The Dare (9 page)

Zack reached up and caught it, spilling his beer on the carpet. He didn't seem to notice. He rolled the silver pistol around in his hands, examining it carefully.
“Is it real?” he asked me. “I've never held a real gun before.”

“My dad left it,” I explained. “For protection. Put it away—okay?”

“Yeah. Put it away. Come on!” Caitlin pleaded.

But Zack handed it to Lanny. Lanny pretended to shoot Dennis. Dennis grabbed his chest and staggered to the floor.

The boys laughed. The girls didn't.

I jumped to my feet. “Come on, guys. Stop messing around with that. You're scaring me. You really are.”

“I'm leaving,” Melody said tensely. She slammed her book shut and stood up. “If you don't put that away, I'm leaving. This is just stupid.”

Lanny had tossed down three beers. His eyes were kind of watery. He grinned at Melody. Then he spun the pistol on his finger. “Always wanted to be a cowboy,” he murmured.

“We could shoot Northwood,” Dennis said, scratching his head. “It would be so easy.” He crossed the room and took the pistol from Lanny.

“Bye,” Melody said. “I'm serious. I'm leaving.” She started toward the front hall.

Dennis carried the pistol to the window. He aimed it out at the darkness and pretended to fire it. “Bang. You're dead, Mr. Northwood,” he said, grinning.

He tossed the pistol to Zack. “What do you think, man?”

Zack missed. The gun bounced on the carpet, stopping at his feet.

“Put it away!
Please!”
I shouted.

“We shoot Northwood. Then we hide the gun,” Dennis said. “Then we pretend like nothing happened. No one is going to suspect a group of nice, respectable teenagers like us.”

“You're crazy, Dennis,” Caitlin said shrilly. “You're really crazy.”

Zack aimed the gun at Lanny. “Bang. Gotcha!”

“Give me that!” Lanny demanded. Zack tossed the gun to him. Lanny examined it again. He looked up at me. “Killer gun!” he exclaimed.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” I asked. I walked over and tried to swipe it from his hands. But he tossed it back to Dennis.

Dennis bobbled it. Nearly dropped it. Then he twirled it on his finger.

“Dennis—please!” Melody begged from the doorway.

“Watch this,” Dennis said, grinning at me. “Watch the quick draw.”

“No. Please!” I cried.

Ignoring me, Dennis slid the pistol into his jeans pocket. “At the count of three,” he said, his green eyes flashing excitedly.

He counted to three.

Then he grabbed for the gun cowboy-style and drew it from his pocket.

We all gasped when it went off.

It sounded like the loudest firecracker.

And then Zack let out an agonized scream.

I gaped in open-mouthed horror as the bright blood
spread over the shoulder of his shirt, a small circle at first, growing bigger, bigger …

Zack let out another frightened scream, weaker this time.

Then, clutching his bleeding shoulder, he dropped to his knees. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he slumped heavily forward onto the carpet.

“H
elp me!” Zack groaned. “Get a doctor. The blood … it's …” He grimaced in pain and shut his eyes.

The bright circle of blood spread over the shoulder of his shirt. Blood trickled to the carpet.

“Please …” Zack moaned, his eyes still shut.

We were all in a panic.

Caitlin had her hands pressed against her cheeks. She was panting loudly, shaking her head, large tears rolling down her face. “Do something! He's going to die!” she shrieked. “He's going to die!”

Lanny stood frozen in the center of the room, his eyes wide with fear.

“Ohh, I—I feel sick,” Melody murmured, her face as white as a sheet. She started running to the hallway. But she didn't make it to the bathroom. She got as far as the front entryway and started puking her guts out.

I was as panicked as everyone else. I stood staring down at Zack, screaming, “Call an ambulance! Call an ambulance!” in a high-pitched, shrill voice. But in my horror, I made no attempt to get to the phone.

Melody was retching loudly in the front hall. Caitlin was sobbing, tugging at handfuls of her short brown hair. Lanny hadn't moved from the center of the room.

“You shot him! You shot him! Don't let him die!” Caitlin wailed.

