Текст книги "Dare You To"
Автор книги: Katie McGarry
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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 25 страниц)
Beth
I KNEW THIS MATERIAL LAST WEEK. I know I
did. I studied every night and Scott quizzed me most mornings. But I’m drawing blanks. The words jumble as I read them, which means my paper’s blank. The bell rings. “Please bring your tests to me,” says Mrs. Hayes.
The hand clutching my pencil sweats. I’ve written my name. That’s it. My head falls forward. I failed. Again. This is who I was meant to be.
“Beth,” says Mrs. Hayes. She walks back to my seat after everyone else turns in their tests and leaves. “Are you okay?”
“No.” I’m a whore and I’m stupid. I snatch my backpack and leave the blank test on my desk. “I am not okay.”
I burst out of class. Groveton is a mistake.
I’m a mistake. Ryan lied to me. He used me. I HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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was a dare. I’m nothing more than a stupid whore who makes mistake after mistake after mistake. Just like my mom.
People laugh as I pass. They’re judging me and their judgment is spot-on. I don’t belong here. I never have. I can’t go to lunch and I can’t handle the thought of gym. I don’t want to listen to Ryan lie so he can make himself feel better, to Gwen’s laughter because I’m the trash she wants me to be, or to Lacy’s pleas to talk to her.
Ryan rounds the corner and I duck into the hallway where I saw Isaiah on my first day of school. God, I’ve fucked everything up. I lost my best friend because I fell in love with a stupid jock who doesn’t love me back. My
fingers tunnel into my hair and I pull hard to cause pain. Stupid, stupid, stupid me.
Why couldn’t I do one thing right in my
life? If I’d left with my mother weeks ago, none of this would have ever happened.
I stop breathing. I can still go. I packed my remaining money and a change of clothes in my bag last week. The backpack weighs me
down. The books I can ditch in my locker. The other items that I kept as reminders can also be HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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left, but not here. I know exactly where I can unload them on my way out of town.
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Ryan
SMACK. THE BALL COLLIDES with my glove.
Bottom of the sixth and the game is tied. I wiggle the fingers of my throwing hand to keep them from becoming stiff from the cold.
Late October and it’s the coldest day of the year. Cold-weather games bring strange
sensations. The wind burns my cheeks and
fingers, but sweat forms from the heat trapped beneath the mock turtleneck of my uniform.
“Let’s go, Ryan!” Dad calls from the stands.
Playing the perfect wife and mother, Mom sits right beside him with a fleece blanket covering her legs. My eyes scan the bleachers again.
Beth’s not here and she won’t be showing.
A high-pitched whistle originates from home plate. The new batter is taking his time for the third pitch in what I assume is an attempt to freeze me out. Logan steps to the left of the HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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batter’s box and motions for me to throw.
He wants me to keep moving so my muscles
will stay warm. I’m distracted and have
pitched the shittiest game of my life. My arm winds back, releases, and I curse when the ball flies two feet to the left of Logan’s glove.
Logan pulls the catcher’s mask to the top of his head and walks toward the mound.
“We’ll find her,” Chris says as he
approaches me from the right. “Lacy’s already looking for her and after the game me, you, and Logan will do whatever we have to do to get her to listen.”
Beth skipped class. I should have gone after her then, but Coach would have kept me from playing. “I can’t focus.”
“Yeah, you can,” says Chris. “You have ice water in your veins when you pitch. Go to that place and you’ll be fine.”
How do I explain that I never had ice water in my veins when I pitch? That there is a constant burning pressure that threatens to destroy my pitch even when I’m not distracted.
“Your pitch,” Logan starts when he reaches the mound, “is everywhere. Rein it in and you’ll get to her faster.”
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He’s right. I will. Chris swears under his breath and I follow his troubled gaze to the first baseline fence. Lacy stands on the
opposite side with Beth’s pack dangling from her shoulder.
Logan gets in my face. “One pitch. One
more pitch.”
“We’ve got another inning,” Chris protests.
