Page 7 of The Bully's Dare

“Mmhm.” There’s a sugar flower on her slice of cake and I swipe it between my fingers and pop it in my mouth. “Whose birthday is it?”

“Mine.”

I squint at her. “Are you serious?”

“Lucky number eighteen.”

“That’s a big one.”

“So I’ve been told.” If she’s put off by the trailer, BBQ pit, or my growly father, she doesn’t show it. The opposite, actually; she looks right at home.

“Wanna take a walk?” I ask her.

“Sure.”

She hands over the plate and a plastic fork and we walk through the grass and behind the fenced in pool.

The crickets sing. Fireflies blink. We find a large slab of stone to sit on. We watch an egret wade her long legs through the tall grass at the edge of the water.

All of this nighttime peace is interrupted only by the true wildlife of Hannsett Island: Healing Touch is booming tonight, blaring loud pop music.

Jason King and his merry band of popular kids never quit.

“Wanna play a game?” Kenzi asks as we pick at the cake.

“Sure.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to catch a firefly.”

“Hold this.” I hand her the plate and she takes it. I get up and move just a little ways into the long cattail bushes. There’s a bunch of small lights, blinking on and off. Fireflies are pretty, but dumb and slow. I cup one in both my hands, then come back over to Kenzi.

“Check it out.” I open my hands, just a little. She leans over, her head nearly bumping mine. Inside my curved fingers, the trapped firefly glows, illuminating my palms.

“Nice,” Kenzi murmurs. Her breath warms my hands.

“You want to glow?” I ask her.

She narrows her eyes at me. “What, like rip his butt off and rub it on our faces?”

“Well—”

“Psychopath. Let it go.”

“Your lucky day, little guy,” I tell him. I open my hands and the firefly flies out, waving drunkenly through the sky.

“Your turn,” I tell Kenzi as we sit back down on the stone. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” she says, which I think is brave.

“What’s the one thing you want to do now that you’re eighteen?”

She lets out a small laugh and rubs the back of her neck. “Honestly?”

“That’s why it’s called truth.”

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