Текст книги "Dare You To"
Автор книги: Katie McGarry
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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 25 страниц)
Ryan
UNLACING MY CLEATS, I STARE at the bleachers.
Mark is here and he’s talking to Beth. Actually, he’s laughing with Beth. Jealousy lurches inside me and I’m pissed at both of them. I’ve texted and called Mark for months and I got shit. Beth smiles once and he’s rattling like he’s on a talk show. And to top it all off, Mark’s talked to her for a whole twenty
minutes and Beth’s already laughing. It took me weeks to get her to laugh with me.
I slam my cleat against the bench to knock the dirt off. Mark is my brother, therefore he wouldn’t steal my girl. Not to mention that he likes men. Several of the guys glance at me when I hammer my cleat against the bench
again. Logan raises a brow. I shake my head to stop him from speaking to me.
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it up. Beth’s not really my girl. We’re just friends who date because I screwed everything up with her from the beginning.
“Ryan?” Coach waves me over to him. I
shove my feet into my Nikes and toss my bag over my shoulder. He probably has plenty to say to me. I pulled the game out, but I cost us two runs in the last inning. Mark and Beth’s friendly interaction distracted me.
“Yes, sir.”
Coach nods to a man in his thirties and a woman standing next to him. They’re dressed in Sunday casual—jeans and nice shirts. “I’d like you to meet Pete Carson and his wife, Vickie.”
I shake the extended hands—Mr. Carson
first, then his wife. “Nice to meet you.”
“Pete is a scout with the University of
Louisville.”
I glance at Coach and try to keep the
surprise off my face. He knows how Dad and I feel about playing pro ball after I graduate. Mr.
Carson clears his throat. “Ryan, I’ve been scouting for the early draft and your name is the one on everyone’s lips. I was wondering if you’ve given any thought to our school.”
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“No, sir. I plan on joining the pro draft after graduation.”
“That would be a waste.” The words rush
out of his wife’s mouth. The three of us look at her and she laughs nervously. “Sorry, but it’s the truth. I should introduce myself
appropriately—I’m Dr. Carson, dean of the English Department at Spalding University.”
“Uh-huh.” A very un-grammatically-correct response. Why do I feel cornered?
“Mrs. Rowe, your English teacher, is a good friend of mine. She’s shown me some of your writing. You’re very talented. Both on the field and off. Spalding University offers a wonderful course study in Creative Writing and many of our students go on to pursue their master’s in Fine Arts.…”
Mr. Carson puts his hand on his wife’s arm.
“You’re recruiting him. I thought I won the coin toss.”
“You weren’t talking fast enough.” She pats the hand he just placed on her. “Spalding has a baseball team too.”
I fake laugh because everyone else does, but my uneasiness builds. Standing here listening to them makes me feel like I’m betraying my HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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father.
Mr. Carson lets go of his wife. “Spalding is a Division Three school. The University of
Louisville is Division One. Several of our players went on to be drafted into the pros. You have talent that can’t be taught, but you’ve got some tells on your pitches and some issues with your placement. My coaches can work
with you and take your pitches to another level.
We’ll prepare you for the pros plus you’ll be walking away with a degree.”
“Are you offering me a scholarship?”
“Spalding will,” says Mrs. Carson. She
smiles unrepentantly when her husband
grimaces.
Mr. Carson exchanges a wary look with
Coach. “I need to know if you’re interested. I have room for a pitcher on my team and I’m looking to offer a scholarship to someone during the early signing period in November.”
November, which means if I want to go to
college, I have a little more than a month to decide. No pressure. Mr. and Mrs. Carson
describe college life while I pretend to listen.
What will Dad say if he finds out? They both hand me cards, to Mr. Carson’s dismay, and HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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say their goodbyes, leaving me and Coach
alone.
I wait for the Carsons to be out of earshot before I ask the question bugging me. “Have you been talking to Mrs. Rowe?”
“We talked last month. I think it’s in your best interests to explore all of your options.”