Logan throws him a glare. “One pitch.”
They return to their spots and the batter digs his cleats into the dirt. This one’s for Beth.
Logan flashes two peace signs in a row. I nod, glance over my left shoulder, and spot a
shadow of movement. Crossing my right arm over my left, I throw the ball to the first baseman, and hear the sweet word come out of the ump’s mouth: “Out!”
The crowd cheers and I run off the field, into the dugout, and out to the other side. Lacy’s eyes are wide with panic and she extends
Beth’s backpack to me. “I don’t know what it means.”
I tear the pack open as Lacy continues to talk. “I drove by her house, but no one was there. Then I drove around town and came up with nothing. So I went home, hoping that HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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maybe she dropped by or called the
landline, and I found this.”
The pressure that always threatens me
explodes and I toss the pack to the ground. My hand clutches the bottle of rainwater with the ribbons tied to it. I suck in a breath before unfolding the note tucked into the ribbons: I thought I could, but I can’t.
Dammit. Her mom. She’s gone after her
mom and Beth has had enough time to find a way into Louisville by now. I race back into the dugout and grab my bat bag.
“Ryan?” Coach calls from the other end of the dugout.
“I’m sorry. I’ve got an emergency. Put Will in for me.”
I slip the bottle of water into my bag and toss it over my shoulder. Chris wraps a solid hand around my arm. “Where are you going?
We have one more inning and the game is tied.
Will can’t hold these batters like you can.”
“Beth’s running away. If I don’t stop her, I’ll lose her.”
Chris tightens his grip. “You promised me you’d never walk from another game.”
The ice water Chris prayed for finally enters HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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my veins. “Let me go before I physically
remove your hand from my arm.”
“You’re choosing her over us?”
Logan angles himself between me and Chris.
“Let him go, Chris. He’d never dog you if you chose Lacy over a game.”
“That’s different,” yells Chris. “I love Lacy.”
“Take a look at him.” Logan gestures to me.
“He’s in love with Beth. You and Lacy don’t own the emotion.”
Chris eyes me and I see the war inside him.
He yanks the hat off his head and turns from me. I’m letting him down, but I let Beth down first. Logan nods at me and I give him a quick nod of thanks back.
The crowd buzzes with conversation as I
exit the dugout. I keep my head down and
ignore how people stare and even the
occasional shout. The perfect Stone is doing a very imperfect thing and I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks about it. I hear loud
thumping footfalls striking the metal bleachers.
If I’m lucky, I can hightail it to my Jeep before Dad reaches the parking lot.
Like the rest of today, I’m not lucky.
“Ryan!”
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I don’t have time for this. I open the
Jeep’s door and toss my bag in the back. Dad grabs hold of the door. “What are you doing?
You have another inning to play and the game is tied.”
“Beth’s in trouble and I’m going after her.”
“No, you’re not. You’re going to finish that game.” Dad’s face reddens and he places his hand on his hips. In twenty-five years, I’ll be his clone if I continue on my current path. My entire life I desired nothing more than to be him. It’s funny how life changes.
“If I don’t go after her, she’ll be gone.”
“Let her go. She needs to be gone. Since she entered your life you’ve lost focus on
everything that’s important. You’re letting down your team, Ryan. You are single-handedly destroying your career in baseball.
Everything I’ve worked so hard for!”
A strange mixture of ice and heat fights
through my veins as I go toe-to-toe with my father. “You haven’t worked hard for it! I have.
This is my life. Not yours. If I want to play baseball, I’ll play. If I want to go to college, I’ll go to college. If I want to talk to my brother, I will. If I want to go after Beth, I am. You are HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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not making my decisions anymore.”
Spit flies out of his mouth as he yells at me,
“You’re going to destroy your life over a drug-using waste of life?”
Power surges through me and my fist
connects with his face. Adrenaline shakes my body and I watch as my father stumbles back.
“Don’t you ever call her that again.”
I jump into the Jeep, turn on the engine, and push the accelerator. I don’t lose and I’m not losing her.
