Truths and Dares

by Amity Hope

  “What would be the point of that?” I asked in frustration. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what Mom was like, I did to some extent. But I’d never really thought about how deeply her selfishness had affected me. Or Dad. She was the one that had chosen to leave. Dad and I had our lives ripped apart because of it. I had wanted to believe that she wanted me around because she was a loving and involved parent. That wasn’t to say that I didn’t think Mom loved me. I knew she did, in her own way. But was she involved? No. She never had been. “She’s made it perfectly clear that I’m staying here whether I like it or not. But I’m supposed to be miserable here just to make her feel good?”

  Dustin laughed but it held more sarcasm than humor. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  I sat up, rubbing my temple with my free hand.

  “I don’t want to talk about Mom anymore. I do miss you though,” I said. “You should visit over spring break. Dad would be so excited.” Dustin typically stayed with Dad for a few weeks in the summer. I knew Dad would be thrilled as well as surprised if Dustin came over spring break.

  “What? And leave sunny, warm California for the frigid backwoods of Wisconsin? Isn’t that kind of a backwards way to spend spring break? Usually people search out the sun. They don’t try to escape it,” he teased.

  “You have warm sunny days all the time. Besides, you could go snowboarding,” I bribed. “And spend some time with your dad and your favorite sister in the whole wide world.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he conceded.

  “You’ll really think about it? Or you’re just going to pretend to think about it to get me to drop it?” I pressed.

  “I’ll really think about it,” he assured me.

  I didn’t really believe him but there wasn’t a lot I could do about that.

  We talked for another hour and then he insisted he needed to tackle some homework.

  I didn’t have any homework. Our teachers had gone easy on us our first week back. However, Mrs. Perrault had given us a list of foods that we would be making. I was regretting boasting about my cooking skills to Seth. What if everything we made ended up flopping? He’d made it clear that he needed a decent grade. I’d essentially assured him that it wouldn’t be a problem. After a few days with Mrs. Perrault, I wasn’t so sure. As I sat on my bed thinking it over, I decided to try a few of the recipes at home. While I didn’t have the exact recipes she would be using, I was sure a substitute would at least give me the practice that I needed.

  With that thought, I headed downstairs to search through some cookbooks to look for a popover recipe.

  *****

  Partnering myself with Seth for our cooking class might have been one of the best moves I ever made. It was impossible to cook in pairs without talking. By the middle of the second week, we’d even moved on to occasional joking. Our first effort—the popovers—had been a success. Our second effort, a lemon meringue pie, turned out just fine even though I’d had my doubts. We cooked at least once a week. That explained the pretty large student fee that was attached to the class.

  Overall my classes were going fine. Except for Trig. My dislike of Trig was even greater than my dislike of split ends and decaf. I often found myself wishing that Dustin was around. He was a mathematical genius but that gene had hop-scotched right over me. I was obsessing about the assignment as I walked out of school. Therefore, admittedly, I wasn’t really paying attention to my surroundings. I was simply moving with the flow of people spilling from the building.

  If I had been paying a little more attention, I probably would’ve managed to stay on my feet. A kid, a freshman judging by his smaller stature, swung his backpack around, trying to hoist it up to his shoulder. The enormous, book-laden backpack smacked into the back of my knee. I didn’t even have time to flail my arms. I fell to the ground like a brick. I was sure at that moment that I had been a wretched person in a former life. Maybe I’d kicked a baby or strangled some kittens. Whatever it was, karma was determined to knock me on my ass.

  Literally.

  Once again.

  I hit the ground so hard it knocked the breath right out of my lungs. For just a moment I was stunned. Then a shooting pain bolted up my calf.

  “Harper,” Seth said as he appeared over me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. I started to pull myself into a sitting position. His hands slid around me, helping me up part way. He knelt behind me, letting me brace my back against his front. “That was not my fault!”

  I wasn’t even wearing my slippery boots!

  “I know. I wish I would’ve seen that punk’s face. If I knew who it was, I’d make him come back here to give you a proper apology.” Seth scowled as he scanned over the parking lot that held the busses. That was the direction the kid had raced off in. Probably he was just worried about missing his ride.

  My butt was getting cold so I made a move to get to my feet. Pain jolted me right back to the ground.

  “What’s wrong?” Seth asked.

  I bit my lip for a second before saying, “I think I landed on my ankle. Or twisted it or something.” I wiggled it around, testing it out, trying to shake off the initial wave of pain. I glanced around. The flow of students had thinned to a trickle. A few people were staring but when they caught me looking at them with raised eyebrows, they scattered.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t move it,” he suggested.

  “It’s fine,” I said. It was already feeling better. I made another attempt at getting up. This time, with Seth’s help, I managed just fine. He still had a grip on my elbow so I wiggled my foot experimentally. I winced when another bolt of pain shot up my leg.

  “I don’t think you should walk on it,” he said.

  I looked at him like he’d lost his mind. If I didn’t walk on it, how was I going to get off the school’s sidewalk? I sure wasn’t expecting him to carry me. I took a tentative step and grimaced. I took another step and realized I could manage as long as I didn’t bend it. The result was an awkward limp. At least I was able to move along, so I wasn’t about to complain.

  I also wasn’t going to complain about having Seth’s arm around me. He’d plucked my backpack out of my grip. It was slung over his right shoulder with his own. His left arm was firmly around my waist.

  Butterflies that had been hibernating for years were quickly coming to life again.

