Dare You To (Pushing the Limits, #2)(61)

What is she talking about? If Lace only knew how broken my      family is; how since Mark left we’re slowing dying. “I’m not perfect.”

“Will you shut up?! God, I can’t get you guys to say crap half      the time and then anytime I try to actually SAY something worth saying, one of      you interrupts me. So shut up!”

I gesture with my hand for her to continue.

“No one liked me, Ryan. Daddy moved us to Groveton when I was      four and I knew then nobody liked me. My mom tried playdate after playdate and      put me in preschool and no matter what, I was considered the outsider. I’m not      you. I’m not Logan. I’m not Chris. I can’t trace my roots to the founding      fathers. I can’t eat Sunday chicken with my grandma after church because she      doesn’t live on the next property over, but three states away.”

I rub the back of my head, unsure if I should speak and if I      do, what to say. Lacy never seemed to care what people thought of her. “We never      treated you different.”

She sighs heavily. “Why do you think I’ve hung out with you      since sixth grade? Do you think I love baseball that much?”

I chuckle. “Don’t let Chris hear you say you aren’t a diehard      fan.”

“I love him,” she says, and I understand that means that she      also loves anything he loves. “Anyway, the whole point is, Beth liked me. When      Gwen was mean to me...”

My mouth opens to protest. She points at me and narrows her      eyes. “Don’t say a word. One, I told you to shut up. Two, this is my monologue      and not yours. Three, she’s a bitch. As I was saying, when Gwen played to her      true self and dropped the      I’m-pretending-to-be-perfect-so-the-whole-world-will-love-me act, she made my      life hell. I was labeled weird before I entered kindergarten, yet Beth liked      me.

“When Gwen made me cry, Beth held my hand and told me that she      loved me. When Gwen’s friends told me I couldn’t play on the swings, Beth pushed      them off and told me the swings were mine. Beth taught me what it meant to have      friends. I don’t know what the hell happened to her between third grade and now,      but I owe her. Here’s the thing—I love you and I love her, but I swear to God      I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her.”

Lacy has thrown out too much to process, so I focus on what I      know. “You’ll kick my ass?”

She cracks a smile. “Okay, maybe not, but I will be pissed off      and I don’t like being pissed off at you.”

I don’t like her being pissed off at me either. “She’s coming      with me to the party.”

Disappointment clouds her face. “Dare or date?”

“Dare.” I don’t lie to friends. “But Beth knows it.”

“If she knows, doesn’t that break the rules?”

I shrug. “We don’t have a rule book.”

The porch light flips on and the front door opens. Through the      pouring rain, I barely see Lacy’s mom. I wave at her. A second later, she waves      back.

“She thinks all Chris and I do is make out in cars.” Lacy’s      hand flutters away any further discussion about her and Chris making out in      cars, which is fine by me.

I’d rather think about Beth. Who is she? The girl Lacy swears      is a true friend? The girl with blond hair who loved ribbons and fancy dresses?      The girl who crawls underneath my skin and stays? The girl strong enough to tell      me what she really thinks of me? The girl who looks so small and defenseless at      times that I wonder if she can survive in the world on her own? Lacy may hate me      for these words, but they have to be said. “Maybe Beth isn’t who you think she      is.”

“Funny,” Lacy says. “I was about to say the same thing to      you.”





Chapter 34

Beth

RYAN SWITCHES GEARS      when the pavement ends and the Jeep’s wheels hit gravel. The wind whips my hair      into my face and neck, stinging me like the tiny tentacles of a jellyfish. He      turns on the headlights when the sun sets lower in the west, causing the woods      surrounding us to fall into shadows.

Besides the forced happy hellos we exchanged under my aunt’s      watchful eye, Ryan and I have said nothing to each other since he picked me up.      The things he uttered to me two weeks ago still hurt—I was nothing more than a      dare.