Not Anything by Carmen Rodrigues Read Free Book Online Page B

I move, I might lose the feeling of Danny’s body so close to mine.
    So I sit alone in the dark, and, for the first time in my entire life, I experience what it is to ache.

ELEVEN
truth or dare
    around midnight, marisol persuades me to play truth or dare. It’s a game that we play on a regular basis. It’s our way of catching up with each other. But tonight it feels dangerous. I make sure to go first. The plan is to steer the conversation past Danny Diaz, past his head resting on my thigh.
    “Truth or dare,” I begin, lighting several candles perched delicately on Marisol’s nightstand table.
    “Truth.”
    “Do you think your mom likes my dad?”
    “Yes,” Marisol replies quickly. “My turn. Why was Dan—”
    “Really? You think so?” The answer makes me feel uncomfortable. “Why?” My dad is a hermit crab. Why does she like him?
    “It’s my turn,” Marisol says, ignoring my question.
    “But, it’s a quick question to answer.”
    “The rules,” Marisol snaps. “Stop breaking the rules.”
    “Fine,” I say with a glare, “but I don’t appreciate your tone.”
    “Whatever. Truth or dare?”
    “Dare.”
    “Huh?” Marisol gives me a suspicious look. “You’ve never picked dare before.”
    “Dare,” I repeat.
    “Okay, I dare you…”—she gives me a wicked smile—“to drink water from the toilet bowl.”
    “What?” Secret or no secret, I wasn’t drinking water from a toilet bowl. “That’s crazy.”
    “No.” Marisol stands up. “It’s a dare. It’s supposed to be daring.”
    “Well, I’m not sticking my face in a toilet bowl.”
    “Yes, you are.”
    “No,” I tell her, “I’m not! You can’t give me something really gross as a dare.”
    “It’s not gross. My dog drinks water from the toilet bowl, and dogs have the cleanest mouths in the world.”
    “Your dog eats her own shit!”
    “And she washes it down with toilet water.” She pauses dramatically. “Okay, I dare you…to make out with Danny Diaz.”
    “You can’t dare that—”
    “Why? Because he’s super-ugly, right?”
    “I didn’t say that!” I protest.
    “So…then he’s cute?”
    “The whole school thinks he’s cute. It’s not my opinion,” I exclaim. “It’s a fact!”
    “Well,” Marisol says calmly, “according to the rules you can’t back down on a dare that’s not gross. So this Wednesday when you tutor him, you have to absolutely make out with him—”
    “You can’t force me to make out with some guy on a dare.” My voice rises. “And you know that we have a professional relationship. A professional relationship!” I scream so loudly that Lola, their dog, starts howling outside.
    “A professional relationship? Hah!” Marisol points accusingly in the direction of the living room. “Since when does ‘professional tutoring’ involve sitting with your pupil between your thighs ?”
    “He had a tension headache! I was applying my fingers to his third eye.”
    “More like his third leg—”
    “Wh—what?” My mouth flops to the floor. “That’s just gross.”
    “Well, hey,” she says in a whiny voice, “where can I get a dumb, hot soccer player with tension headaches? I want one of those!”
    “So you admit he’s hot?” I thrust my finger accusingly in her face.
    “Hellooooo?” Marisol flicks me in the nose, and the tension cracks.
    “You’re such an über-bitch,” I tell her.
    “I know.” Marisol plops down on her bed, and we both bust out laughing.
    “Were you really going to make me drink toilet water?”
    “Yep.”
    “Make out with Danny Diaz?”
    “Yep.”
    “Why do you think whenever we use his first name in a sentence, we follow it with his last?”
    “Because it sounds cool,” she says.
    “Yep.”
    “So, scoop.” Marisol curls up in a ball and tucks her pillow between her thighs. “What’s going on between you and Danny Diaz?”
    “Nothing…”
    “C’mon,” she prods.
    “Nothing…I mean it.”
    “Then take truth,” she