Free Dare Me by Eric Devine

nods, but of course he does. At least he spoke up.
    I say, “Yeah, sure,” but wish I could articulate more.
    The bell rings, and John and I look at Ricky as if we need more time.
    “See you at lunch,” he says and takes off.
    We cram the papers into our pockets and head to class, and I pray the caffeine provides me the ability to concentrate.
    —
    I bombed quizzes in all of my classes. No multiple choice, all short answer and essay. I know Newton’s laws, but when I was staring at the questions asking me to describe each, all I could think of was my messed-up life. The dares or the crap at home may apply, but I certainly wouldn’t get credit for writing losing my house as an example for the First Law, and playing chicken in traffic for the Second.
    Math was as ridiculous. This whole “show your work” nonsense is just that—bullshit. I could have maybe guessed the answers, but I have no clue how to actually get there. Kind of like with the bike and the pond scenario, or which is better, a mortgage or rent? I’m sure I could figure it out, but is it worth it?
    And English. Jesus Christ, I can’t even write fluff today. I’m normally an expert at the fill-in-the-blank essay format, inserting the names of characters and plot points where they belong. But not today. The only stories I had were of my family living in a shack or of how John, Ricky, and I all died jumping from a rooftop and slamming into the alley below, or being pinned underwater by some rock, waiting for the stopwatch to reach three minutes.
    I give up. It’s already October, so why shouldn’t I? By Thanksgiving I’ll be on academic probation, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll either be living in some shitty apartment downtown or out in Arizona with the tumbleweeds. Or dead.
    I close my locker and John’s face replaces the space where the metal grille was.
    “You decide?”
    I sigh. “No. You?”
    “I tried. But this was hard. It was a hell of a lot easier when Ricky was telling us what to do.”
    When we arrive at the cafeteria, all is the usual until I look at our table. There, planted at Ricky’s elbow, is Trevor. The two of them are talking about something real intensely. Trevor’s gesturing and Ricky’s nodding and adding comments to whatever Trevor’s saying. If I didn’t know them, I’d think they were friends. They both look up when John and I sit down, but keep talking. They use words like “bandwidth” and “screen splitter.”
    We eat and ignore the big question hanging over us. I think it’s called the “elephant in the room,” but what would I know? My English essay might as well have been written in crayon.
    “Guys, hey, sorry about that, Trevor and I needed to get some of this camera work stuff out of the way.”
    John and I stop eating, but he was almost done anyway, so that doesn’t really count. I wait for more, but Ricky moves on like everything is normal.
    “So, lists? Let’s take a look.” Ricky pulls his out of his pocket, and I’m glad to see that Trevor doesn’t have his own copy. Neither John nor I move, though.
    “No, you explain what’s going on here.” John points with his fork. “Since eighth grade you’ve been ready to punch this weasel into the ground. And now? He’s in on this?”
    Trevor stares ahead as if John’s talking about someone else, not him.
    Ricky smooths his list on the table. “I told you that I would be talking to Trevor. That we’d sort this out. We did, and then decided that it would be best if he did our camera work and helped us with online security. He’s good and it would make things easier. You remember our conversation with McNeil, right?”
    I know John’s not going to answer, so I clear my throat. “Of course we remember, but that’s not the issue. It seems like you decided something pretty significant for us . Aren’t you the one who told us not to tell anyone? So it’s kind of f’ed that you did. And besides that, you hate him. What’s the deal?” The