Dare You To (Pushing the Limits, #2)(76)

I—Beth Risk—did something good.

Lacy points at Chris, then at Logan standing over his dead      dummy. “We won.” In her sitting position she moves her shoulders in a crazy      little dance. “We won. We won. We won.”

“Your girl is a sore winner.” Logan edges closer to us.

“It’s kinda hot though,” says Chris. “Now that you      experienced the rush, are you going to take on more dares from us, baby?”

Lacy laughs. “I didn’t take the dare. Beth did.”

Logan and Chris nod at me in appreciation. I shrug in      return. For the past week, we’ve been feeling each other out. Lacy talks to me.      Ryan talks to me. Sometimes, I talk back. On Monday, I caved to their      brow-beating and began sitting with them at lunch. When Ryan’s feeling bold, he      takes my hand. When I’m feeling bolder, I hold his hand back.

At the mention of the dare, I fish a black marker out of my      pack. Ryan’s last words before we started CPR were that Lacy and I couldn’t hold      out; that we were too weak to outlast the combination of him and Chris. I write      the four most beautiful letters on my palm and turn it for Ryan to see: can’t.

As he leans against the wall, that brilliant smile spreads      across Ryan’s face and he shakes his head. Warm fuzzies race through my      bloodstream. I love that smile. Maybe a little too much.

“I’m not wowed,” I say to him. It’s been four days since our      agreement and Ryan’s done nothing to “wow” me.

His smile turns cocky and, I have to admit, I like that      smile too. “I’ve got time.”

*

From the opposite side of the island, Scott watches as I      scoop another spoonful of Lucky Charms into my mouth. I talk through the      crunches. “And then I felt a pulse and Lacy thought we should pump again and I      shook my head no.”

“Then what happened?” asks Scott.

I feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin. “We won. I      mean, we saved the dummy and Mr. Knox said I did good.” I did something right. I      still can’t get over it.

“That’s fantastic. Isn’t it, Allison?”

It’s eight o’clock at night. Allison sits at the opposite      end of the bar and doesn’t bother glancing up from the latest toy Scott bought      her last week: an e-reader. “Fantastic,” she echoes in a voice that tells me she      doesn’t actually think so.

Shoving another spoonful of cereal into my mouth keeps me      from muttering my exact thoughts. I should have waited to tell Scott the story      over breakfast, when it’s just the two of us, but I was too excited.

“Is that what it’s like to be a nurse?” I ask Scott. “To      feel all powerful and in control.” And to have someone tell me that I did good?      My mind races with the possibilities. Maybe I could be a nurse. Blood doesn’t      bother me. Neither does puke. Too worked up to sit still, I drum my hands on the      counter—I could really do this.

“You need to excel at science to be a nurse,” says Allison      in her bored voice. “And your grades on your last progress report suggest that      might be a problem for you.”

My face reddens as if she slapped me. I wish I could think      of something wittier, but at times, the plain truth is good enough. “You really      are a bitch.”

“Stop it, Elisabeth,” says Scott. “And, Allison, her grades      are improving.”

Well, screw me, Scott reprimanded the wench. Huh. Allison      tears her eyes from the e-reader. I could bask in the glory of this moment, but      I decided weeks ago that she’s not worth my time. I turn to Scott. Daydreaming      is over. I have real problems. “I need black hair dye.”

“For what?” Scott asks.

Is he blind? I shake my hair and lower my head so he can see      my roots. My roots. The blond pokes      out from my jet-black hair like annoying rays of sun. I flip my hair back over      my shoulder. “Will you buy me some?”

If I buy anything with the cash Isaiah gave me, Scott would      be all over me like flies to crap. I’m not ready to tip my hand that I have      cash. Besides, he’s always wanting to do something for me—now he can.

“No,” he says.

Um...did I misunderstand him? “No?”

“No.”

“I’m not going to be a blonde.”

“It’s who you are. Why do you have to change something so      beautiful?”