Dare You To (Pushing the Limits #2)(105)

Mostly he slept. The needles scared me. Mom got real nervous if I played too close to them.”

“What happened?”

Why didn’t Mom tell him? Or Shirley? Why do I have to do it? “Dad didn’t want me.”

“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 he**in 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 he**in 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.”

The whispering and laughing cease and people distance themselves from me and my locker. Dread forces all hope to abandon my body. Written on my locker is the word I fear the most: whore.

Whore.

I slept with Ryan on Friday night.

Whore.

But he came to the hospital Saturday. He texted and called on Sunday, but I was too exhausted to call back. Ryan cares.

Whore.

I spin on my heel and try to escape down the hallway—away from my locker, away from the whispers and the laughter. I round a corner and slam into a friend of Gwen’s. “Well, look who it is—Beth Risk. Is it true you were arrested in Louisville?”

The only person I told about that was Ryan.

“Go to hell.”

Her friends laugh and she smiles. “Gwen tried to warn you. Ryan and his friends take dares very seriously. What made you think you were anything more than that?”