“You don’t think I can make pros?” This is the man who has encouraged me almost as
much as my dad.
“No,” he says slowly. “I believe you can, but I also know that your father isn’t presenting you with everything on the table. Your father’s a good man, but I consider you one of my own sons and I wouldn’t be helping you if I didn’t make that introduction.”
My world tips. Coach and Dad have always
seen eye-to-eye. Why the change? “I’m not doing the writing competition.”
“Ryan,” Coach says with an exasperated
sigh. “We’ll discuss this later. You have company.” His gaze wanders over my shoulder and dread settles in my gut.
Mark waits for me at the bottom of the
bleachers while Beth remains in her seat at the top. I make a sweep of the area to be sure no HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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one from town is around to see this reunion.
“Hey,” Mark says. “You played a hell of a game.”
I inhale deeply, attempting to find a center.
Mark left. Dad looked him straight in the eye and asked him to choose. My brother didn’t choose me. I asked him to stay and fight and he didn’t. I asked him to come home and he
didn’t. And now he thinks he can show up here and everything will be fine. Guess what? It’s not fine. “What are you doing here?”
Mark plays linebacker for the University of Kentucky. In his freshman year, he gained twenty-five pounds of muscle. He’s a big son-of-a-bitch. “I want to talk, Ry.”
“I think your silence since this summer said everything.” I walk past him and gesture for Beth to come off the bleachers.
“I wanted to contact you, but each time I tried I couldn’t. I kept thinking about Mom and Dad and I needed space.”
Space. Why didn’t he just knee me in the
groin? I throw out my arms. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Mark says loud enough for the few remaining spectators HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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to hear.
“Yeah.” I keep walking. “It does.”
In lethargic steady strides, Beth’s feet plunk against the metal of the bleachers as she wanders down. “What are you doing?”
“We need to go. You need an hour,
remember? And then we’re going out to
dinner.”
“We have time. Go talk to your brother.”
“It’s fine, Beth.” Mark responds for me in a tone that indicates an apology. “I’m glad I got a chance to meet you. Don’t let Groveton
smother you to death.”
She gives him one of her rare genuine smiles and I want to hit something—hard. “Good luck with your game next week.”
Mark shoves his hands into his jeans as he leaves. “You know where to find me when
you’re ready, Ry.”
Beth watches him until he’s out of sight.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“You wouldn’t understand.” I stalk off to the parking lot and toss my stuff into the Jeep.
Beth slams her passenger door shut and I
answer her anger by slamming my own. “Tell me where I’m supposed to be taking you.”
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“The strip mall a half mile before your
pitching facility.”
My head jerks. That place is a step above ghetto. “I’m not leaving you there.”
“I didn’t ask for your approval. You made a deal with me. It’s your decision if you want to keep it.” Her frozen blue eyes pierce into me.
I yank hard on the bill of my hat and peel out onto the main road. She’s angry. I’m angry.
We stay silent as I drive the thirty minutes to the other side of town. There’s enough
electricity in the air to propel the car without gas. One word from either of us could cause an explosion.
Beth obviously likes playing with fire. “Is your brother one of those guys that can be awesome to strangers, then turn into a
complete dick in private? Did he piss in your Cheerios every morning before you went to school?”
“No,” I grit out. “He was a great brother.”
“Then what is wrong with you? He said you guys haven’t talked in three months and that he was here to see you. What’s so damned
important that you couldn’t take three seconds out of your day to say hi?”
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I turn on the radio. She turns it off. I
pound my hand against the wheel. “I thought you were in a hurry for your one hour of
freedom in Louisville.”
“Waiting fifteen minutes so you can talk to your brother isn’t going to ruin my one hour.
Let’s try this again. What’s going on?”
“He’s gay.”
Beth blinks. “You already told me that.
Catch me up on the you being an asshole part.”
I am not an asshole. The whole reason for this day was for her to see that I’m not an asshole. “He left, okay? He left and he’s made it clear he’s not coming back.”
