Dare Me (16 page)

—

The day after Halloween
is All Saints’ Day. I learned this last night while I was online, too wired to sleep. I think it’s appropriate because someone must have saved our sorry asses. We managed to pull it off, again. And because it was bigger and more badass than the last it can only mean our trajectory is vaulting in a terrifying direction. Because of Ricky? Or because of O. P.?

Regardless of who’s responsible, today we’re all anyone is talking about. Ricky and Trevor managed to get the video edited and online before midnight, and the views have been rolling in nonstop. Ricky may be right about the money we’re making. I hope so for John’s sake. And he’s right that I could use the money now. Dad not working is going to hurt.

But this buzz also sucks because I made a promise to myself to pay more attention after my interim came home. I kept it from my parents in the hope that it wouldn’t matter, that I could turn things around. So now here I am, trying my ass off, but I don’t really care that “mass in motion equals momentum.” I pretty much learned that last night.

The dude in
Monte Cristo
is going to get out, eventually. “It’s a foregone conclusion.” At least that’s what some smart girl in class said. It’s too painful to read about him trying and failing and trying and failing. Really, great story line.

Econ means nothing to me and I’ve found a kid in calculus who I can cheat off. So, I’m done. It’s kind of frightening how easy it is to give up right after swearing to myself that I’d do better.

—

“
You
didn’t break anything,
did you?” Ginny asks, and I frown at my phone.

“No, we all are fine, even John. The hay was softer than you’d think.” I sit on my bed.

Ginny sighs. “That really isn’t much of a comfort, Benny. I’m worried. What’s next?”

Even if I knew I wouldn’t tell her. “Don’t know. But I’m sure you’ll get some good details for your research.”

“That’s not the point and you know it. Can’t you see that what you’re doing is insane? Most of the stories I read, the interviews with teens who’ve done shit like you—played chicken in traffic, skied off rooftops, whatever—a lot of them don’t make it. They end up dead.”

I close my eyes and try not to envision what she’s said, but of course I see my body in a heap on the pavement. “Shit, Ginny, thanks for the call. Anything else about my life you want to thrash?”

“I would if there was anything else to your life.” She pauses. “How bad are your grades?”

“They’re fine,” I say through gritted teeth. I’m close to hanging up on her.

“Fine as in you could get into a state school, or fine as in you’ll have fun with all the slackers at community college?”

“Jesus, Ginny, what’s up your ass?”

“I don’t know, Ben, what do you think? Dad lost his job, they essentially lost the house, and now you’re trying to kill yourself.” She chokes up, but I don’t know which part does it to her.

“Ginny, it’s not like that. What I’m doing has nothing to do with the other shit.”

“Of course it does. You’re too blind to see it. Have you checked how many followers you have on your website?”

“Huh?” My head rushes.

“Really, Benny, you don’t know how to check on your followers?”

I didn’t even know we had a site.

“Get online.” The tear-choked voice is gone. Ginny has something to prove, so she’s fine again.

I go to my computer and type in the address. It’s a real basic page, the background all black. The only content is links to our YouTube videos and Twitter. None for Get Out There Adventure. That’s weird. The most important feature is the countdown clock. It reads: time until the next dare and displays 30 days, 20 hours, and 15 minutes.

“Look in the right corner, at the bottom,” Ginny says.

The number is astounding. “More than eight thousand?”

The phone rumbles as Ginny adjusts it. “Ben, listen to me. This is becoming too big. You’re going to get caught, probably arrested, maybe even kicked out of school.”

“Not if I’m dead.” I try to laugh, but my body seems to realize how inappropriate that was and won’t.

Ginny stays silent.

“Sorry,” I say.

“Yeah, you are. I wish you were a couple years older, you’d understand.”

I could argue that she has no idea what she’s talking about because she’s never done anything as remotely cool as this. She’s always read and studied and completed her projects ahead of time and received endless praise and awards. Not me. I tried that, and couldn’t measure up. Besides, if I’m honest, I can admit that being a Goody Two-shoes blows. So these dares are my award.

When we’re done and our names are synonymous with “badass,” I can look back and say, “I did that.” But for now, I’ve got nothing except some money, so arguing would be futile.

