Page 3 of Risking it All

Macie stared at the paper in her hands. She had written some things down and was possibly the only one in the group who’d completed the warm-up exercise because that’s who she was—the girl who had perfect attendance, the girl who had the best grade-point average, the girl who belonged to clubs and ran for student government and won. Still, her delicate throat moved as if speaking was the last thing she wanted to do.

While this group would do silence at the beginning, Lev would eventually talk conspiracy theories, Demarius would be polite in answering prompts—sharing just enough to make Zuri believe she hadn’t made all the wrong life choices—and Melanie would give a soliloquy on the woes of texting. But Macie was like me; she stayed silent.

“Macie,” Zuri pressed. “We’ve been in session for three weeks. Even Relic has shared.”

“Shared” was a very loose interpretation, but yes, I had spoken words in my quest to irritate Zuri, but Macie hadn’t said much beyond “Hi,” “Bye,” and “Good.” All proper and acceptable one-word answers in my opinion.

“I can tell you’ve written something,” Zuri continued. “Why don’t you share? It can be simple. For example, I like being up late during the summer, but I have to wake up early. That’s a challenge. A simple one, but a challenge.”

Zuri waited, making it clear she wasn’t moving on until Macie answered, and Macie kept staring at the list in her hands. She shook her head, and when she glanced up, the hurt in her eyes resonated with something hidden deep within me. I understood that hurt, understood that pain. Understood not wanting to talk about any of it. Here was the thing—she shouldn’t have to. Noone should ever be pressured to say a damn thing if they didn’t want to. Especially someone who took a bullet over a fucking car.

“I don’t have a ride home,” I announced, and every head in the room whipped toward me.

Zuri blinked so many times, I wondered if her contact had slipped. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that? I want to make sure I heard you correctly.”

She heard me. She was stalling so she could revel in the fact that I’d shared more than a sarcastic quip. “My challenge for the week.” Or one of the million in my life. “My car broke down, I used the last of my cash for a bus ride here, and I don’t have a way home.”

I raised my eyebrows as a challenge to Zuri because I could see it there in her eyes. The urge to automatically ask if I could call a parent or an adult for help. If she’d had any type of instruction in her college courses, she would have read my file prior to this meeting, so she’d know I didn’t have an adult in my life who could do shit for me. “Have any instructional tips for how to not walk my ass home?”

Chapter two

Macie

Before walking out the door to the school, I made sure Ariel was in the parking lot. No way in hell I was leaving the building without someone I knew nearby. Of course, my best friend was there like she had promised. Seeing me peek out the door, she gave a wave. Ignoring the nauseating slithering of snakes in my stomach, I went out, paused, and did a head swivel to take in my surroundings. I studied the people in the waiting cars and decided most of them looked like haggard parents tired of waiting on their kids, so I headed for my ride.

My best friend, the closest person I had to a sister, Ariel Walker straightened from leaning against her rebuilt 1994 Mustang. She held her arms out wide, an indication we’d be hugging whether I wanted to or not. Her long blond hair hung from a ponytail at the top of her head, and she wore a blue, spaghetti-strapped, mid-thigh summer dress to match the raging June heat.

My left shoulder ached as I accepted the hug. She embraced me longer than normal, something she had done since February. Sort of like she needed to make sure I was still real. I understood. Sometimes I didn’t feel real to myself anymore.

Letting me go, Ariel gave me her enthusiastic, personal cheerleader smile. “How did therapy go?” My best friend exuded confidence like no one else in the universe.

“I have once again found a way to be a disappointment to my parents.”

Ariel smooshed her lips to the side and returned to leaning against her car. “You’re not capable of being a disappointment to anyone, least of all your parents.”

I shrugged because I had no idea how to explain a single thought or emotion inside me. There were plenty of emotions, but they were all shoved deep down into a place that I couldn’t reach no matter how hard I tried. So, I resorted to my favorite go-to coping mechanism since February: deflection. “Are you ready for your trip?”

Excitement lit her eyes, but then guilt darkened them. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Har, har,” she quipped. “Anyway, I was talking to Mom and Dad, and I don’t have to go to Europe this summer. We all think Grandma and Gramps would be more than happy to take me next year instead and—”

“You’re going,” I cut her off. “You’re going, and I demand a postcard from every single place you visit. And if you don’t go, I will no longer be your best friend.”

While Ariel resembled her mom with golden blond hair, delicate nose, and soft features, she had her father’s severe gray eyes that, with their gaze, conveyed how the millions of thoughts bouncing in her brain should be taken seriously. “I’m worried about you.”

Deflated, I leaned back against her car. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

Sort of was. I was the one who found it literally impossible to speak in therapy or to speak at all about what happened in February, and I absolutely hated it. I hated how this impenetrable wall that surrounded me in regard to that night pushed me into becoming a shell of who I used to be. “I’m serious about the postcards. I will throw a fit.”

I wouldn’t, but I didn’t want to discuss me and my problems. Ariel gave me a half-hearted smile and nudged my shoulder with hers. “Fine, be all bossy like that.”

“Fine,” I teased back. “I will.”

“Ready to go home?”

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