She angles her body toward me. “Tell me
that’s a self-imposed decision Mark made.”
Beth doesn’t tell me squat about her family, yet she expects perfection from mine. “My dad threw him out and Mark didn’t even try to see what would happen if he attempted to stay. Are you happy now?”
“No. So your dad’s a homophobic bastard.
What’s your excuse?”
The anger bursts out of me. “What did you expect me to do? Go against my dad? He told me and Mom that we weren’t allowed to talk to HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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him anymore. He’s my dad, Beth. What
would you have done?”
I don’t bother telling her that I tried reaching out to him or that Mark didn’t respond to me…until now. Now when it’s too late.
“Grown a pair of balls, that’s what I would have done. God, Ryan, you are an asshole. Your brother is gay and you toss him out of your life because you’re too much of a pansy to stand up to your father.”
I pull into the strip mall and park in the back of the lot. This place is a shithole. Down by the Laundromat, a guy in a wife-beater screams at a girl with bleached-blond hair holding a diaper-clad baby on her hip. Guys my age
smoke cigarettes while purposely
skateboarding into girls coming in and out of the stores. Someone needs to teach them
respect.
Beth hops out of the Jeep. Her hair blows in the breeze behind her as she strides toward the shopping center. Why is this girl always
walking away from me? I jump out after her, catch her hand, and turn her to face me. I thought I pissed Beth off by nominating her to homecoming court. The fire blazing out of her HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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eyes tells me this anger is on a completely different level. She needs to hear me out and understand my dad—to understand my family.
“Mark abandoned us.”
“Bullshit. You abandoned him.” She rams a finger into my chest. “You and me. We’re a mistake. You’re a leaver. My father left me, Saint Scott left me, and I will never be left again.”
Yet Beth is the one who leaves. She retreats to the shopping plaza and disappears into the grocery store. She told me on the way into Louisville to drop her off and come back for her later. I never intended to let Beth walk away, but her words rock me. Is she right? Did I abandon Mark?
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Beth
I CUT IN THE SUPERMARKET, duck back out, and beeline it for the Last Stop, avoiding the group of skateboarders. I’m careful, guarding Echo’s money that burns the back pocket of my jeans.
More pickpockets hang here than people with high school diplomas.
Denny slaps his hand on the counter when I step into the bar. “Get out, kid.”
Pool balls click against each other as a guy in jeans and a leather vest plays solo. Two older men in blue factory uniforms slouch over beers at the bar. My heart drains of any shred of hope I had gained in Groveton when I see the blond-haired mess at the table in the corner.
Holding myself proud, I glide to the bar.
“Whatever Isaiah is paying you, I’ll pay you double to keep your mouth shut.”
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he gave me concerning you. Go play with
your boyfriend and stay out of my bar.”
“Isaiah isn’t my boyfriend.”
Wearing a smart-ass smile, Denny grabs a
wet shot glass out of a tub and dries it with a towel. “Have you told him that?”
When I say nothing back, Denny gestures to Mom. “She’s been crying today. Trent was
arrested by the cops last night for drunk driving and they impounded her car. Get her out and spend some time with her.”
Yay and damn. Without Isaiah on board, I
need a car and Mom’s piece of crap is our only way out of Louisville. On the rare good side, I don’t have to worry about Trent beating the shit out of either one of us today.
“Next time you come into my bar, I’m
calling Isaiah to drag you back out,” Denny says. “Even if she’s crying.”
Next to a half-empty bottle of tequila,
Mom’s head lies in her folded arms. She’s thinner. The rush of emotions creates a light-headed sensation. This poor, pathetic creature is my mom and I’ve completely failed her.
“Let’s go, Mom.”
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face. Several of the strands fall to the floor and stick to my hand. God, has she eaten at all?
Yellow-and-brown patches litter the left side of her face. On her right wrist, Mom wears a black brace. I nudge her with a tender touch.
