Page 58 of The Bully's Dare

Words coming up like acid in my throat. I want to tell him. I’m going to tell him. He deserves to know.

But then, down the aisle, I see him approaching. Mr. King. His eyes land on me and they narrow.

I have to get out of here. My voice is sharp, my teeth are chattering, and what comes flying out of my mouth next is the only thing I can think of to get him to leave: “Jesus, Jason, it was just a summer fling. Man up.”

I yank the shopping cart and, this time, he releases his grip. He looks kicked. But I’m running on adrenaline now—no turning back now. I exit the aisle and push the cart forward, away, trying to find Pearl, trying to get out of here…

Trying to ignore the tears blurring my vision, or the metallic taste of shame in my mouth.

I open the jar of peanut butter on the way back to Four’s. I eat it with my fingers. It lumps in my mouth and my throat and I take no joy in it, but I keep shoveling it back anyway.

Pearl parks the car out front and then hops out. “Can you get the rest of the bags, darling?” she calls out.

But “rest of” she means “all of,” but I don’t complain. It takes me a second to suck the sweet stickiness from my fingers, but then I screw the jar shut and get to work. I clamber out of the car and load the groceries onto my arms. All my movements feel slow. Every task is a chore.

I want to curl under the blankets of my bed and sleep for a year.

I use my foot to kick the car door closed and trudge inside. Except my bad mood doesn’t get to linger, because the second I open the door—

“Surprise!”

For a minute, I just stare at the sight in front of me. There’s a colored banner hanging across the wall with the word “Congratulations!” Four and Pearl are standing side-by-side, staring at me, all wide, toothy smiles. A single cupcake sits on a plate on the table, a candle in it.

First, I think: it’s not my birthday.

Then, it hits me. They must have found out about the baby. And they’re…happy about it?

“We’re so proud of you, kid,” Four says. Really laying on the dad-role thick.

Proud of me? This isn’t how I thought this conversation would go. My mouth is dry. Maybe from nerves. Maybe from all the peanut butter I devoured in the car. I drop the grocery bags to the floor.

“Um. Thanks. How did you…find out?”

“We got the letter,” Pearl says.

The letter?

She then whisks a letter off the foyer and holds it out for me. It’s folded in three places and I have to flattened it out.

Ms. Kenzi Stratton,

We’re delighted to inform you that you’ve been accepted to…

“Holy shit,” I gasp. “I’m off the waitlist.”

I reread the letter. Twice.

“I’m going to Berklee!”

Pearl lets out a whoop and Four pulls out a noisemaker from who-knows-where and blows into it.

For the first time in weeks, I’m grinning ear to ear. My mom wraps her arms around me and I find myself clinging to her, crushing her against me.

“I knew you’d do it, darling,” she says.

I bury my face in her shoulder and fight off tears that have been welling up all day.

“That’s all it takes,” Four goes off, his voice meandering. “Hard work. Patience. And a little angel on your shoulder.”

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