Dare Me by Eric Devine

Ben’s future.” She shoots me a look and I know she’s not going any further, but I also know we’re not finished.

CHAPTER 11
    I f I had been paying attention in physics, I could probably calculate how fast I’ll be going when I hit the water. But I’m not paying attention in physics or in any other class, so I wouldn’t know what to do with the dimensions of the ramp if I had them. Anyway, what good would my computations do me? We’re already here.
    “Gather round.” Ricky straddles his bike. The same BMX we all now own, compliments of O. P.
    We roll into a knot and the cold morning air tickles the skin at the back of my neck. So much for completing these dares later in the day.
    “We’ll draw for order. Grab a slip.” Ricky holds his mask, and we each reach in and grab a slip of paper. We’re decked out in our uniform and now have helmets, which are wrapped in the company’s logo.
    “Open ’em,” Ricky says, and we all look.
    “Yeah, number three, baby!” Ricky shouts.
    “Shit, same order as last time.” John throws his slip to the ground.
    But this won’t be anything like last time. Everything’s different. Trevor’s on camera, we got paid for the bridge jump, and now Ginny knows. And in spite of how much Ricky swears he has this all worked out, he still hasn’t brought us copies of the contract. My brain is screaming questions I don’t have answers to, ones I should have asked over the past weeks but didn’t.
    Ricky claps his hands like some coach and says, “Let’s do this!” Maybe that’s how he sees himself now. These past two weeks have been all about getting the ramp built and creating a quiet buzz for the dare. Trevor’s edited pieces of our last stunts into a fifteen-second commercial that pops up here and there, but no one can add its link anywhere or bookmark it. It’s unembeddable or something like that. He’s a shifty kid, but he meant what he said about knowing computers. It almost makes me wish I was an übernerd like him, rather than average, or possibly above.
    Ricky points toward the ramp. Three guys showed up and built the thing after the crates were dropped off. Apparently O. P. paid them. “Start where I’ve spray-painted, because you need at least that much speed. Pedal until you reach the ramp and then coast. Remember,” his voice rises, “do not hit your brakes at any time! All you need to do is ride it out, and once you’re in the air, push the bike away from you. All right?”
    I have a dozen questions. No, more. But it’s too late for the answers.
    The only one that does is this: we’re doing this because we all believe in the premise of becoming legends. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
    “Good. John, get in position. I’ll check with Trev, and then give you the signal.”
    John pulls his mask on and buckles his helmet strap.
    “Trev.” That’s what Ricky calls him, now. Trev. Like he’s some pet. In a way, he is. He hangs on Ricky’s side like one of those handbag dogs. I know they made up and all, but John and I didn’t exactly forgive and forget, so I’m not really sure what they are to each other besides former enemies.
    Newton would find out the answer. He was too smart not to. But would he complete this dare?
    “John, I’m going to do the intro and then it’s all you buddy. You good?”
    John gives a thumbs-up but does not look at us. He stares down the hill, at the ramp. Ball starts in two weeks. I can only imagine what he’s thinking.
    “In five, four, three . . .” Trevor gives the countdown and Ricky coughs once to clear his throat.
    “Welcome to Dare Number Three, brought to you by Get Out There Adventure. Check out the website for all your outdoor adventure needs.”
    Ricky rambles on talking about the ramp and the distance and the height and speed we’ll be traveling, but I tune him out. I can’t listen or I know I’ll balk. It’s like going on a roller coaster. I can’t watch the thing go round and round. I