Dare You To (Pushing the Limits, #2)(125)

“Your dad was young. He didn’t know what he wanted. It had      nothing to do with you.”

True. Dad was seventeen when I was born. Mom was fifteen.      Dad knew he wanted her. He took her and made me. But Scott is missing the point.      “He told me that himself because I, uh...made a mistake.” I am a mistake.

Scott stares at me with those blue eyes that are much      gentler than Dad’s and much more full of life than Mom’s. I don’t want anger and      bitterness in my eyes.

“When I was in third grade, a guy came to the trailer and at      first everything was fine, but then he and Dad began to argue. The guy reached      to the back of his jeans and he pulled out a gun.” A shiver runs through my      body. My eyes dart in front of me. I see my backpack, the floorboard, the stereo      in the car, but my body reacts like I’m back in the trailer.

“He pointed it at Dad and when Dad laughed he pointed the      gun at me. It was so close.” Very close. Close enough I could feel the metal on      my forehead. Mom screamed and warm urine streamed down my legs onto the      floor.

“Elisabeth,” Scott softly urges.

“They argued some more and he cocked the trigger.” It made a      frightening sound—click, clitch. I rub the goose bumps forming on my arms. I      knew I was going to die and I remember praying to God that it wouldn’t hurt. Mom      screamed and screamed and screamed. “Dad threw a sack of money at him. He      uncocked the gun and lowered it.” I ran. Past Mom, who collapsed on the floor      crying. Past Dad, cursing the man out. Past the bathroom and into Mom and Dad’s      bedroom. “I hid under the bed and I called the police.”

Scott shakes his head as he stares out the windshield to the      entrance of my school. “How much heroin was in the house?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “Mom found me on the phone and      she realized what I had done. Dad was still trying to flush the heroin down the      toilet when Lacy’s dad placed the handcuffs on his wrist.” They cuffed Mom too      and she cried so hard that her body shook. While they searched the house, Mom      and Dad were on their knees in the living room.

“Elisabeth.” It’s a plea, but I’m not sure what he expects      from me.

“Elisabeth is dead, Scott. Please stop calling me that.” I      remember my father’s glare as Lacy’s dad walked me past them. I died to him in      that moment. “Mom was put on probation. Dad served six months. After he got out,      he drove into Louisville to see me. He got down on his knees, looked me in the      eye, and told me I was the worst thing that ever happened to him.” He stood.      Faced my mother and asked if she was coming with him. Mom decided to stay with      me. “And he left.”

And Mom didn’t leave, because she chose me. Even though she      loved my father, she stayed. I owe her.

Scott turns the car back on. “I’m taking you home.”

“No!” I need to get an A in science. I need to see Ryan, go      to his game, and know I’m making the right decision. I have a life here in      Groveton and I need to be okay with letting my mom go. “I have a test today,      then Ryan’s game after school. Let me do this.”

“If it’s what you want, fine. But we’re talking about this      when you get home.”

Home. I have no idea what that word really means.

*

The bell rings as I slip into the building and I weave      through the hallway filled with students. My own skin feels strange on my body.      Almost like it’s too tight and needs to be shed. For years I focused on skipping      class and today I fought to go to school. What is wrong with me?

A girl runs into my shoulder and laughs the moment she sees      who she’s collided with.

“It’s her,” her friend loudly whispers.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. It’s me. What      does that mean? I continue down the hallway and a group of guys stop talking and      watch as I walk past. I clutch the science book as a shield. I didn’t even      garner this much attention on my first day.

Screw them. I want to find Ryan and go to science. He won      the writing competition and he has his last game this afternoon. I haven’t even      properly congratulated him. I round the corner and stop the moment I spot a      crowd of people near my locker.

An underclassman nods her head in my direction. “She’s      here.”