Dare You To (Pushing the Limits, #2)(31)

I scratch off the remaining paint. Yesterday Allison bought      me nail polish in the annoying shade of mauve. How can anyone look at me and      think mauve? “What did your dad tell you?”

Lacy’s pinkie taps the table repeatedly. “That he was called      to your home and that you later moved to another city.”

Surprised, I glance up to catch sincerity in her dark eyes.      “That’s it?”

“Everyone thinks Scott swooped in and saved you. Daddy and      the other guys that responded that night let that rumor stand.” Her forehead      crinkles. “It’s what happened, right? You’ve been living with Scott?”

I scratch my cheek, trying to hide whatever reaction she      might see. I could lie and tell her yes, but that would be like I’m embarrassed      about Mom. And I’m not embarrassed. I love her. I owe her. Yet there are      times...

“I cried for three months when you left,” Lacy continues.      “You were my best friend.”

I cried too. A lot. Thanks to me and my stupid decisions, I      cost my mom everything and I lost my best friend. Typical me—a hurricane that      leaves nothing but destruction. “Go sit with your friends, Lacy. I’m bad      news.”

“In this classroom, those two guys sitting over there are      the only real friends I have.” Lacy drums her fingers once more. “And you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Your life must suck then.”

She laughs. “Not really. It’s a good life.”

The teacher calls the class to order and I inch my seat away      from Lacy’s. An unseen, uncomfortable vise tightens my chest. Normal people      don’t like me. They don’t want to be my friend, and here is someone offering      friendship willingly.

As the teacher calls attendance, Ryan’s name is read and he      answers with a deep, soothing, “Here.”

Taking a chance, I peek in his direction and find him      staring at me again. No smile. No anger. No cockiness. Just a thoughtful      expression mixed with confusion. He scratches the back of his head and I’m drawn      to his biceps. My traitorous stomach flutters. God, the boy may be an ass, but      he sure is built.

And guys like him don’t go for girls like me. They only use me.

I force my eyes to the front of class, pull my knees to my      chest, and wrap my arms around them. Lacy invades my space and whispers to me,      “I’m glad you’re back, Beth.”

A sliver of hope sneaks past my walls and I slam every      opening shut. Emotion is evil. People who make me feel are worse. I take comfort      in the stone inside of me. If I don’t feel, I don’t hurt.





Chapter 17

Ryan

WAITING ON SUNDAY DINNER, I      can observe a lot from my seat on the couch in the living room of the mayor’s      house. For instance, the serious set of Dad’s mouth and the angle of his body      toward Mr. Crane suggests that Dad’s talking business. Serious business. Mom, on      the other hand, is laughter and giggles as she stands next to the mayor’s wife      and the pastor’s wife, but the way she fingers her pearls tells me she’s      anxious. That means someone asked a question about Mark.

Mom misses him. So do I.

The power of observation. It’s a skill I need to play ball. Is      the runner on base going to chance a steal? Is the batter going to hit the ball      out of the park or is he going to hit a sacrifice fly in order to score the      runner on third? Is Skater Girl the hard-nosed chick I believe her to be?

For the last two weeks, I’ve watched Beth roam the school.      She’s interesting. Nothing like the girls I know. She sits by herself at lunch      and eats a full meal. Not salad. Not an apple. A full meal. Like an entrée, two      sides, and a dessert. Even Lacy doesn’t do that.

Beth sits in the back of every class, except for Health/Gym,      where Lacy patiently makes small talk even though Beth stays quiet. Sometimes      Lacy can get Beth to crack a smile, but it’s rare. I like it when she      smiles.

Not that I care if she’s happy or anything.

What I find the most interesting is that even though she’s Ms.      Antisocial, she doesn’t avoid people. Yeah, plenty of kids hide in plain sight.      They duck into the library before school or during lunch. They evade eye contact      and walk in the shadows as if they can go to school and never be detected. Not      Beth. She stands her ground. Owns the space around her and smirks if someone      comes too close, as if she’s daring them to take her on. A smirk that dares      turns me on.