“Mom, it’s Elisabeth.”
Her eyelids flutter open and her hollow blue eyes have a sunken quality. “Baby?”
“It’s me. Let’s go home.”
Mom reaches out as if I’m a ghost. Her
fingertips barely brush my leg before her arm drops to her side. “Are you a dream?”
“When was the last time you ate?”
With her head still on her arms, she surveys me. “You used to buy food for me and make it, didn’t you? Ham and cheese on white with
mustard tucked in the fridge. That was you.”
My insides wither like a plant without water.
Who did she think took care of her? I close my eyes and search for my perspective. Being at Scott’s has made me soft. I need to be more aware for both me and Mom. “Let’s go.”
I place an arm around her shoulder blades and yank at her body. “Come on. You need to stand. I can’t drag you home.”
“I hate it when you yell, Elisabeth.”
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“I didn’t yell.” But I’m being a bitch.
Like most toddlers, Mom obeys a strong
reprimand. Also like most toddlers, she often obeys the wrong person.
“Yes, you did,” she mutters. “You’re always angry.”
Even with me holding her up, she still sways from side to side. The door to the back room is shut. Hell. This means we’ll have to go out the front. Baby steps are a struggle for her and I calculate how long it will take me to get her home at this rate. So many things to do before I meet Ryan—grocery shop, figure out how to get the car out of impoundment, and nail down the date to leave.
Mom stumbles when we meet daylight. She
tries to shield her eyes, but it affects her already fragile balance and I have to use both of my hands to keep her upright. She’s right. I am always angry, because right now a volcano is stewing inside of me. “What else are you taking?”
“Nothing,” she says too quickly.
Right. Nothing. “That bottle of tequila
wasn’t empty. Are you becoming a
lightweight?”
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She says nothing and I let it go,
reminding myself that there are things better left unknown. I drag her forward and
occasionally she lifts her feet to help with the progression on the sidewalk. Several guys I used to go to school with fly past on
skateboards. Two whistle at me and ask if I’m back to stay. The other…
He flips up his skateboard and takes a ten-dollar bill from his pocket. “Run out of money again, Sky? I’ll take a blow right now.”
Shame heats my face, but I force myself to stand taller as I haul my mother toward her home. “Fuck you.”
“I’ve missed seeing you around, Beth, but your mom’s more fun without you
babysitting.” He drops the board and rolls away. Yes, being at Scott’s has softened me and it makes this experience a million times worse.
I wish Scott would have left me alone.
“We’ll move to Florida.” We slowly pass the pawnshop. “White sandy beaches. Warm air.
The sound of water lapping against the shore.”
My mom’s not a whore. She’s not. Please God, please let her not be. “We’ll sober you up and we’ll get jobs.…” Doing? “Something.”
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Because Scott has custody of me we’ll have to be careful. I’ll be labeled a runaway. “We’ll go to the ocean. Give me a date and we’ll leave.”
“I have to bail Trent out first,” Mom
whispers. “Then unpound the car.”
“Fuck Trent. Let him rot in jail.”
“I can’t.” Mom pulls on my hair to stay
upright and the pain makes me want to scream.
Instead, I bite my lip. Screaming will draw more attention to us.
We reach the end of the sidewalk. Mom falls forward when she misses the step, and
collapses onto the pavement. “Come on,
Mom!” I want nothing more than to sit on the ground and cry, but I can’t. Not with people watching. Not with Mom right here. “Get up!”
“I’ve got her.” The deep, smooth voice
causes my heart to still and my lungs to freeze.
Isaiah effortlessly scoops my mother into his arms. Without waiting for me, he heads right for Mom’s apartment building.
Isaiah.
I blink.
My best friend.
My heart beats twice and both beats hurt.
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Mom slips in and out of coherence as
Isaiah carries her. When we reach her door, I slide the string of keys I used to wear as a necklace in elementary school from around Mom’s neck.
