The Dare

1

Monday, May 22

Senior pranks are a rite of passage. Sometimes they’re fun and sometimes they’re killer.

They’re the last dumb thing you do in high school before you get to do a whole bunch of dumb things in college.

But if you go to my school, they can stop your college dreams dead.

Sophomore year I couldn’t wait to participate in senior pranks, but in the last two years the pranks have really escalated. The Wilder brothers—putting their last name to good use—took over. Five of them, all a year apart in age and all headed for prison if it weren’t for their parents’ money, came up with a way to raise the stakes.

Everett

Emmett

Rhett—ugh

Garrett

Truett

Their parents really went with that matching-name theme. No wonder they have issues.

I think I remember a kid ribbing Everett about it once. Only once. There’s a rumor that the kid had to move to another country.

The brothers all like to exert their dominance. They assign you a prank. A dare, really. If you’re brave enough—or stupid enough—to turn it down, a forfeit is forced upon you.

Arrests, expulsions, not walking at graduation, and even college rejections are what we face now. That is if we accept the dares…or if we don’t. Saying no has consequences too.

I watch Rhett laugh and shove one of his followers as he makes his way into the cafeteria, cutting in the line because he doesn’t have to wait like the rest of us.

My best friend, Lucia, twirls her shiny black hair around her finger. Ignore him, she says, pushing what I think is supposed to be a burrito away from her. She’s curled up with her boyfriend, Jesse, so far evading the eyes of any teachers monitoring for PDA.

Jesse throws a scowl in Rhett’s direction, still holding a grudge against him for getting starting quarterback at the beginning of the year. Jesse and Atlas are better. Rhett’s family is richer.

The dares are going to start soon, I say, turning my nose up. Rhett’s probably already plotting.

With only three weeks left of school, senior pranks are right around the corner. Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to go all out to prank Principal Fuller, but I don’t want to get messed up in Rhett’s games.

Atlas leans in, kissing my cheek. Nothing’s going to stop you and your big brain from going to UCLA.

Last year Billy Halsten had his place at Ohio State stripped because the fire he set in a trash can spread and gutted a 7-Eleven. It was his dare from the second-born Wilder brother. Not to destroy a building but to keep the fire department busy while someone else stole a CPR mannequin.

Since then, the whole thing has made me want to skip the last few weeks of school altogether. There’s no way Rhett is going to listen to Fuller’s warnings.

We’re to keep it safe. No stupid stuff.

The Wilder brothers only do stupid stuff, and I think Rhett might be the worst one of them all.

And I already know Atlas and Jesse won’t back down from a dare.

Nothing will stop college because I’m not playing, I tell him. We’re sticking with eggs and glitter and balloons. That’s enough.

Atlas pouts, and I can feel myself starting to relent. He’s ridiculously good-looking—dark skin, full lips, football player’s physique. He’s been mine for the last three years. Come on, babe, we’ll stick to the boring pranks, I promise. But we can’t miss out on this.

The ones we’ve planned are boring. Kind of. They’ll annoy the hell out of Fuller, so it’ll still be funny. He’ll be cleaning glitter from his office long after we’ve gone.

He’s right, Luce says, jabbing a finger in my arm as Jesse bites her neck and makes her squeal. She pushes his head. We’re not skipping this just because people have been total idiots in the past.

So you’re going to listen to Rhett? I ask, eyeing them as if they’ve been taken over by aliens.

Jesse scoffs, runs a hand through his white-blond hair, and glares at Rhett again. I think he hates him as much as I do. We’re not going to let him threaten us. Their family doesn’t have as much power as he thinks. If there’s something we don’t want to do, we won’t.

A burst of noise gets my attention. Ruthie cackles when Rhett pokes her in the hips. They take a seat at the table next to us, and he looks over, smirking at me. His eyes are the darkest blue I’ve ever seen, looking nearly black against his light skin and sandy-blond locks. He just looks rich, you know. The preppy, perfect hair and expensive clothes. He has a ring on his thumb, as if he belongs to some underground organization.