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Beth
I RUB MY HANDS TOGETHER and blow into them for possibly the thirtieth time. Hiding in the alleyway behind the bar, I stare at Mom’s apartment. Trent entered right after I arrived and he’s been in there for three hours. I have no choice but to wait. He’ll kill me if he sees me again.
The door to the apartment opens and the
bald asshole finally stumbles out. Fucking fabulous. He’s tweaking, which means he’ll be in a kicking babies mood. I’ll take a heavy heroin user over a tweaker any day.
Resting his weight against his car door,
Trent fumbles his keys, drops them, and dips low to pick them back up. Yeah, asshole, you belong behind a wheel. I hope you drive into a wall and die.
His car doesn’t start immediately. The
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engine whines as he turns it over twice.
Come on. The third time the engine groans to life. The car trembles when he backs it out and eases onto the main road.
I dash across the parking lot and bang on Mom’s door as I try the knob. It doesn’t give, but I hear Mom undoing the chains on the
other side. She opens the door and wavers when she spots me. “Elisabeth.”
I push in. “Did you pack?”
“No,” she says. “I’m not sure we should do this.”
God, this guy is a slob. His clothes are
everywhere and so are the little empty packets that hold his meth. I grab a garbage bag and head into the bathroom. “What do you need?”
She follows me and rubs her bare arm. I
remember Dad doing that. It means she’s
craving a hit. Withdrawal with her is going to be a bitch.
“Trent took care of me after I came home
from the hospital. He says he’s sorry for how he treats me and he wants to start again.”
“Trent’s full of shit.” I pitch into the bag her toothbrush, hairbrush, then pause when I notice a small brown bag behind Mom’s tampons.
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“What’s this?”
“I don’t know.” Her hand moves up and
down her arm again. “Shirley put it in there when she brought me home.”
I snatch the bag. “I thought you said Trent took care of you when you came home.”
“I meant to say he came by here this
morning.”
Inside the brown bag are a roll of fifties and a prescription bottle of the drug needed to help Mom detox from heroin. Thank you, Shirley. I try not to think about what she sold or what she did for the money. It’s here and I need it and that’s good enough for the moment. I throw everything into the garbage bag and go into her bedroom. The pickings are slim in the clothing department and I toss the less stained and torn clothes into the bag.
“Elisabeth,” Mom says in a whine. “Maybe
we should put it off—by a day or two.”
“We are not putting it off by a day or two, we’re leaving. Where are the keys to the car?”
“I…don’t…know.” Which means she does
know.
I swing the bag full of stuff and knock her liquor bottles off the bedside table. Glass HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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shatters against the wall. “That’s what
Trent’s going to do to your head one of these days. We’re getting out of here!”
Frustrated, I stalk out of the room and
quickly glance toward the spare bedroom. The door is open for once and I freeze. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
I rest my head against the door frame—too dizzy with disappointment to stay upright on my own. On an old coffee table I found near a Dumpster a couple of years ago are several bags of white powder. Smaller baggies and balloons lay on the floor. I can barely whisper the words. “You’re selling heroin.”
Mom shoves me out of the way and shuts
the door. “No. Trent does. I used to let him keep it here overnight at times, but after the night you busted out his windows the police got nosy with him so he brought it here for good. It was the least I could do.”
My fingers open and close. “You busted out the windows of Trent’s car. I took the fall so they wouldn’t send you to prison.”
“Pretend you didn’t see it, Elisabeth. Trent will be mad you know. He thinks you ratted him out to the police.”
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“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I
shout in her face. “Do you not remember the outcome of our last heroin experience?”
Forming a gun with my fingers, I point it to my forehead. “He was going to kill me, Mom. I was eight years old! He pushed the gun against my head and cocked the damned trigger.”
Mom shakes her head too quickly and won’t stop. “No, he wouldn’t have. Your father said he was just trying to scare me and your dad.
Your father said you were safe the whole time.
He swore it.”
