Nerve (14 page)

Her head snaps up. “You owe me an apology. Now.”

I just apologized in sign language. Does she want to publicly humiliate me? Of course she does. Payback. How did things end up so backward? A hotness fills my chest. “I have to leave.”

Her eyes fix on mine. “Again? After you’ve betrayed me and provided your expert critique on my acting?” She shakes her head. “You should’ve cleared things up right after the play. Off camera. You didn’t even stay long enough to say hi to your parents.”

My breath catches. “My parents?”

She tsk-tsks. “Yeah. They were incredibly proud. Until they found out that you left without telling any of us where you were off to. Nice job, Vee.”

I can imagine my parents’ faces. It had taken a lot for them to let me out of their sight tonight. And I was eager to show them they had nothing to worry about. How could I let them down? And how could Syd bring them into it? This is the
worst dare. If I hadn’t signed up for NERVE, I would’ve been here for my parents, shown them that everything truly was back to normal. But I’ve blown it all for a phone and a new pair of shoes. Tears of frustration and rage begin to spill down my cheeks.

Ian steps forward. “You assholes happy now?” Without warning, he springs toward Jake and grabs his tablet. “Turn this thing off before I pound you.”

I reach for Ian’s arm. “Jake’s okay.”

Ian shrugs me away and breathes into Jake’s face. “Get out of here, runt.”

Jake scurries backward, looking like he’ll burst into tears. He stumbles into chairs on his way to join the rest of the cast on stage.

Ian grabs my hand. “C’mon.”

I don’t want to join him when he’s acting like this. But staying here, where everyone’s eyeing me like a criminal, seems even worse.

As we march past Tommy, he puts down his camera. Deep smudges have formed under his eyes. “Another fine performance.”

I glare at him. “I hope they’re rewarding you well for your little film production, Tommy.”

He grunts as he fiddles with a cord. “I got what I wanted.”

Something prompts me to pause and say, “Look, for the record, when I spoke with you, I honestly thought I was done
with the game, but they offered me this one, and it was too juicy to resist.”

His face bunches up. “If this is what you call juicy, you aren’t the girl I thought you were.”

I’m not the girl I thought I was either. I don’t know what I am. Except for the person following Ian out of the theater with her head hanging.

Sydney rushes up to us when we’ve reached the lobby. Has she had a change of heart?

But she breathlessly announces, “Even though I’m supremely pissed at you, I don’t think you should go with him. Quit the game now. That hooker dare was seriously dangerous. And look how twisted this dare is. You really want to leave with this jerk, after the way he treated Jake?”

She glares at Ian, who turns away, looking totally uncomfortable. All the rage he’d shown moments ago has evaporated. Is he some kind of Jekyll and Hyde?

I say, “I just want to go home.”

She speaks to Ian. “Could you give us a minute? Without beating anyone up?”

He exhales loudly and then heads outside.

She shakes her head. “I know he’s hot, but seriously, Vee, do I have to explain why you shouldn’t go with him?”

A tiredness overwhelms me. “What do you think I am? Some brainless bimbo who can’t look out for herself?”

She stabs the air with a perfectly manicured finger. “I’m
telling you this as your friend, even though you haven’t acted like one in the past few minutes. That guy is bad news.”

I sigh. “How do you know?”

She wrinkles her nose. “You saw how he just threatened Jake. And even before that, there was something too, too, uh, perfect about him.”

A tenseness takes hold of my neck. “You mean too perfect for me?”

“That’s not what I mean at all.” But it is, I can see it in her expression.

“Good night, Syd.” I run outside to think. Maybe I should call a taxi.

Ian’s huddled under the awning, which isn’t doing much against the wind and rain. His expression is sad, not angry, but I still don’t want to get into a car with him.

I keep my distance and call out, “What the hell was that in there?”

He slaps the wall. “My dare. Those assholes wanted me to act like something I despise. Sorry.”