All the brothers wear them, and no one knows why, but they look ridiculous.

I’ve lost count of the times he’s tried to break Atlas and me up, despite having Ruthie hanging off his every word.

He’s a typical bored rich kid who’s never had to deal with the consequences of any of his actions. It’s why he and his brothers hijacked senior pranks.

And he was once my best friend.

He smiles again and I turn away.

Hate, hate, hate.

Atlas, unlike me, is still staring at him.

Forget him, I say. He’s not worth it.

I really wish someone would do something about him, Jesse mutters, his light eyes trying to laser into Rhett’s head.

Atlas barks a laugh. Like what?

Yeah, like what? I ask, genuinely invested now.

I don’t know, Jesse says. But I think we should figure it out.

You want to mess with a Wilder? Luce asks, giving him a look as if she thinks he’s lost his mind. Luce is too nice and a total rule follower. She wouldn’t even pack a fizzy drink on a field trip if you weren’t supposed to.

I want to roll my eyes. Not because I think it’s a bad idea—because someone needs to stand up to that family—but because it’s a waste of our energy when we’ll be going to college in a few months.

We’ll be out of here, and Rhett will be at a college in state because he’s not allowed to go far. His parents are big on control; all the brothers have gone to the same college, and all will get an apartment near their parents after so they can join the family business.

I mean, no wonder they act out. Their whole lives have already been planned, and they don’t get a choice in any of it. Sounds suffocating as hell.

I still think they’re all assholes, though.

I’m just saying, I’m sure there’s some way we can turn these pranks around on him, Jesse says.

I’m game, I tell him. We could paint little pink bunnies on his expensive car.

Why bunnies? Jesse asks, chuckling.

Why not?

Fair. He’d hate it.

I smile. And that’s all that matters.

Atlas side-eyes me, tapping his fingers on the table. He knows that Rhett and I were close in elementary and middle school—they all do, but I’ve never really spoken about it.

Atlas looks like he’s about to say something, but we’re distracted by screams of laughter. I look up as four guys from the football team walk into the cafeteria wearing cheerleader outfits, complete with pom-poms and paint stripes on their cheeks.

The room erupts with cheers and applause.

Why didn’t you do that too! I say, playfully hitting Atlas’s arm.

Luce laughs. "Yeah, come on, I would’ve paid to see that."

The boys don’t have time to answer because the honorary cheerleaders begin to chant and jump around. Max spells out school is shit with his arms, and I think I actually see steam coming from Fuller’s ears.

They’re good, I say, cheering and throwing a wadded-up napkin at them. Max and Charlie both leap up and attempt the splits in midair. It’s a hilarious fail, and they both laugh along with everyone else.

This is the dumb stuff we’re supposed to do, not burning down buildings.

Fuller is on his feet as the four boys curtsy, holding their skirts to the side. He smiles as he approaches, but it’s easy to see the irritation on his face.

All right, the fun’s over, Fuller says. Five minutes left, so hurry up.

Luce and I jump up, knowing this is our chance, leaving the boys chatting to some guys on the team.

We make our way to Fuller’s office with the supplies in my bag. He always walks around the field for the last few minutes of lunchtime, after checking the cafeteria. It wouldn’t surprise me if he sits out on his porch watching his neighbors.

We easily slip past the secretaries as they dash to the staff room for their iced coffee fix.

Luce giggles as I look over my shoulder, palm resting on the handle of Fuller’s door.

Go, I say, pushing the door open and slipping inside.

She closes the door behind us and tugs the zipper of my bag, almost bending me backward. We need to hurry, I’m already sweating, Luce says. This stuff always makes me feel like I could vomit.

Can you not pull me over while we do it? I say, twisting around and sliding the bag off my shoulder. And don’t stress, we’re supposed to do pranks like these.