How can she lie to herself so easily? How can she continue to turn away from the truth again and again? Then Mom rubs her arm. I stumble back and hit the wall. God, I’m no different. All the signs of a heroin user were there, for weeks if not longer, and I ignored every single one.
But I’m not ignoring the truth, not anymore.
I go into the living room and start throwing crap off the kitchen counter to find her keys.
I’ll drag her out by her hair if I have to. The knob on the front door turns and my heart squeezes and drops. I’ve taken too long and Trent is going to kill me.
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Ryan
BETH BLINKS RAPIDLY WHEN I WALK IN.
Standing in a tiny kitchen, she holds a garbage bag. I’ve never been so relieved to see anyone in my life. Nor have I ever craved to shake someone so badly.
“Going somewhere?” I focus on remaining
calm. Beth doesn’t react well to threats or anger or anyone standing in the way of her doing anything.
Beth turns her back to me and throws papers and trash onto the floor. “Get out.”
“Fine with me. Let’s go. We’ve come into
Louisville twice for dinner and we have yet to have that date.”
Beth leaves the kitchen and rummages
through a card table. Her hands shake and her face is too pale against her black hair. “I’m not playing, Ryan. Mom and I are leaving today.
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That’s been the plan the entire time,
remember?”
“It was.” My eyes dart around the confined room trying to pinpoint the threat that has Beth terrified. Adrenaline pours into my
bloodstream, preparing me for the unseen
attack. “But you changed your mind on
Saturday.”
A woman enters the living room. Too thin.
Stringy blond hair. It’s the first time I’ve seen Beth’s mother up close. “Who are you?” she asks.
I force myself to look into her flat eyes.
They’re the same color as Beth’s, but without the shine. “I’m Beth’s boyfriend, Ryan.”
Her lips struggle into a weak smile. “You have a boyfriend, Elisabeth?”
Beth tosses an empty plastic two-liter onto the floor. “Ex-boyfriend. He fucked me and then he told his mommy and daddy he hated me. Where are the damned keys, Mom?”
My calm snaps. “I didn’t do that to you. If you’ll give me a chance I’ll explain about my parents.”
“Mom!” Beth screams and her mother
flinches. “Keys. Now!”
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“Okay,” she says and shuffles down the
hallway.
Beth whirls and her nostrils flare. “Get out, Ryan.”
“Not without you.”
Her fists curl and she smacks her leg with the words. “My. Mom. Is. An. Alcoholic. And a heroin addict. Her boyfriend’s favorite pastime is beating the shit out of me and if I’m not around he has no problem taking his
aggressions out on my mother. I have maybe minutes to get her out before he comes back and kills us all.”
An eerie calm courses through me. Nobody
hurts my girl. “He hits you?”
“Yes, Ryan. He hits me and kicks me and
slaps me. I’m his own personal violent video game. If I don’t get my mom out of here he’s going to kill her and if he doesn’t, then the heroin will.”
Every word Beth says is probably true, but I don’t care about her mother. Beth is my only concern. “What’s going to happen to you if I let you walk out this door with your mother?
Do you honestly think that getting in a car and driving to a different town is going to make HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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anything better?”
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Beth
“YES,” I AUTOMATICALLY ANSWER, but a voice in the back of my head screams no. “It has to.”
Looking out of place in his baseball
uniform, Ryan takes up almost the entire living room thanks to his large body. “You know
what I think?”
“I think you lied to me.” He did and I try desperately to hold on to that.
“I screwed up. I’m not perfect. I lied to my parents about us, but I’ve owned up to dating you. They know I love you.”
It’s the right words, but… “You’re too late.”
“Bullshit!” Anger blazes out of his eyes.
“For months I thought you were the most
courageous person I knew. You’ve never
apologized for being yourself, but standing here right now, I realize you’re a coward.
You’re so terrified of feeling anything that HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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you’d rather give up everything good in
Groveton in order to feel safe.”
