Dare You To (Pushing the Limits, #2)(116)

“Very funny.”

From the other side of the island, Allison studies me, but      not with nearly as much contempt as normal. She looks like she’s on the verge of      saying something, then focuses on the newspaper in front of her.

Scott’s cell rings. He reaches into his back pocket and      holds the phone against his shoulder to answer as he flips the hash browns in      the pan. “Hello.”

His face darkens and he pushes the pan onto an unlit burner      before switching off the stove. He turns and his troubled blue eyes find me. My      hope slithers away.

“We’ll be right there,” he says.





Chapter 59

Ryan

THERE’S A LOW BUZZ of      conversation as the auditorium fills. Today’s been both exhilarating and      torturous. I’ve met college professors who gave me incredible feedback on      “George and Olivia.” I listened to lectures on writing, learned new techniques,      and I’ve spent the whole day sweating this upcoming moment.

I’d take a cold rainy day on the mound over this—wearing my      Sunday best while waiting to hear whether or not my story is good enough.

I hunch forward in the folding auditorium chair with my hands      clasped together. My feet won’t quit moving. The only things keeping me halfway      sane are my memories of last night. The moment I get out of here, I’m buying two      dozen roses and I’m heading straight to Beth. I want to show her I’m nothing      like the bastard who broke up with her the next day. I’m the guy that will be      around forever.

Mrs. Rowe yanks the placeholder off the seat next to me and      plops down. “Are you nervous?”

I glance at her in response and rub my hands together. It’s      scary how much I want this. It’s even more terrifying to think what happens if I      do win. If I lose, then I know my path: pro baseball. If I win...it opens up      possibilities. Possibilities that I’m good at more than just ball, that I’m good      at writing too. Then I’ll have choices to make.

“It’s too bad your parents couldn’t be here for this,” she      says. “I bet it’s killing them to be away.”

“Yeah.” Possibly killing them to be near each other. My hopes      aren’t high that a week’s vacation will fix the issues between them. Divorce      isn’t an option on the table, especially since Dad’s considering the run for      mayor. Maybe I should be grateful, but I’m not sure how much more frozen silence      I can take.

“I’m sure they’re proud of you,” she continues.

“Sure.” Even though they have no idea I’m here.

Through the squeal of feedback, a woman in a black business      suit asks the audience for silence. As she thanks us for our entries, Mrs. Rowe      leans over to me. “Regardless of what the results are, Ryan, it was a huge honor      to final.”

I nod, but what she doesn’t understand is that I don’t like      losing.

“...so, with that, we are ready to announce the winners.”

I inhale deeply to calm the nerves. Fifty of us made it to the      last round. All of us entered the final, only three spots left for a win and, to      be honest, I’m only interested in first.

“The third place winner is Lauren Lawrence.”

The crowd applauds and I lean back in my seat, antsier than I      was before. The girl walks unbelievably slowly and it takes even longer for the      people onstage to hand her the award.

The announcer clears her throat before beginning again. “The      second place winner is...”

Part of me craves to hear my name and the other part doesn’t.      First is the best. First is what I desire, but for the first time in my life, I      think I could be happy with second.

“...Tonya Miles.”

Everyone applauds again. At least this girl is faster. I hunch      forward again, wondering what a loss like this would feel like. I could have      been happy with second. Possibly third. And, I finally realize, I don’t want the      easy path...I want the choice. I want to possibly go to college.

Or not. I don’t know. But I do know that I want this win.

“...and our first place winner is...” She pauses for dramatic      effect. I lower my head as my gut tightens. What if I’m not good enough?

“Ryan Stone.”

Adrenaline rushes through my veins as I lift my head to stare      at the stage. The crowd claps and Mrs. Rowe gestures for me to go onstage,      saying words I don’t understand. I stagger forward, wondering if I heard it      right. Is this happening? Did I really win?