Eyes Wide Open

fourteen

"Dash," I started cautiously, trying to choose my words carefully. "I have an idea. It's...not exactly legal or ideal, but it might solve your money problems with that guy."

Dash glanced at me from the driver's side of his car. His beaten face made his expression more severe. "What are you talking about?"

"Breaking into a house and stealing stuff," I said slowly, watching his reaction.

"Absolutely fucking not," he said immediately, his face hardening.

"No, hear me out," I insisted. "My parents are sort of friends with this rich senator. They went to law school together. Harrison Caldwell. He did, like, corporate law for a while, has a lot of different investments or whatever, plus family money. He's seriously loaded, and I think—"

"No," Dash cut me off firmly, white-knuckling the steering wheel. "Let me say this clearly: we are not robbing some rich politician's house. That's insane."

"It's not insane," I argued. "It's desperate, yes, but we're desperate! You said it yourself—you need money, and fast. This guy has it. Just once, in and out. He probably wouldn't even notice."

Dash shook his head, his face a mix of disbelief and frustration. "Do you even hear yourself? We could go to jail. Or worse."

I let out a sharp exhale. "Dash, we're dealing drugs. We could go to jail for that! How is this any different?"

"If you seriously can't see the difference between selling coke and pills and breaking into someone's house, who probably has a ton of security, then I honestly don't even know how to talk to you right now. There are lines that shouldn't be crossed. Robbing someone is personal, Blake, and there are a million ways to get caught. Plus, the consequences would be way worse."

"You're hurt, Dash!" I shot back, my voice rising in frustration. "That guy could have killed you tonight. What am I supposed to do, just sit around and wait for him to come back? To kill you? To hurt your family? I don't want to watch you fucking die!"

The events of the evening had scared me, more than I wanted to admit. But I wasn't scared because I was in too far; I was afraid of losing Dash.

"Don't do this," Dash said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I appreciate you wanting to help, I do, but this isn't the way. You're smarter than this."

I stared at him, my heart pounding. He wasn't going to budge, I could see that now. But I couldn't just let this go. Not when the stakes were this high.

"Fine," I muttered, turning to look out the window even though I couldn't see shit. "Forget I said anything."

Dash reached out and grabbed my hand. "I'll figure something out, okay? I don't want you to be a part of this."

I nodded, though I wasn't really agreeing. I just didn't want to fight with him anymore. I wouldn't just give up, let him sacrifice himself for his family. Even though it was a terrible idea and would probably have consequences, I planned to help Dash whether he wanted my help or not.

After Dash dropped me off at home, I hesitantly went inside the front door, knowing my parents were prepared to bring the hammer down on me.

They were waiting for me in the living room. I tried to sneak past and go to my room, but no such luck.

"Blake Marie Summers, get your ass in here!" my mother shouted angrily at me. She normally didn't curse, so I knew I was in for it.

I turned around and, very slowly, entered the living room, a guilty look on my face.

"Where were you?" my mom demanded in a sharp voice.

"We were about to call the police," my dad said in a tense voice, his face red. "The police, Blake! Do you know how many times we called? Texted? And you couldn't bother looking at that phone you're always on? To let us know that you're okay?"