I briefly catch Isaiah’s gaze and I cower from the pain in his eyes. He wears his uniform shirt for the garage he works at. Grease and oil stain the blue material. Every day for three weeks, Isaiah has texted and called and I haven’t answered him. I bury the guilt. He’s the one that betrayed me and there’s nothing I can do about not responding to him now.
A horrible rancid odor slaps me when I open the door. I’m dizzy with dread. I don’t want to know. I just don’t. We’re going to Florida.
We’re running away.
Isaiah follows me in and swears. At the
smell, the damage, or the trash, I don’t know.
Nothing has changed from the last time I was here, except the refrigerator door hangs wide open.
“Did you forget to pay the cleaning lady?”
Isaiah asks.
I half smile at his attempt to defuse the situation. He knows I hate for anyone else to HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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see how Mom lives. “She only accepted
cash and Mom was insistent that we use the credit cards for the frequent flyer miles.”
I step over trash and broken pieces of
furniture and lead Isaiah to Mom’s bedroom.
He gently lays her on the bed. This isn’t the first time he’s helped me with Mom. When we were fourteen, Isaiah helped me pick her up from the bar. He’s used to the cracks in the wall, the worn green carpeting, and the picture of me and her taped over her broken mirror.
“Give me a few minutes,” I say. “Then I’ll go grocery shopping.”
He gruffly nods. “I’ll wait in the living room.”
I remove Mom’s shoes from her feet and sit on the bed next to her. “Wake up, Mom. Tell me what happened to your hand.” As if I don’t already know.
Her eyes barely open and she curls into the fetal position. “Trent and I had a fight. He didn’t mean it.”
He never does. “The faster we get away
from him the better.”
“He loves me.”
“No. He doesn’t.”
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“Yes, he does. You two just don’t know
each other real well.”
“I know enough.” I know he wears a ring
that hurt like hell when he punched me in the face. “You’re leaving with me, right? Because if not, I can’t take care of you.”
I want her to say yes and say it quickly. The pause feels like someone ripping my intestines through my belly button. Finally, she speaks.
“You don’t understand. You’re a gypsy.”
And she’s high. “Are you going to leave
with me?”
“Yeah, baby,” she mumbles. “I’ll go with
you.”
“How much do we need to get the car out of impoundment?”
“I need five hundred to get Trent out of jail.”
Trent can die in jail. “The car. How much to get the car out? I can’t find regular rides into Louisville and I can’t take care of you if we don’t leave town.”
She shrugs. “Couple hundred.”
Mom begins to sing an old song Grandpa
used to sing before he drank himself to sleep. I rub my forehead. We need that damn car and I need a damn plan. Mom and I should have
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been gone weeks ago, but Isaiah ruined
that. My windows of opportunity keep closing and I’m not sure how much longer Mom will last on her own.
I pull out Echo’s cash and place half of it on Mom’s bedside table. She stops singing and stares at the cash.
“Listen to me, Mom. You need to sober up
and get the car out of the impound lot. I also want you to pay the phone bill. We’ll be
leaving soon. Do you understand?”
Mom keeps her eyes on the money. “Did
Scott give you that?”
“Mom!” I yell and she flinches. “Repeat
what you need to do.”
Mom produces an old stuffed animal of
mine from under her pillow. “I sleep with this when I miss you.”
I slept with that stuffed animal every night until I turned thirteen. It’s the only thing my father ever gave to me. The fact that she kept it rips me into pieces. I can’t focus on that now. I need Mom to remember what she needs to do.
Her life depends on it. “Repeat what I said.”
“Get the car. Pay the phone bill.”
I stand and Mom grabs my hand. “Don’t
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leave me alone again. I don’t want to be
alone.”
The request feeds on my guilt. We all have our fears. Those things that exist in the dark corners of our mind that terrify us beyond belief. This is hers. My fear? It’s leaving her. “I need to buy you food. I’ll make some
sandwiches and put them in the fridge.”
“Stay,” she says. “Stay until I fall asleep.”