Only Dennis remained able to think clearly. I saw his green eyes narrow as he stared down at Zack. He still gripped the pistol in one hand. He raised his eyes to mine and gestured with it.

“Call 911,” Dennis instructed me. “Hurry. Get the police and an ambulance.”

Dennis's voice was calm and low. His cool manner helped to steady me a little. I obediently made my way to the phone on the table in front of the window.

“Zack—can you walk?” I heard Dennis ask. “Can you stand up? Get up, Zack.”

I called the emergency number. I told them there'd been a shooting. I gave them my address. I was starting to think clearly again. My heart was still racing. My hands were as cold as ice. But my mind was starting to work.

When I turned around, I saw Dennis and Lanny helping Zack toward the front door. There was a dark puddle of blood on the carpet where Zack had fallen.

“No! Don't move him!” I cried.

“We have to. I have an idea!” Dennis snapped at me.

“Stop the bleeding!” Caitlin screamed. “Stop the bleeding! He's going to die!”

“Clean up the blood—quick!” Dennis ordered me. He and Lanny were dragging Zack toward the door. Zack groaned in pain.

“Dennis, I don't understand! Where are you taking him?” I asked, totally confused.

“You'll see,” Dennis replied tensely. “I have a good idea, Johanna. I'll explain later. There's no time. Just clean up the blood! Hurry!”

Zack groaned. “It … hurts … really bad.”

“Don't let him die!” Caitlin shrieked. “Please don't let him die!”

Zack had his arms around the two boys' shoulders. They guided him slowly from the room. “The ambulance is coming,” Lanny told Zack. “It's coming.”

“Keep walking,” Dennis told him. “Can you walk? Keep going, man.”

They made their way past Melody, who was leaning against the wall, holding her stomach with one hand. Her blond hair had fallen over her face. She was struggling to catch her breath.

“Don't move him! He's bleeding too much!” Caitlin called in panic.

“Help Johanna clean up,” Dennis ordered her. “It'll be okay. Trust me. Trust me.”

Caitlin and I stared quizzically at each other. What on earth could Dennis be thinking of?

My mind was spinning. I couldn't think clearly at all. I kept hearing the gun go off, kept seeing the circle of blood grow wider on Zack's shirt.

I'll listen to Dennis, I decided.

Dennis has a plan. Dennis has an idea.

I ran to the kitchen to get sponges and a mop and soap. Caitlin followed close behind. I don't think she wanted to be alone.

“What is Dennis doing?” she asked me in a tiny frightened voice. “Zack needs a doctor! A doctor! Where are they taking him? We're in such trouble. Such terrible trouble. What is Dennis
doing?”

“I don't know,” I replied, pulling open the broom closet and dragging out the cleaning supplies. “I think we have to do what he says.”

“But what is Dennis
doing?”
Caitlin repeated, her eyes red and tight with terror. “What is he doing?”

We cleaned up the living room as best we could. Melody was no help at all. She was bent over in a chair, crying and holding her stomach.

As soon as we'd finished, Caitlin and I left her there and hurried outside. It was a cold, moonless night. Low black clouds made the sky darker than usual.

I heard the rising wail of sirens close by.

The police and ambulance are on their way, I thought.

Will Zack be okay? I wondered. Will they get here in time?

And then the approaching sirens reminded me that we were all in serious trouble.

My mom suddenly flashed into my mind. What would she say when she learned we'd been playing with the gun and accidentally shot Zack?

What if Zack dies? I thought. What if he bleeds to death?

Would we all be arrested for murder?

I shook my head hard, trying to force that thought from my mind.

“What are we doing out here?” I asked aloud.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw the three boys in Mr. Northwood's yard. Zack was lying on his back in the grass. Lanny stood over him. Dennis came jogging to the driveway when he saw Caitlin and me.

“Just go along with my story,” he urged us breathlessly. Even in the darkness I could see the excitement on his face.

“Where—where's the gun?” I asked.

Dennis pointed toward the house.

“I don't understand,” I murmured.

The yard filled with swirling red lights. The twin sirens wailed—and then cut off. Headlights rolled over Zack, lying on the cold, hard ground with his knees slightly raised.