It doesn’t hit the floor, thankfully, because she has hold of it, reaching in to get the water-and-glitter-filled balloons. I could only fit three in there because we’ve filled them as much as we dared. The latex is stretched to the max, almost making them completely translucent.

I take one out carefully, wincing as it bulges, threatening a heavy dose of karma.

Where are we putting these? she asks, gritting her brace-covered teeth.

One on his chair for sure.

You think he’ll sit on it?

He doesn’t need to, he just needs to pull the chair out and let it drop. It’ll explode all over this fancy rug under his desk, I say, toeing the edge of it.

She laughs. Okay, where else?

That display cabinet. We’ll balance it on the edge of a shelf and close the glass door carefully.

He’ll see it.

Doesn’t matter. Use yours. It’s darker, so he won’t see the glitter.

I place a balloon on the chair and gently roll it back under the desk. Luce puts hers on the shelf and shuts the door, holding her hand out in case she needs to catch it. I don’t bother telling her that it’ll explode all over her if it drops into her hand, because, frankly, that would be hilarious.

For the last one, I balance it on top of the bulb in his tall lamp. It’s right beside his desk, so if it bursts while he’s sitting, he’ll get wet and glittery. The balloon rests on the bulb inside the shade.

Then, because I don’t want to kill anyone, I pull the plug out of the wall so he can’t turn it on without noticing there’s a balloon up there.

Bit dangerous, Marley, Luce says.

I hold up the plug in my hand, and then let it drop to the floor. I’ve got it covered.

She nods. Okay, because that was almost a dumbass Rhett dare.

I point at her, then grab my bag. Rude. Let’s go, lunch is almost over.

She opens the door and we sneak out, leaving behind three glittery bombs and the promise of a bad day for Fuller.

Think he’ll find it funny? she asks as I close the door.

Absolutely not.

I look back over my shoulder just as Mrs. Bell and Miss Romero return to their desks, holding oversized tumblers.

We split up in the hallway. I head to math, usually absolute hell, but it’s the end of the school year and we’re playing an escape room game.

Our town is huge on memories, and the school does way more for the end of senior year, so we don’t finish as early as other schools in the state. I could be home for summer break by now. Unfair.

Up ahead, Rhett leans against the wall, blocking the door I need to go through. As if he gets to decide where I go.

You need to move, I say.

He lifts a brow, a cocky smirk on his lips. Do I?

I go to push past him, but he sidesteps so I can’t get by.

Rhett, just go away.

I know your parents wouldn’t be happy with how rude you’re being.

And I know your parents wouldn’t be happy with you being a jackass.

I meet his smug smile with my own, mirroring his contempt. He’s the one who ended our friendship, so I don’t know why he insists on messing with me. What’s the point? I’m so over his crap.

Everything okay? Fuller asks, walking the hallways like a security guard. As someone who loves order, he’s going to hate the next three weeks.

Fine, Rhett says, stepping back. Just chatting with my oldest friend.

I scoff, wanting to disagree, but I also want Fuller to go to his office and Rhett to go away.

Fuller nods and continues on his way. I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing as I watch him head to his office.

What did you do? Rhett asks, following my gaze.

Shhh.

I can’t see from here—Fuller’s office is too far away—but if things go to plan, I’ll definitely hear.

Come on, what prank did you pull? he asks, trying to sound bored. If he didn’t care about knowing, he would’ve left.

Water-and-glitter bombs.

He rolls his eyes. Are you seven?

I don’t have time to think of a witty retort because Fuller shouts out, his booming voice carrying all the way to the end of the hall.

How many are in there? Rhett asks, trying not to smile.

Two more. I wish I knew which one that was.

Go take a look.

I’m not stupid. He’ll know it was me.

There’s another shout. Rhett and I jump back just as Fuller walks out of the room. I only catch a glimpse, but he’s wet and sparkly. Ha.

Rhett rubs his mouth, his way of pretending that he’s got an itch and he’s not amused. It’s a classic Rhett move and one he should know I can see through.