How many nights as a child did I beg her to stay with me? I lie on the bed next to her, run my fingers through her hair, and continue the song where she left off. It’s her favorite verse.
One that talks about birds, freedom, and
change.
I SLICE THE LAST sandwich in half and place the full plate in the fridge, along with the remains of the ham and cheese Isaiah bought while I sang Mom to sleep. Isaiah busies
himself by putting the boxes of cereal and crackers in the pantry. He bought food Mom can easily fix for herself.
“Haven’t you punished me long enough?”
Isaiah asks.
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over your shoulder and force me to leave
again?”
“No,” he says. “Everyone knows Trent’s in jail. The worst thing that’s going to happen to you here…” He glances over at the closed door of my old bedroom. “Maybe I should toss you over my shoulder again. This place is no good for you, Beth.”
“I know.” And that is exactly why I want to leave…with my mom. A small part of me is
curious as to what Isaiah knows that I don’t. I could open the door to my old room and find out, but I shake away the thought. I don’t want to know. I really, really don’t.
“You should go back to work,” I say. He
changed from his work clothes to his favorite black T-shirt and jeans, which means he
intends to stick around. I don’t want to be responsible for him losing a job he loves. The garage he works for is across the street from the strip mall, which explains why he reached me so quickly.
“I got off an hour ago. I stuck around to bullshit and to tinker with a newer Mustang someone brought in. She’s real pretty. I think even you would like her.”
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I’ve missed this. Isaiah telling me about his day and his excited tone when he talks about cars. With his gray eyes, Isaiah looks me over. I’ve missed him. His voice. The tattoos covering his arms. His constant, steady
presence. The last is what I miss the most.
Isaiah is that one relationship I’ve never had to question. The one relationship where I don’t wonder if it’ll change when I wake in the morning.
I take the two steps and wrap my arms
around his chest. One arm at a time, Isaiah embraces me. I love the sound of his heart. So steady. So strong. For a brief few seconds, the chains lift. “I’ve missed you,” I say.
“I’ve missed you too.” Isaiah rests his head against the top of mine. One hand reaches up and cups the back of my head. His fingers graze my cheek and my spine straightens.
We’ve touched many times over the past four years. All those times we touched we were high. Since my arrest, Isaiah has touched me way too much sober.
One night last year, we pushed too far when we were high. Sort of like me and Ryan.
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never happened. If it weren’t for Ryan, I probably would have forced amnesia on our night together in the barn.
And then I remember…Isaiah told me that
he loved me.
“When we graduate, Beth, I promise I’ll take you away from here.”
“Okay,” I say, knowing I’ll be long gone
before graduation. I slip out of his grasp and wonder if I misunderstood Isaiah. Maybe he didn’t tell me he loved me. Maybe he did and once again we’re ignoring things. “Denny call you again?”
“Yeah, and he’ll keep calling me. Do all of us a favor and just call me first. If you have to see your mom, let me be by your side when you do it. I’ll kill Trent if he touches you again and I’d rather not go to jail.”
“Sure.” Even though I won’t call. The next time I come into Louisville, it’ll be to collect Mom and leave town for good.
“Rico’s throwing a party tonight,” Isaiah continues. “Noah’s going to be there. I promise the two of us will have you back at your
uncle’s before you can be missed.”
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hit Noah. “Is he mad at me?”
Isaiah shakes his head. “Mad at himself.
Same way I am. We should have approached
everything different with you, but we arrived right after Trent. Noah and I were terrified Trent was going to hurt you again.”
I pull out my cell and check the time. I have five minutes to get back to Ryan. Running a hand through my hair, I consider my options. I want to see Noah and I want to spend time with Isaiah. I’d like to push Ryan in front of a bus for what he did to his brother. My heart trips over itself. What I really crave is for Ryan to give me his gorgeous smile and tell me he made a terrible mistake.
What is wrong with me?
I bite my bottom lip and face Isaiah. “I need to talk to Ryan first.”
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