Taking His Dare

Chapter One

Chapter One

I was sitting on my porch, my trench jacket zipped all the way up to my chin. I had broken out my winter wardrobe already, even though it was still technically fall. I hated the cold, and Michigan winters—or autumns, in this case—were the worst. And, naturally, he was late. But what did I expect? He always was.

Finally, fifteen minutes before school was supposed to start, he pulled up in his black Hummer, speakers blasting some sort of rap music. I ran to the car, pulled open the door, and threw myself onto the passenger seat. He had the heat blasting, knowing I’d be freezing my ass off on my porch.

“Hey,” he said casually, turning down his music.

“Hey?” I said back. “You turn up to pick me up almost a half hour late, and all you have to say is hey?”

He smiled, and I smiled back. We did this every morning when he would pick me up; it had become routine. Even if he was on time, I would still say the same thing. Next, he would say:

“Yup. What do you expect, babe? I’m a busy, busy man.” The serious tone he said it in never failed to make me laugh. The one thing that no one knew about my best friend was that he was an actor. Well, I liked to call what he did acting. He liked to call it a way of surviving. No one would suspect that inside the body that was Rut was a heart that was numb.

“Well, let’s get going, I can’t be late for homeroom again.” It was true; I was one detention away from suspension. And if I got suspended again, my parents would ship me off to Alaska to live with relatives in an igloo, for good.

“Don’t want my best friend having to result to cuddling with grizzly bears in Alaska,” Rut mumbled, smirking slightly. I stuck my tongue out at him, but his eyes were focused on the road, so I settled for punching his arm.

“Dizzy,” He suddenly said, in a serious voice that I never usually heard from him.

Uh oh. This had to mean he found out that I was the one who broke his PlayStation on Saturday. Those games are damn hard, and I’m probably a little too competitive for my own—or anyone else’s—good.

“It was an accident!” I burst out, looking at him with wide eyes. “You know how I get when I play any game, and I was losing real bad, and the wall was just there asking me to throw the damn thing at it!”

Rut looked at me quickly. “Wait, you were the one who broke my PlayStation?” He didn’t know? Then what did he want to tell me?

“Umm… so, what was it you were going to tell me?” Diversion, the best method to use in any situation. I’ve learned from experience.

I flipped the radio to the local alternative rock station and Rut swats my hand away, but left the station I chose on.

“You know what? Never mind,” he said, staring at the road, hands clenching the wheel.

“If this is about the PlayStation, I can but you a new one. It might take a while, but—“

“No, Dizz, it’s okay. My parents already bought me a new one. But it’s not important, seriously.”

I put my hand on his shoulder. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know,” he said with a small smile on his lips.

We pulled into the school parking lot, and Rut parked his Hummer in the spot that was unspokenly his.

“Let’s go,” he said as he reached for his bag in the backseat. “I wouldn’t want my best friend freezing her ass of in Alaska.”