Dare Me (4 page)

“Thanks, Chuck. I’ll get that tattooed.”

He keeps churning the sauce. “You should, that’s some damn good advice. Like this is: Alexia was talking about how you are
following
each other, whatever the hell that stalkery shit means. But she seemed to like it. You should go for her.”

Here he goes again. I swear he wishes he could be young again. But his game didn’t seem to work out so well the first time around, and he hasn’t seemed to learn much since then. He may need to rethink his entire approach. I want to offer this advice, but instead, I pull out my phone and check Twitter. Sure enough, there’s the follow back. I’ve got another follow, from Chantel. Wow! Her big boobs are pretty much all of her profile pic. I tap to follow and wonder where this will lead. Chuck grumbles and I look up.

“You know, I meant by actually talking to her. You kids and those stupid phones. Face-to-face is the only way to get shit done.”

Chuck doesn’t even own a computer. We only have a website because his cousin built it for him. But you can’t order through it, and it hasn’t been updated in forever. He’s a dinosaur, but I take his advice. “Watch, I’ll go talk to her.”

“Good, but don’t make an ass out of yourself.”

I walk to the counter where Alexia is counting the drawer. I wait until she slides the money into the drop envelope before I speak. I can’t stand it when people try to speak to me when I’m dealing with numbers, especially cash. “Hey, Alexia.”

She jumps and puts a hand to her chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I know CPR. I would have brought you back to life.” As I say it, I feel a little like Chuck.

“Thanks, I guess.” She rolls her eyes and swats me with the envelope. “Hey, I saw that link on a bunch of people’s pages. Tell Ricky that was a nice catch.”

My ears ring but I play it cool. “All right. We still have our bet for the second stunt?”

“You still sticking with the bridge jump?”

My face is hopping, like it wants to smile, but if I do, she’ll know something’s up. And after signing that contract today—for exactly what, I’m not sure—there’s too much on the line for me to lose it around Alexia. It takes a lot of effort to say, “Yeah, I am. You?”

“I think it would be hilarious if they went streaking through some store.”

“Is that your thing? Guys running around naked?”

She blushes and I feel bad, but it is also so familiar. I could do this all afternoon.

“No, you know that’s not what does it for me.” She turns away, and when she speaks, her voice is barely a whisper. “I’d like to stay hidden forever.”

Everything freezes for a moment. Did she just say what I think she said? Her eyes scan mine. She doesn’t only look at me; she is searching to find out whether I remember. Of course I do. “But if you stay hidden forever. The game never ends.”

Her face droops. “Yeah, that’s it.”

I want to touch her hand or shoulder, something. She was smiling, but her tone was sad. I don’t know why reminiscing about hide-and-seek would do that. Alexia shakes her head, as if getting rid of a thought, and looks up.

“If it’s a bet, then something has to be at stake.”

“Of course. Name it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Hmm. Let me think.”

I can’t imagine I have much she’d want, but I wait patiently.

“This is totally going to sound stupid.”

“No, it’ll be fine. What?”

She shields half her face from me. “Talking about when we were kids got me thinking.” She pauses. “You remember that one story, the one I loved?”

“The legend of Sherlock’s corner?” As if I need to ask.

“Yeah, that’s it! I win, you tell it to me.”

I’d recite that story right now if she asked. I don’t understand why she’d want me to retell it, because I’m sure she knows it by heart, but this is her bet. “And if I win?”

“Fine,
if
you win?”

“You bring me to a party.”

Alexia stares. “Just you?” And the way she asks lets me know how to answer.

“By me I meant John and Ricky, too.”

“You’re hanging with Ricky again, aren’t you?”

I’m surprised she’s noticed. “Yeah. We’re older now . . .” I don’t finish, because I don’t really know if anything’s changed.

“Sure. The three of you, that’d be fun.” She extends her hand.

I shake it and force myself not to hold on longer than necessary, but enough to say, “Deal,” and feel the delicacy of her wrist as we shake. And because of that fragility I look down. There at the edge of her wrist and palm, beneath the pinkie, are bruises. Not one random. A pattern of four, equidistant, and thick, with a fifth toward her elbow, square in the center. Shit.