I open the door to math, but before I disappear into the classroom, Rhett says, Things are about to get very interesting for you and your friends.

Whatever, I mutter, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing how nervous that makes me. I’m still on the high of Fuller and the water balloons, so I’m not really thinking about what my nemesis has planned.

He can bring it.

What’s the worst that could happen?

2

After school I leave the building with Luce. Hanging over the gate to the vegetable garden near the science block is Fuller’s rug.

Luce and I both laugh at the wet patch and the shine that makes it look like it’s from the Cullens’ house in Twilight.

He has a different shirt on, Luce says.

Yep. Mission accomplished.

I wish we’d planted a camera in there.

Next time, I reply.

We walk along the riverside, the lush trees stretching what feels like miles above my head, keeping the path in the shade.

What do you think my prank will be? Luce asks.

Who knows, I reply, my mind drifting back to what Rhett said outside math. Things are about to get interesting for me and my friends. I don’t want to worry Luce, because she will totally stress if she thinks that Rhett is going to give us the worst dares. Besides, he’ll likely only give the worst ones to me.

We’re not doing the dumb stuff, remember. Replacing the photos in Fuller’s office with ones of Taylor Swift, that’s the kind of thing we’ll stick to.

I cut her a look. Why does everyone seem to have such a short memory? You do remember how these dares have gone wrong both years?

Nudging me, she replies, No one’s forgotten, Marley. We all remember and we’re ready this year. You let Rhett get to you too often, and before you say anything, I know he winds you up.

He gets on every single one of my seven trillion nerves.

She laughs, nudging me. "It’s his superpower. But we have the last three weeks of school coming up, and I’m going to miss you guys so much. Can we try extra hard to ignore Rhett and have the best time? Please?"

As the only one with a bad feeling about this, I start to wonder if I’m just being dramatic. I mean, every school does senior pranks, right? Ours is the first I’ve heard of that really went wrong.

Sighing, I relent and say, I’ll try to lighten up.

"Try hard. Like, hard, or you’re going to regret it after graduation. Look, the door to Creepy Arthur’s creepy house is wide-open. What do you think he’s doing?"

I look across to the mountain in the distance, where Creepy Arthur lives. The river curls around his property, avoiding it as if it knows there’s something wrong with it. Set on about twenty acres of land, his huge decaying house is both stunning and, as Luce said, creepy.

Arthur is in his sixties and a total loner. No one visits him, except for his grandson, George, once a year, and he only comes into town to get supplies. He rattles around in that house, letting it slowly fall apart around him. He’s had tons of offers on it, from developers to locals wanting to renovate. He always says no…yet continues to do nothing with it.

I’d take the money and run. It’s worth a fortune.

The Wilders have offered him millions, apparently. I’m not sure what it’s worth or why they’d want it, since their house is bigger and, you know, not crumbling. But it could all be a rumor.

Most things around here are.

Do you think he’s okay? I ask, straining to see from this distance. But the only thing visible from here is the house. We have no chance of seeing through the door or any of the windows, two of which have been boarded up for the last year.

A couple of times, Arthur has disappeared. Last year it was the mailman who let the cops know because he hadn’t collected a package from his porch in two days. But it turned out that he’d just been hiking and fishing down the mountain.

I’m not going in there, so don’t even suggest it! His house is haunted, Luce says with a straight face.

I stop dead in my tracks, staring at my science-minded best friend and trying to figure out who’s taken over her body. Tell me you don’t actually believe that.

She throws her hands up. Well, I don’t know, do I? Things have happened there that can’t be explained.

Such as?

How many people have gone in there and felt that weird vibe? Like something isn’t quite right.

"That not quite right thing, Luce, is breaking and entering. You let yourself into someone’s house and you start to feel a bit paranoid. Come on, you know it’s not haunted."

A shudder visibly ripples across her body. Fine, but you have to admit the house is spooky and Arthur’s weird.