Aw, crap, of course. The game wouldn’t let either of us off easy. I go over and nudge him toward the car. As we trot toward it, Sydney opens the door to shout something behind us that gets swallowed by the breeze. Once we’re in the car, Ian turns on the engine and the heat.

His jaw is still tense. “Think that Jake kid’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, it’s not like you actually hit him.”

“But I humiliated him. And I scared him. Believe me, sometimes getting hit is way better than that.”

“Yeah. That dare sucked. My friends all hate me now.”

He takes my hand. “Maybe one small good thing is that you stood your ground with Sydney. And you were pretty cute with your fists clenched.”

“Ugh. I wish there was some way to go to the NERVE site and delete everything.” I check my phone. It’s ten to midnight. Even if we race to the bowling alley for my car, I’ll never make it home in time. Well, being grounded again can’t exactly hurt my social life. I’ve messed up something fierce.

“We should go,” I say.

He nods, looking as defeated as I feel. But before he can pull out of the parking space, our phones chime with soft harps and tinkling bells. I don’t have the energy to answer mine. This game has ruined my life and now it wants to soothe my feelings by sounding like twinkly music from heaven? As soon as I’m up to it, I’ll text NERVE with a big “I quit” message. For now, I bury my head in my hands. Any minute, a big ugly cry will take over my face like a tsunami, leaving pools of mascara in its wake.

But the car doesn’t move. And after a minute, Ian whistles. “You aren’t going to believe this.”

“Just take me home, please.” Hoping to prevent a meltdown, at least until I get home, I force myself to think about a time when I didn’t completely suck—like when my design for a reusable prom dress won a silver ribbon in the Fashion High contest. Sydney beamed with pride that day and made me promise to design her wedding dress when the time came. However, this line of thinking only reminds me that even in my element, I’m second place—never, ever the star. And that Syd’s been the loyal one, not me. Now Ian’s seen me for what I am: a nothing-special wannabe who orbits in Sydney’s mega-wattage. Not that she or anyone else will want to be my friend after tonight.

Ian leans in so closely, I feel his breath on my ear. Those perfect lips whisper, “Seriously, check this out.”

I uncover my eyes to find his phone in front of me, playing
a montage of the dares we’ve endured tonight, along with a banner that says: LOOK WHO WE WANT FOR THE GRAND PRIZE DARES!

Ian’s eyes are bright. “They’re in Seattle. If I complete them, I’ll win my own car and a huge credit for gas, enough to go anywhere.”

“Where do you want to visit so bad?”

He swallows. “It’s about the ability to leave. The freedom.”

“What do they want you to do for the car? Bungee jump without a cord?”

He laughs. “That’s my girl.”

His girl? And how can he find anything about me amusing? “I’m serious. The dares must be impossible.”

He shrugs. “We’ll find out soon enough. Check your phone and see what your grand prize would be.”

“Who cares?”

He smiles slowly. “You do.”

I close my eyes. He’s right. Despite my newfound hatred for the game, I’m curious. All night, NERVE has dangled the things I want most. What do they think will entice me after the disaster of a dare with Sydney? A fake passport along with foreign language CDs and matching currency?

“I’ll check what they’re offering if you start driving to the bowling alley. I’m already going to be late.”

He drives while I check my phone. When I read the message, all my blood rushes downward.

My voice is faint. “Oh my God. They can’t be serious.”

“You know they can. You saw the video of that winner who got to fly with the Blue Angels.”

I swallow. There’s no trace of the lump in my throat that was there a minute ago, because my despair has been obliterated by shock. “A full ride to fashion school.”

“Sweet.”

Another text comes in. My voice trembles as I read it aloud:

 


• G
  O TO
  C
  LUB
  P
  OPPY AND ENTER THE
  VIP
  SUITE BY
  12:30. (M
  AP TO FOLLOW
  .)
  

 


• P
  ARTICIPATE IN A FIVE-MINUTE INTERVIEW
  .
  