“Well, I’m not, so we’ll see what happens in twenty-nine days.”

“No, Benny. You’ve got to stop now.”

“Answer me honestly. Do you want to stop your research now?”

“Benny, that’s not fair, I know what you’re trying to pull.”

“Just answer. Come on.”

It takes her a second, but she says, “No, I don’t, but . . .”

“That’s enough.” I cut her off. “So don’t ask me to stop what I have, what I’m enjoying.”

She growls a frustrated sound. “But why? How can
this
be what you’re into? You’re Ben. Benny Bear.”

“But I’m not. And you know it.”

She sighs. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

“I will.”

We hang up and I stare at the countdown clock. That time will move regardless of what I do or what Ginny says. As it does, we’ll march closer and closer to whatever’s next. A chill runs up my spine at the thought. I’m less afraid of the unknown than I’ve ever been before. I spy my interim peeking out from beneath my books. I don’t know if this is a positive or negative development.

CHAPTER 17

I
sit in class
and enjoy a little time zoning out. The school is still buzzing today, which is equally cool and unnerving. Ricky was right about the hits. We actually exceeded the ten thousand mark.

McNeil spent yesterday with the technology people and the fire department, probably checking on how the alarm went off. Today he’s been with the cops.

And I’m moving tomorrow, which sucks. I’ve been too busy to think about it, or have avoided doing so. Either way, it’s happening, and nothing I could learn in this moment is going to change that. It’s all too much, so deep breathing won’t settle me, but powering down and living inside my head should do the trick.

At the bell, I snap back and head into the hall and a surge of gossip. Something’s up. People are looking at their phones and talking with animated gestures. It looks like something big went down. I haul ass to Ricky’s locker. He’s with Trevor, and they don’t look relieved to see me.

“You heard?” Ricky says.

“No. But I can tell.” I motion to the kids in the hall.

“No shit? Here.” He thrusts Trev’s phone at me, and I press PLAY on the video. Jesse Holmes, Chris Carsdale, and Danny Blackman are being led out of the school in handcuffs, each with a police officer guiding them. McNeil appears in the background, arms crossed, looking like he’d choke them out if he could.

“What the . . . ?” I don’t finish. Don’t need to.

“Guess McNeil took us seriously,” Ricky says. “Rumor is they’re charged with setting off the alarm. That and they found the catapult. Put two and two together, I guess.”

“Plus our accusation.” I whisper this, as if anyone is listening. But no one is paying attention to anything besides their own retelling of the story. This is going to go one of two ways. We’re either going to get caught because whatever evidence they have is going to be scrutinized, and if we messed up at all, it’s over. Or we’re safe. They’ve got scapegoats.

But I also know what Jesse is capable of. We may prefer the police to him if he manages to think this through.

—

“What is up, Doc?”
Chuck’s voice knocks me back as I enter the shop.

He barrels over and I wince. He’s way too happy for this to be good. “Do you have any idea how many customers I’ve had in here today looking for you?”

I’m confused. “What? Why would they want
me
?”

“Not
you
. They want to see the guy from the video. They think because I was mentioned as a sponsor the kid from the dare works here. My lunch crowd hasn’t been that good in over a year.”

I look over at the prep cooks and they nod, both their faces fatigued. “So you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Those guys were arrested. Guess they pulled the school’s fire alarm as a distraction and stole that catapult.”

Chuck squints and puts a hand to his forehead. “Shit, Doc. I thought these guys were on the up and up.”

“I’m sorry, Chuck.” There’s no way for me to convey how much I truly mean those words without blowing my cover.

“Not your problem. You only did what I asked.” He looks around. “Leave me alone. I need to figure out an alibi.” He trudges to his office. I stare at the closed door for a second, but then look over at Alexia and dread my next move.

Of course I heard how she reacted. Horribly. Broke down in tears. Called McNeil a liar. Chantel calmed her down and I think they left school early, so I’m surprised she’s here.

“Hey, Alexia,” I say as I punch in. “How’s it goin’?”

She shakes her head. Her face is puffy and her chin looks fragile, as if she might start crying any second.