I’d ask about this if I could. But if we weren’t working together we’d probably never have spoken again. She’s got Jesse Holmes, the king of the school. And it’s obvious that in her mind I’m still her friend. The one she used to play childhood games with.

We turn away from each other and I don’t know if it’s because she saw me noticing or simply because our conversation is over. So I say good night to Chuck and drive home. Thank God I’m good with directions because I don’t pay attention to a single sign or light.

CHAPTER 5

“T
he Gorge” is an old quarry
that is now filled with water. Ragged rocks line the sides of steep slopes that turn into pools of black, cold water. Some kid supposedly dove into the largest with his scuba gear and said it was over one hundred feet deep.

“You have to jump from right here,” Ricky says. “Move left or right and we’re filming a suicide.” I chew on my lip. John holds his breath. None of us, including Ricky, has ever jumped off the bridge.

There’s a silence that follows, which is broken by a passing truck. The driver looks over and stares, probably wondering what we’re up to, but he keeps on driving. It’s too early on a Saturday for him, I’m sure. Ricky picked us up around 5:30, and the sun’s now coming up. He wanted time to set up his new camera and make sure the angle was correct and that we could all work it.

“Where’d you get that,” I ask, although I have an idea.

“Our business partner. He wants to make sure we have the most high-def video possible.”

Of course he does. And the camera now rests on the tripod in the early sunlight, like some happy rooster calling us to the show.

Our partner has also added another touch—uniforms. Ricky gave us full black outfits, shoes, pants, and long-sleeve tees. Apparently he didn’t like all the blurring either.

But what the fuck? This is . . . holy shit, too much. There’s more to worry about here than anywhere else in my life. This
here and now
is ridiculous.

I look over the railing, at the water rolling below, the tight fit of the rock sides, and I can’t help it, I think,
This will be amazing.
What is wrong with me?

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m
not
moving for at least another month. “They still don’t know,” is all Dad said. My parents then got drunk celebrating. Possibly I want to see the reaction at school? It was tepid after the surfing because no one knew, but they know now, and will be watching. Or maybe it’s because I’ll win the bet with Alexia? That’s as petty as Ricky can be. Or is it? Shit, I don’t know, and I highly doubt I will until after this is over. Maybe not even then?

I walk over to my bag and pull out the black linen napkins that I bought at this store in the mall. I think I was the only person in there under eighty-five. The idea just came to me and I moved on it. Because I guess that’s how I roll. Shit, I’m losing it.

“Guys, I’d like to add one last touch to this dare.”

Ricky and John come away from the railing. I walk to them and place a napkin in their hands.

“We’re going to do this blindfolded.”

“The fuck you just say?” Ricky asks.

John shakes his head.

“Think about it. It’s one thing to do this jump. It takes balls. But there are guys in our school who have done this. They’ll dis this dare, saying how it’s not that dangerous.” I swallow, surprised at how dry my throat has gone. “But there’s no one I’ve heard of who has ever had the stones to do this without being able to see.”

Another silence. Then Ricky. “Hot damn, motherfucker! This is what’s going to make us famous. I love you, Ben!” He gives me a hug.

John stares blankly for a second, then asks, “Under or over the masks?”

“Over. We need to get them off so we can see after the jump, right?”

Ricky cracks out his phone and starts texting.

“Who?” I ask, and point at his phone.

Ricky ignores me, but a moment later yells, “That’s what I thought!” He holds up his phone. “Our partner loves the idea. Nice job, Ben.”

“Doesn’t he have a name?” John asks.

That’s a damn good question, and I’m glad John asked, because now I can focus on something else, instead of how scary being blind will be.

Ricky steps toward him. “His name’s on the contract. It’s O. P. Daniels, the same one from the comment section.”

He looks around at us, I think to see if we’re surprised. I’m not in the slightest. There’s something to the fact that Ricky hasn’t said this man’s name until now. I don’t know what it is, but I’ll figure it out soon enough.

John opens his mouth to speak, but Ricky interrupts.

“John, listen. I know you may be scared. I don’t blame you with your scholarship and all.” His voice is soothing. “But we’re doing this jump because it’s fucking awesome. We’re doing this jump because we’re going to make money. And we’re doing this jump blindfolded because Ben had a sweet idea. It’s about our legacy. Remember.”