 


• R
  EMAIN IN THE
  VIP
  SUITE FOR THREE HOURS AND COMPLETE THE GRAND PRIZE DARES THAT’LL BE GIVEN TO YOU THERE
  .
  

Ian and I stare at each other. Outside, the rain has turned to drizzle, leaving jewels of moonlight on the side windows. Maybe the worst of the storm is behind us.

I shake my head. “I think that’s a private dance club. At least they aren’t suggesting we go to an abandoned slaughterhouse in the boonies.”

He grins. “You sound like you’re contemplating it. The grand prize round, not a slaughterhouse.”

“I’d catch hell from my parents.”

He laughs. “You’ve faced an angry mob of virgins, pretended to be a hooker, escaped from a policeman, and pissed off your best friend. Now you’re worried about violating curfew?”

“My mom’s scarier than any of those guys.”

“What’s the worst she can do?”

I stare at the ceiling. “The worst? Ground me for the rest of junior year, for starters. I’m not exaggerating. I’ve already been grounded since November.”

He rubs his chin. “Wouldn’t tuition for fashion school soften her anger? All you’d have to do is remind her of the fun she and your dad could have with the college fund you’ll no longer need. Maybe a vacation to Fiji?” He takes my hand nonchalantly, as if we’re an old couple. But his skin against mine feels electric, new.

“It’s more complicated than that. Things have been pretty weird between me and my parents for a while.” Geez, why don’t I tell him what brand of tampons I use while I’m at it?

He takes a long breath. “Maybe you need this dare. To change things up.”

My skin burns, sensitive, like maybe he’s seeing too much. “If I don’t get home soon, they’ll be worried.”

“Call them with an excuse. Your car’s old. It broke down and I’m helping you fix it.”

“Like they’d buy that. And even if they did, they’d come track me down. My phone’s camera may suck, but I’m sure the GPS is state of the art.”

“Okay, so you’ve got to decide which is better. Going home now, late for curfew, with credit for new clothes and a phone, or getting home in a few hours with all that plus tuition money? If you end up grounded, use the downtime to work on your portfolio or whatever you need to get accepted into the most expensive program you can. And don’t forget the extra benefits. When your friends see how kick-ass you are in the grand prize round, they’ll forget about that little scene with Sydney, probably find it hilarious.”

Hilarious. Sure. Obviously, he’s telling me this because he thinks he still needs me as his partner and he wants the new car. I feel a little pressured, but who could blame him for trying? Anyway, even without his nudging, the thought of attending fashion school flashes shiny in my brain, like a beacon. Especially since so much of my college fund was raided to pay for hospital bills. Sure, I’d be risking the prizes I’ve already won, but none of those prizes will do much to relieve the tension in my family or open the path for a fresh start.

I wrap my arms around myself. “What do you think’ll happen in the VIP lounge? With thousands of Watchers, they can’t hurt us, right?” Safety in publicity, my new mantra. How many TV shows have relied upon that concept to keep their players from killing each other?

He taps the steering wheel. “They could set things up so that someone else might want to beat the crap out of us. Like those Purity Promisers. But I doubt it would get out of hand. They want to keep attracting players.”

At a stoplight, I stare out of the window at a man walking his dog. When he glances upward, our eyes meet. With a tiny jolt, he shifts direction, tugs at the leash, and crosses the street, as if he thinks I’ll jump out and attack him. Is my face that much of a mess? No one’s ever been afraid of me before. Ever.

Gentle piano notes float from my phone.

Sydney would love that! It could be her big start, and better than anything I could ever get her on my own. It’s as if NERVE knows both of us intimately. Why should that surprise me?

Another text flashes:

Our audience. How big is it? The cast and crew of the play are probably still watching, even though they’ve seen the worst, up close. Or have they? I need advice from someone I trust, someone who doesn’t have a new car at stake. I try phoning Eulie, then Liv, but both calls are blocked.