“I’m sure Chuck won’t care if you take off. We can pick up the slack.”

Alexia shakes her head. “I’d rather be here than at home. My parents know and my dad’s beyond pissed that I could ‘date someone like that.’” She drops her voice to sound like her father and it’s pretty spot on. She turns to me, her face a red-streaked mess. “Am I that much of an idiot, Ben?”

I start to answer but she continues.

“Because I just don’t see it. Why would Jesse bother with any of that? It makes no sense.”

I nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“And why would Chuck sponsor whoever those idiots are?” She throws down the stack of money she was sorting. “You don’t know who they are, do you? You said Ricky just saw their first video, right?”

That’s the lie we’re going with, right? Shit. I didn’t think I could feel worse. Wrong about that, and apparently, so much else. I grab the money. “Yeah. Weird, huh? Let me help.”

Alexia sits on the stool and stares out the window while I organize the bills into separate piles and calculate the total.

She sighs when I finish and hand over the drop bag. “Thanks, Ben. This has been rough. This whole year.”

“I know,” I say.

She tilts her head. “Yeah, you would, I guess.”

My throat clamps.

“You’ve been with Chantel a lot. She talks about me?”

Even though I thought she was going to say something else, this question brings no relief. “Little bit,” I say.

She smiles like she’s stoned, and I’m afraid for her well-being. “Yeah, friends are like that.”

If I could be honest with her, we’d have one hell of an interesting conversation about friends. Me included. But I can’t. I’m not even sure what she and Chantel are to each other. Same goes for Chantel and me. There was that one night at Danielle’s and then really not much else.

More important is my question about
us
. Are we friends? I feel like I did what I did to help her. That’s what friends do. But looking at Alexia now, that notion of saving her from him feels pretty stupid. But those bruises . . . and he’s such an asshole. But if she doesn’t see any of this, what good have I done?

—

Chuck wasn’t bullshitting me.
All night it was, “Hey, are you the kid from YouTube?”

Every time I shook my head and said, “No, he doesn’t work there.”

They all laughed and asked me if I was sure. I told them I was positive, but no one believed me.
Nervous
doesn’t touch how I feel, and I could probably sell my own video on calming through breathing. My lungs are amazing.

Alexia did leave early, which I was glad to see; she needed the rest. But Chuck left early, too, so I have no idea what’s what. Which is pretty much the rule of my life at the moment.

I pull into the driveway and my house is lit up, every light on. I can see my parents through the window, packing our stuff into giant cardboard boxes. I step in and the bright lights are worse.

“Hey, Benny,” Dad says with no enthusiasm.

“Hey,” I match his tone.

My mother walks in the room with an armful of newspapers and hugs me with her free arm. “We’re going to get through this. You only need to take care of your room.” She looks me over. “How about you stay home from school tomorrow and finish up? The movers won’t be here until the afternoon anyway.” She kisses my cheek.

A day away from the madness sounds wonderful, except for the fact it comes with a hell of a price tag: my home. “Sounds good. I’ll go get started.”

“Okay,” Mom says. I watch the two of them for a moment and head to my room.

I stand in the doorway and look around. I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me, but I plow into my bed and lie facedown. In spite of how much my mind is spinning, I start drifting off, but my cell vibrates stirring me back. I pull it from my pocket. Ricky:
We hit 15,000!!!
I don’t know how to respond. It’s awesome because the money is going to be fantastic, but after everything today it scares the shit out of me at the same time.

I roll off my bed and onto my desk chair, pull up our website. We’ve got over nine thousand followers now. I pull up my calendar and check November to see what I’m supposed to be paying attention to. Damn. The SAT is this Saturday. I haven’t studied. At all. I rest my forehead against the desk lip and stare at my sneakers. I’m going to have to cram nonstop. But how? We’re moving tomorrow, I’ll be exhausted, and I don’t even own a review book. There must be websites.

I look back at the screen and stare at the clock ticking. I’ve signed on for an entire year of this. My senior year is going to be nothing but eluding death and possibly the authorities. There’s no evidence of us doing anything illegal. But is it only a matter of time? Has to be with what we did to Holmes and his crew. They’ll be scouring for answers. Shit.