John looks at me and doesn’t answer Ricky.

Ricky grabs him around the neck with one hand and loops the other around mine before walking to the railing. “Trust me.”

“You okay?” I ask John, but I keep my eyes on Ricky.

“Not really. You?”

“I may shit myself I’m so nervous.” I laugh and John chuckles a little.

Then he asks, “So why the blindfolds? Isn’t the bridge enough?”

I feel as if Dad’s standing next to me, not John. His tone is the same as when I used to get lectured about Ricky. But it’s not Dad, and I’m not in eighth grade. “I want this to work. I don’t know why, except . . .” I don’t finish.

“Except what? Seriously, Ben, I’d love to know, because this is some crazy shit and we both know I’m not smart enough to figure all this out. Hook me up. Why are we doing this? The contract?”

“I’m not concerned about the contract. That’s not why I wanted to do the first dare. I don’t want to get to the end of senior year and feel like it all passed me by. You know?”

John grunts.

“Maybe you wouldn’t. You have basketball. What do I have?”

“You got me.” John shoulders me. “And that brain of yours.”

“I guess. But you know what I mean. Stories. Action. A fucking life. I get decent grades, do as I’m told, and it’s just so boring.”

John claps my shoulder. “This sure as shit won’t be boring. Let’s get to it.”

There’s no time to thank John, because Ricky’s back to business.

“Here we are, gentlemen. Dare number two. Time to man up. Let’s get our masks on.” He pauses. “Who’s going first?”

Another silence. We look at one another, through the slits of our ski masks, while holding black napkins. We must look like some cult. John steps up. “I want this over with.”

“Ben, hit up the camera. I gotta direct.” Ricky shows John where to plant his feet and talks about going in like a pencil.

I turn the power on and stare at the screen. It feels, for a moment, like I’m not here with them, like this is someone else’s post and I’m at home in front of my computer. I like that idea a little too much, the voyeurism. It feels so
safe
. Then I look over the railing. It’s a long way down, and the water’s moving at a good clip. We’ve got to grab a section of rock and pull ourselves out, after. There’s no time to panic. I turn back to Ricky and John and none of this feels fake anymore.

“All right. So Ben, you’ll get me, then a shot of the Gorge, and then John jumping,” Ricky says. “Stay tight on him. I’ll grab the camera from you and run across the bridge and narrate as he gets out. Do a little interview and that’ll be that. We’ll take turns with the camera. Cool?”

“Sure.”

“Good. John, you solid?”

“Yeah.” His voice is weak, but he’s sitting on the railing, both legs over the side. All he has to do is stand. And jump.

“On me, Ben. In three, two, one . . .”

I hit record.

“Here we are today for our second dare. For those of you that missed the first, make sure to search YouTube for ‘Brookwood High Senior Year Dare Number One,’ now brought to you by Get Out There Adventure.”

I cringe when he says this.

“Today we will be jumping off the Wash Kill Bridge, into what is known around here as the Gorge.” Ricky motions for me to pan, so I do.

The camera follows a line over the railing and down to the water below. Ricky continues.

“The jump is estimated at seventy-five feet into a moving river, depth unknown. There’s only a twenty-foot width of water at this point, so we can’t waver in either direction.”

I pan up the walls of the far ledge and my heart pounds in my chest. I return to Ricky’s smiling face.

“To add a true element of danger, we will be jumping blindfolded.” Ricky holds out the napkin and motions to John.

I zoom in on him and he’s calming himself, holding his breath and letting it out slow. The napkin is tied around his head and he looks more like some prisoner of war than my friend. I feel awful for what I’ve made him do.

“Now, let’s test to make sure he can’t really see.” Ricky holds up his phone and has pulled up a pic of some model in a bikini. There’s no way John won’t react if he sees a little skin. Ricky walks over to the railing.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Ricky places the phone in front of John’s face.

“Funny. I bet one.” He doesn’t say anything about the model.

Ricky cocks his head and shrugs, then steps back and squares to the camera.

“Without further ado.” Ricky steps back to John, saying something to him, and John stands while Ricky holds his elbow. He releases John and my knees wobble. John’s stooped, and this looks like it’s going to end badly. I want to scream for him to stop but I don’t.