The Dare

Twelve • The Dare

TWELVE • THE DARE

I was stressed. This was too heavy, too much work. I was here to learn. I was here to graduate and get away from my former life. I was here because I was better off here.

I stood up, rolling my eyes and not bothering to look back at the curious eyes of Daniel and Chloe. I could let them wonder. I could let them question it. But I wasn't about to get sucked in and I wasn't going to be that naive just to get stuck. None of this division crap mattered anyway and what if I just sat on the sidelines and watched? Would anyone stop me? Would anyone try to sway me?

I sluggishly made my way to the bar, asking for the heaviest drink they had, recieving odd looks from the bartender. If my mom could get drunk and forget about everything, her daughter included, then I could get drunk and practically forget I existed. Things were better this way.

As I guzzled my drink, I watched as the rest of the kids stayed quiet, not willing to take up Beckham's bold offer. Who would want to? Spy on the Minds? Spy on the Bloods? They avoided the job out of fear; I avoided it out of common sense. What did I think I was going to accomplish by getting information from Cas and Ryder? Now it all made sense: nothing makes sense.

I quickly asked for another glass and with each, I watch the world around me glow and tilt with a fuzzy and very pretty quality. As terrible as the alcohol tasted on the back of my tongue, its effect was perfect for my current situation. Before I could devour my sixth drink, Daniel appeared in front of me, Chloe still heavily engaged in the pointless conversation about spies.

"You're going to drink yourself to death, Rose," he said, taking the seat next to me. I shrugged, running my free hand through my hair.

"Mmm. High metabolism." He eyed me cautiously as if I was about to faint at any minute. Truthfully, I wasn't completely wasted. Not yet. Daniel grabbed my glass, but I had it back in a matter of seconds, pressed to my lips.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, his blue eyes never leaving me.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just don't do heavy. This is a lot for me. Sitting here at a party, being in school where people talk to me. Me actually talking back. People legitamately caring for me. It's a lot," I mumbled, swirling my glass around before taking another gulp. "I kind of miss...not being missed." With that, I finished up my drink, ready to ask for another. But Daniel stopped me, carefully placing his hand on mine.

"It's not that bad. You'll get used to it."

"No." He furrowed his brows.

"Yes, Rose. Now come back down from here. Let's go over by Chloe." I swiveled around in my chair so I could face him directly. If he couldn't get the message sideways, he could get it straight on.

"No. Daniel. I. Don't. Do. Heavy." I turned back around, once again reaching for my drink. Once again, he stopped me.

"Come on." This time, it wasn't a suggestion. I could hear it in his voice that it was a command and I was coming, whether I wanted to or not. He helped me down, watching me carefully as I swayed across the floor, not quite drunk, bur certainly not sober.

We sat back down by Chloe and saw as Beckham became more desperate for takers. Suddenly, Chloe made a small noise of dissatisfaction, turning towards me.

"Are you drunk?" she scoffed accusingly. I shrugged and then sank back into the couch. Maybe I was.

"Come on, there must be one person willing to take up this job," Beckam whined, throwing his hands up in frustration. I giggled. When did everything get so funny?

Several agonizing minutes passed, the group staying completely silent. But Beckham continued his preaching and told us how charitable the deed would prove to be if we only tried. If it was charitable and as desirable as he suggested, why didn't the dumb Brit just do it himself?