Dare Me by Eric Devine Read Free Book Online Page B

Teachers are no longer minding their beginning-of-the-year manners, if they had any to begin with.
    We split and I head to calculus, where we discuss the logic of the relationship between differentiability and continuity—things are more likely to be different than continuous. I almost laugh out loud at this, but instead look around at the class. They’re spellbound.
    In PE we learn how to throw a football. Seriously. At least the kid I’m paired with doesn’t make fun of the way I throw. However, he keeps a stream of ideas flowing for what he’d like to see in the next dare. The irony almost kills me, but his visions are worse—all weird, sexual, perverse shit, like stripping down and whipping each other, or covering ourselves in plastic wrap after we’re naked and then going grocery shopping. I lob the ball and say, “unh huh,” while the kids around us laugh so hard they miss passes and footballs bounce every which way.
    I head to study hall and have to do a check on the room number. Chantel’s here. She wasn’t last time. I’d remember. I take a deep breath and move down the aisle and try to quiet all the panic alarms going off in my head. I need to talk to her. She’s close to Alexia, and it’s worth fighting my fear to have this conversation. I sit and force myself to be brave. “Chantel, right?”
    She crinkles her nose. “Yeah.”
    “You’re Alexia’s friend.”
    She doesn’t answer, but looks at me blankly and my heart beats triple time.
    “Sorry. I’m Ben, Alexia and I work together. She’s pointed you out to me.” It’s a plausible lie.
    She sits up. “That’s right. I know you.”
    I feel a wash of relief. Beautiful girls, in my experience, have a way of filling your fantasies, but in reality, smash the shit out of you. “Did you change your schedule?”
    “Yeah. I decided not to take psychology. Mr. Timms is an ass.”
    I’ve never had him, but I agree. That’s what you’re supposed to do when beautiful girls make proclamations.
    I turn back to my physics book, because I don’t want to seem desperate or pushy. I can’t blow this opportunity. I read Newton’s Second Law: The acceleration of an object as produced by a net force is directly proportional to the magnitude of the net force, in the same direction as the net force, and inversely proportional to the mass of the object.
    Right. So, positive things continue in a positive direction, negative, well, negatively; the acceleration matches the force applied, and the larger the mass, the slower the acceleration. Hmm. Was Newton also psychic?
    I look over at Chantel, and Newton is wiped away by her lips. She’s putting on gloss and I can’t stop staring.
    “Ben, everything okay?” Chantel frowns.
    “Uh, yeah.” I close my eyes so I can focus, so I can keep myself from saying the wrong thing. My head’s a mess from the conversation with Ricky earlier, but I refuse to let that get in the way. Here goes nothing. “What’s up with Alexia?”
    Chantel gives me a small smile and looks around to see if anyone is listening. No one is. She leans across the aisle. “Where do you want me to begin?”
    —
    We’re at Ricky’s locker and I can’t focus on what they’re talking about. Something about the check from O. P. Instead, I scratch my forehead and think about what Chantel said: “Alexia’s has had a rough go of it. Her dad’s responsible for the shit going down at the plant. Money’s tight, and her parents, they totally go after each other. Big fights.”
    I asked what she meant by “go after” but she shook her head and zipped her lips. I understand. It was a bit too much prying, and who knows, maybe Chantel assumed I was trying to get dirt on Alexia. That’s what everyone does around here—pretends to be a friend and then stabs you in the back. I don’t think this town or school is unique. Or the situation. Because that’s how it felt when Alexia moved away and stopped talking to me. I didn’t understand, and I