My head jerks to the side and my eyes
narrow. “Safe? I’m standing here in a fucking drug den trying to save my mother from a
boyfriend who will be thrilled to kill me, then torture her. There is nothing safe about this.”
“This is your safe. You’d rather struggle in this life than live in Groveton.” He glances at the squalor of the apartment. “You feel in Groveton. In this life, you don’t have to feel a thing and that makes you a coward.”
I drop the bag in my hand and raise a shaky hand to my forehead. He’s wrong. He has to be. That’s not why I’m running. I need to save my mom because if I don’t, who will?
Ryan closes the gap between us. My heart
stutters when he places a hand on my waist. “I wish I could say that I’m the one that drove you away, but I’m not. I don’t have that power.
You’ve been running from the moment I met you and I’d bet you were running before that.
“You’re a lot like that bird in the barn.
You’re so scared you’re going to be caged in forever you can’t see the way out. You smack yourself against the wall again and again and HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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again. The door is open, Beth. Stop running in circles and walk out.”
His other hand brushes the hair from my
face and my lower lip begins to tremble. “If I leave her she’ll die.” My gut twists and my eyes burn.
He cups my face with his hands and I lean into his touch. Ryan can always do this—make me feel safe. He continues, “If you stay it’ll kill you. Maybe not physically, but you’ll die on the inside. If you don’t want me, I’ll give you your space, but you have built so much more in Groveton besides me. Give up on us if you need to, but don’t give up on you.”
The instinct is to flee. Instead, I grab on to his arms. Fear claws at me and I don’t like how naked it makes me feel. “I’m scared.”
Ryan lowers his forehead to mine. “So am I, but I’ll be less scared when we leave here.”
The front door opens. Bright sunlight blazes through the door and a gust of cold air
announces the entrance of the devil. Trent’s looming figure stalks into the living room.
Losing control of my body, I feel my hands drop to my sides as my heart jumps to my
throat. Ryan edges his body in front of mine.
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Trent slams the door behind him and
chuckles when he sees me. His eyes dart to the bag by my feet. “You should have stayed
away.”
Behind me, I hear the soft shuffles of my mother. “Elisabeth was just leaving.”
Urging me in the direction of the door, Ryan presses his hand into my back. My mind
screams run. My feet cement to the floor. It doesn’t matter if I move or not. Trent won’t let me walk out that door again.
“Let Ryan go.” I say it as a plea and Trent flashes a smile. It’s the first time I’ve asked anything of him and the bastard enjoys it.
Trent opens a box of cigarettes, puts one in his mouth, and lights it. He sucks in a long drag and blows out the smoke as he stares at me. I shiver as I watch the glowing ashes. The last time, Trent enjoyed listening to me scream when he burned holes in my arms. “Go ahead, boy. Get out. My problem isn’t with you.”
“Not without Beth.” Rage shakes Ryan’s
voice.
I love Ryan despite everything, and if it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t be here. Shoving my hands against his chest, I push him away.
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“Go!”
Ryan sizes Trent up and Trent does the same to him.
“Walk out the door, Beth,” says Ryan. “He’s not going to touch you.”
Trent laughs. Ryan is sturdy, strong, and young. Trent is larger, older, and a mean bastard. Last year, Isaiah and Noah took him on and the two survived because my uncle
threatened Trent with a gun. My uncle isn’t here and I’m not lucky enough to own a gun.
Ryan inches toward me and the door. His
eyes never leave Trent. “Let’s go.”
My pulse pounds in my ears. Maybe we can
walk out. “Mom?”
“Don’t you dare move, Sky,” Trent says.
I hold my hand out to her. “Come with us.”
Ryan yells my name as his arms fly out in front of me. Pain slices my head. The ground rushes toward my face. A combination of
darkness and light flickers from behind my closed lids. Noises blend into a high-pitched buzzing as warm liquid trickles from above my eyebrow to the bridge of my nose. I lick my lips and flinch at the salty taste of blood.
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open. The room shifts and spins. Forcing
my eyes to focus, I see the shattered remains of Mom’s table lamp on the floor next to me.
