How To Kill Ryder Blake (COMPLETED)

{Eight} The Idiot Test

I wasn't a person to really show too many emotions, and I know deep down that's one of the reasons Ryder had approached me the other night. I'd been through my fair share of trauma, but I'd always brushed it off, or at least tried to, and pushed any negative emotions or feelings so deep they only resurfaced when brought up by someone else. I wanted to believe that this whole list and situation with Ryder would be something I could do the same with, that even if he did at some point meet his inevidtable demise, I'd be able to pick myself back up and carry on with my life.

Unfortunately, the rational part of my brain, especially after seeing the look of devastation and hurt on Ryan Blake's face, knew that wouldn't be the case. This wasn't just some asshole who stood me up at Prom and I'd eventually grow to forget it ever happened to begin with. This was someone who was dying, and doing everything humanly possible to kill himself before the Cancer could take him. I was going to have a part in him getting himself killed, and if he didn't succeed, would be in the wake of the aftermath of the disease taking him until there was nothing left of him.

Digging my heel into the wet mud beneath my sneaker, I tried to shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. One that had been there long before I'd started thinking about Ryder and his crazy list.

         Against my will, my eyes shot to the black Challenger double parked behind my sister's Gray Nissan Altima. Fresh raindrops continuously hit the windshield and rolled off, smacking the pavement with just as much force. Though I was just as soaked as the cars in the driveway, it was better than the alternative of being in the battlefield inside my house right now. My father had showed up a couple hours ago and had been going at it with Mom and Eddie since. I'd walked out about five minutes into the argument, contemplating calling Max, but ultimately deciding against it.

        Between Gabby's outburst and his confrontation with the Blake's, it probably wasn't the best idea to call him. He'd been extremely hungover and irritated, but even worse, worried. He knew all about my father, and would want to know every little detail, which I had no desire speaking about.

       "Ryder, man, come. . ." Ryan's yell startled me so bad I nearly slipped off the swing. Ryder was stomping up the front steps of his house, flipping his brother off. Seconds later the sound of the door slamming echoed through the yard, almost as loud as the clap of thunder that followed it. Ryan stared after his younger brother for a few minutes, one hand rubbing his sharp jaw, the other grasping a duffel bag. Thanks to my ugly glasses, I was able to see Ryder's named sewn into the side. Just as he was about to head up the driveway after his brother, Ryan caught sight of me next to the playground.

        Much to my disliking, he looked at his door for a moment before crossing the yard to me.

     "What are you doing out here, Summers?" He asked, then added. "I didn't know you wore glasses."

      Just as he swung the red and white duffel bag over his left his shoulder, the front door slammed shut and my father stormed down the steps, shaking his head to himself, most likely talking about my mom and stepfather under his breath. I watched Ryan's entire body grow tense at the sight of my dad, the gears shifting in his head as he came to the realization of why I was out here.

     "Are you okay?" He asked, prying his eyes off my father. I nodded, but didn't respond. Even if I had wanted to, my father caught sight of us seconds after climbing into his Challenger, and got back out.

         "Ryder was in the hospital last night." Ryan muttered, as if he were trying to change the subject.

      I shot up, grasping the chains of the swing. "Is he okay?"

     "He's fine. Was just throwing up all night. Took him in to get him some fluids in him. They told me it was normal for-"

      "There you are!" My dad interrupted Ryan, earning a dark look out of both of us. He slowed to a stop a few feet away, hands deep in his jacket pockets as he looked back and forth between Ryan and me, looking almost intimidated by the young man in front of him.