Mr. Northwood's porch light flashed on.

The front door opened. Mr. Northwood stepped out on the stoop. He was in a black turtleneck and baggy gray sweat pants.

“What's going on? What's happening?” the teacher shouted, anger mixed with confusion.

His shoe bumped something. He bent over. And I saw him pick up an object.

The pistol!

Red lights swirled over everything. Car doors slammed behind us.

Zack lay motionless on the lawn.

It was hard to see anything in the swirling red lights and blinding white headlights.

Two dark-uniformed police officers appeared, hands on their gun holsters. “What's happening here?” one of them demanded.

“He shot Zack!” Dennis cried, pointing at Mr. Northwood.

“Huh?” The police officer raised his eyes to the stoop. “Hey!” he screamed angrily. “You! Drop the gun! Now!”

Mr. Northwood uttered a startled cry. He let the pistol fall.

“He shot Zack!” Dennis repeated, still pointing at Mr. Northwood. “Northwood shot Zack!”

D
ennis lowered his face to mine and kissed my cheek.

The kiss sent a shiver down the back of my neck. I turned to kiss his lips. A long, tender kiss. When it ended, I slid my hands behind his head and kissed him again.

The car windows had steamed up. I couldn't see out at all. We were alone in our own warm, private world.

Leaning over the seat, I held him close. I could smell the coconut shampoo he'd used on his hair.

“I'd better get home,” I whispered. “Before Mom gets back from work. You know I'm not allowed to see you.”

“Just a few more minutes,” he pleaded, his eyes burning into mine.

It was two weeks later, two weeks after the terrible night Zack had been shot. Zack was okay. Miraculously,
the bullet hadn't damaged anything vital in his shoulder. It would be healed completely in a few months.

But nothing was the same for any of the rest of us.

At first, the police had been ready to believe that Mr. Northwood shot Zack. His fingerprints were on the gun, after all.

But then they learned that the gun was registered to my dad. And then they saw the bloodstains on my carpet that I hadn't been able to get up.

And then the truth came out.

We had no choice. We had to tell them what really happened.

The officers drove us to the Shadyside police station. I don't remember if they charged us with a crime or not. I was so messed up. And so frightened.

Dennis's parents and the other parents got to the police station at once. I don't know how they did it, but they got the whole thing hushed up. It was all taken care of that night. The shooting never even made the newspaper.

The next day, the parents appeared at school and tried to get us all transferred from Mr. Northwood's class. But the school didn't cooperate.

Mr. Northwood didn't press charges or anything. Maybe the parents paid him something. I don't know.

We all had to continue in his history class. And now he was really on our case—mine too. He was cold and cruel, and he didn't even try to
appear
to be fair.

He piled on tons of extra homework, especially on weekends, and made us do long, boring papers the
other kids didn't have to write. He gave us failing grades on exams for the stupidest reasons. All in all, he did everything he could to pay us back and make our lives miserable.

After the shooting, my mom didn't react the way I thought she would. I guess parents seldom do.

I thought she would scream and yell and get hysterical. But instead, she quietly told me how disappointed in me she was.

I think I
wanted
her to scream and yell. The hurt look in her eyes was a lot more painful than any harsh words would have been.

“Your rich friends are a bad influence,” Mom said softly, wet tears brimming in her tired eyes. “I won't allow you to see any of them again.” She gave me a speech about how irresponsible I was to take the gun out, and locked it away in the bottom drawer of the desk in the living room.

And so I'd been sneaking out to see Dennis ever since.

I didn't like sneaking around behind my mom's back. But I couldn't help it. I was falling in love with Dennis. And I would do anything to see him.

We would park up on River Ridge, the high cliff that overlooked town. It was a popular parking spot for Shadyside High kids, but it was so cold out, we were usually the only car up there.

Dennis and I would hold each other. And kiss—long, sweet kisses. And talk.

Mostly Dennis would talk about how Mr. Northwood was ruining his life, destroying his chances to
be on the Olympic track team, and ruining his whole future.

“He's going to fail me. I know he is,” Dennis would say, shaking his head unhappily. “He wants to pay us all back. He's going to flunk us all.”