The buzzing fades and I turn my head to the sound of a struggle and grunts. Ryan shoves Trent into the front door by tackling him at the waist. Trent quickly responds by punching Ryan in the stomach.
Ceramic cuts into my hand as I crawl toward them. “Stop.” My voice comes out soft and hoarse. Ryan stumbles but is able to block a hit, then buys himself seconds by socking Trent in the jaw. I force pressure onto my legs so I can stand, but I fall.
Sitting in the fetal position on the other side of the room, Mom rocks back and forth on the floor. I swallow and force words out of my raw throat. “Help Ryan, Mom.”
“I can’t.”
“He’s going to kill us!”
Mom lowers her head to her knees and
continues to rock.
“Mom!” I scream. “Please!”
Mom hums loudly and my heart breaks
open. She’s never going to change. No matter what I do. No matter how I try. My mom will HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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always be this poor pathetic waste of life. I won’t be her. I can’t. I grab on to an overturned chair and force myself to my feet. Trent tackles Ryan and they both go crashing to the floor.
“Leave him alone!”
Trent rises to his knees, punches Ryan in the face and Ryan falls once more. Panic tears at me. He’s going to kill Ryan in front of me. The fucking bastard is going to take away
everything I love.
I launch myself at him and smack and hit
and claw. He bends my wrist and arm in a way not physically possible. Bones in my arm snap and pop. A scream tears through my body as pain blinds me.
He lets go and I fall to my knees in agony.
My scream becomes silent as Trent squeezes his fingers around my neck. I gag and try to suck in air. Nothing happens. Thoughts flash through my head at a frenzied pace. I need air.
He’s going to kill me. My hands go to the fingers crushing my throat, but I can’t pry them off.
He’s stronger than me and powerful and he’s going to win.
Trent jerks and his fingers loosen. Ryan
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holds Trent in a headlock as I collapse to the ground and draw air into my burning lungs.
My hands flutter near my neck and cover
where his fingers marked my skin.
“Baby!” Mom’s hand joins mine on my
throat. “Are you okay?”
Dazed, I nod.
Mom snatches my biceps and yanks in an
effort to get me off the floor. “Let’s go.”
Ryan curses and I unsuccessfully struggle to stand. “Help him, Mom.”
Ryan locks his other arm around Trent’s
neck and yells, “Go, Beth!” Trent battles against Ryan’s hold and Ryan’s face strains as he fights to keep his grip.
Mom shakes her head. “Let’s go. Now. He’ll hurt me.”
Trent elbows Ryan in the gut, swings around and lands a blow to Ryan’s face. Ryan falls.
“No!” Screams and pleas fly from my
mouth. Blood covers Ryan’s face. Trent stands and kicks Ryan in the stomach. I scream out in pain when I place weight on my left arm.
“Help him, Mom!”
“We have to go now, Elisssabeth.” Mom
calmly slurs my name. “I want to leave. I’ll go HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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with you now.”
I turn my head and stare at the eerie image of my mother. Her tired eyes with their
constricted pupils look at me as if I’m a shadow instead of her daughter. Mom squeezes my hand again. For the first time, she’s not rubbing her arm.
Cradling my left arm close to my body, I
grip the table and pull myself to my feet. “You shot up?”
As I stand, Mom drops to the ground. In
shame? In exhaustion? Too high? I don’t know.
Refusing to watch Ryan die, refusing to
make eye contact with me, Mom covers her
head with her arms and rocks over and over again.
Blood pours over my eye and my sight
wavers as my body sways to the side. My
fingers accidently hit Mom’s cordless phone near the edge of the table.
Heroin.
It destroyed me nine years ago and one
phone call cost me my father.
Heroin.
If I call, my mother will go to jail.
Heroin.
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My finger slides against the numbers and
like nine years ago I listen to the phone ring once, twice, a third time. The world turns black, then reappears in a fuzzy tunnel. My knees buckle and I force consciousness for a few more seconds.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
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