I’ll give you that. I’ve only been in there twice, once with George. He told me his grandad doesn’t care about it anymore, thinks he’s only staying to piss the Wilders off for wanting to buy him out. What do you think is going on? I’ve never seen the door left open like that.

Pass. He’s probably doing some work outside, she says, taking her phone out of her pocket at the same time we both get an alert.

Groaning, I open the group message, titled Senior Dares, my heart in my mouth.

Rhett:

It’s time seniors! Creek 9pm. U know what happens if ur not there.

We don’t, in fact, know what will happen, because he hasn’t laid out any forfeits to scare us into following through with the stupid dares. None of us want to find out, though.

Looks like it’s starting, Luce says, her tanned skin turning rather pale. She’s now stripped of her earlier confidence and enthusiasm, her dark eyes full to the brim with worry. With a place at Vanderbilt in the fall, she also has a lot to lose.

Why risk your future for some dumbass dare a juvenile delinquent has given you?

This was always coming, and since it’s Monday and we only have three weeks left, it makes sense to kick it off now.

Do you think any of the pranks Rhett has in mind are also on Fuller’s authorized list? I ask, laughing.

The sound is hollow, and I wince at how nervous I sound, unease growing in my gut like black mold.

My gut is rarely wrong.

Not a chance, she replies, shoving the phone back into her pocket. Are you going?

We start walking again, the open door to Arthur’s house forgotten. I don’t want to…but I kind of do. Do you think he actually has something on us?

It’s not like we’ve killed a person, Marley. What could he have?

She makes a solid point. The worst thing I’ve done is forgotten to reply to messages or call people back. Hardly a crime and not something I think any college would care about.

Still, we look at each other, both thinking the same thing. We should go…just to observe, she says.

And that is exactly how people get pulled into the game.

The Wilders have raised the stakes with the pranks, and that’s fine, it’s a laugh, but there is no risk to them, not with all their money. But without risk is it even fun?

Luce and I could’ve been caught in Fuller’s office earlier. It was part of the thrill. I can still feel the rush I got from sneaking in and out.

Yeah, we’ll observe, I agree. Atlas and Jesse will want to go. I think Jesse is hoping for something that he can use to mess with Rhett.

Like what?

No clue. Maybe he’ll dare us to spray-paint cars. That way we really could turn it around on him.

Paint those bunnies on his flashy car. I’d do it with my key, she adds, laughing and linking her arm through mine, though we’re practically at her house now.

See you tonight, I guess, she says, dropping my arm.

Love ya, I reply, and walk on.

• • •

The sun set a little while ago but it’s not that dark out. The sky sparkles with thousands of stars that stretch as far as I can see; it looks like someone dropped a bag of diamonds on navy silk. Or like Fuller’s rug, post glitter bomb.

It’s so pretty here, but after weeks of unrelenting sun, everything that was green is slowly turning yellow and crusty. The singed grass barely holding in there.

I make a left and walk down the valley to the creek, Arthur’s house looming in the distance. I do a double take and realize that his door is now closed, and that makes me feel a whole lot better about being out here alone.

Arthur Nelson has never done anything wrong, other than hate the Wilder family, and that hardly makes him a bad person, but the mystery surrounding him and his lack of human interaction makes people talk.

Gossip is an occupation in our town.

I don’t know what to believe. He could be a kingpin or a serial killer or a man who just wants to be left alone. Can we really blame him for not being involved in the town? A town he cofounded with Samuel Wilder, Rhett’s grandad, before he was left behind?

I take the shortcut, my calf muscles burning as I carefully walk down the steep incline. Up ahead I can hear muffled voices, like they’re speaking to me through a door. Trees loom over my head, and as I move deeper, they swallow me whole.

The brittle sticks and leaves beneath my feet crunch and snap, announcing my arrival.

There’s a strict No Open Flame warning posted.

Note to self: don’t accept any dares if matches are involved. The whole mountain would go up in smoke.

I leap over the stream