiting for an explanation, Vee.” She taps her foot.

Everyone else seems to have assumed the same stance. I swear they’re tapping their feet too. The theater thrums with accusation. Once again, I’m the wannabe, only now my second-rate status is there for thousands to witness, no longer hidden behind the curtain.

Time seems to stop. How can I reverse it to the delicious moments in Ian’s car, before he witnessed this utter humiliation? Too bad Tommy’s ticked off at me too. If anyone could invent a time machine, it would be him.

As a last resort, I shake my right hand at my side to get Sydney’s attention. When she looks at it, I use sign language to say,
Sorry. Really. Let me go, okay
?

She watches my hand, her eyes softening. Will she give me a break? She’s got to understand why I thought what I thought, why I did what I did. Who knows me better? And always wants to protect me?

I hold my breath and sign,
Please
.