  “You don’t have to help me,” I said out of guilt. I was sure I could manage just fine on my own. As much as I was enjoying having Seth this close, I didn’t want to take advantage of him.

  “Yes I do,” he said. “Because if you slip on the ice again I’ll feel bad if I just watch it happen.”

  That was all of the argument I needed. I continued to limp to the parking lot. He continued to guide me. While he’d been friendly enough in our cooking class, we hadn’t really talked much outside of it. He usually at least smiled my way when I walked into second hour. If I saw him in the hallway, he always acknowledged me.

  I decided he must be over whatever issue he’d had with me when I’d first arrived. Or maybe I’d overreacted. As I remembered his blatant snarkiness, I decided that I hadn’t overreacted. He’d definitely had an issue with me. I wanted to ask him what his problem had been. I didn’t because I didn’t want to rattle the foundation of what felt like a pretty shaky friendship.

  “My Jeep is over there,” I said as I pointed to it.

  We came to a stop and Seth glanced at it with a frown. Then his gaze swung to his truck, on the other side of the lot. Finally, his eyes settled on me.

  “Can you drive?” he glanced down. Now that we’d come to a stop, I was standing on one foot, giving my right foot a rest.

  Could I drive? Interesting question. I tentatively twirled my foot around to see if the range of motion had improved in the last few minutes. When I gasped he shook his head.

  “You’re not driving,” he said.

  “Gabby and Alyssa are staying after today.” They were both on the yearboo
k committee. They’d asked me to join but I wasn’t sure that everyone else would be as welcoming as my friends. Not this late in the year, when the majority of the work was already done. “I could go back inside and wait for them to finish up.”

  “Or,” Seth said, “you could ride with me.”

  “You’re going home? I thought you’d have practice.”

  “We have late practice most nights because the younger kids practice right after school. Tonight’s practice is going to suck because it’s really late.”

  I nodded because I had known that the younger kids got the ice first, I’d just forgotten. “You really don’t mind giving me a ride?”

  “Nah, I think I owe you,” he said as we started toward his truck.

  “What about in the morning?”

  “I’ll pick you up.” When we got to his passenger door, he opened it for me and helped me in.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” I asked when he hopped into the driver’s seat. His attitude was such a complete turnaround from two weeks ago. It felt a bit like emotional whiplash. Sure, he’d been nice enough during class. I had wondered if that was only because with our grade on the line, he almost had to be.

  “It’s fine, really.”

  I wasn’t going to argue any more than I already had.

  We drove in silence for nearly half the ride home. I’d gotten comfortable with him as we discussed who was going to measure out what ingredients. Yet things were still nowhere near the same as they used to be between us.

  “How do you like Personal Finance?” I asked.

  He sliced a look my way and made a humorous face. “It’s the easiest class I have. I wasn’t expecting that. So I guess that means I like it okay.”

  “Same,” I agreed. So far, we’d been given pretend jobs with pretend paychecks and pretend households to manage.

  “It’s a good thing the class is pretty self-explanatory though. Listening to Mr. Hendricks talk is like listening to elevator music.”

  I laughed because he was right. The man droned on and on and on some more.

  “What’s your favorite class?” Seth asked.

  “Our cooking class,” I said immediately. “I love to cook.”

  “Yeah, it’s not so bad,” he said. “When I found out Mrs. Larson was gone, I was worried. But Mrs. Perrault hasn’t been too tough. So far, anyway. Maybe I’ll actually learn something. Maybe I’ll even get around to making something that doesn’t have to go in the microwave.”

  I turned slightly in my seat to face him. “What?”

  He shook his head and his face clouded over. Clearly, he had let that slip. I didn’t think he was going to explain but he finally did.

  “Dad hired a housekeeper after Mom left. Sharon comes on Mondays and she also cooks for the whole week.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “We take out whatever food is labeled for that night and reheat it. Otherwise, we’re on our own. I think I’ve gone through more boxes of cereal than anyone I know.”

  I thought about that for a second. Reheated dinners taken out of the fridge? That would be like eating leftovers. Every single night. I could almost relate to that.

  “I bet I can count on one hand the number of meals my mom cooked after we moved. She worked twelve, sometimes thirteen hour days. She even went in on the weekends when she wasn’t scheduled. For the longest time I either had takeout or sandwiches. Finally, I decided I should probably learn how to cook. So I did. Luckily I like it because I’ve done almost all of the cooking the last few years.”

  Seth opened his mouth, as if he was going to say something but then he stopped himself.

  “What?” I pressed.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  I fought back a sigh. Just when I thought things were taking another step closer to normal, he was backing away again. I was surprised when he thought better of it and asked me anyway.

  “Did your mom seriously work that much?”

  I nodded. “Most of the time.”

  “If she was gone all the time, then why in the hell did she make you move?”

  “I don’t think she realized at first how demanding the job would be.” That was part of it, anyway. “I think the more she worked, the more it became expected of her. Finally, it just felt like she was working all the time.”

  “So what did you do? When she was gone all the time?”

  I thought about that for a minute. “The first few months were really bad. I missed everyone here. I missed our house. Dustin had just left for college. I missed him and I missed my dad. I had no friends for a long time. I spent a lot of time by myself.”

  Being the new girl when most girls already had their cliques established wasn’t an experience I’d wish on anyone. If I hadn’t made the cheerleading squad I probably never would’ve made any friends at all. Even then, they hadn’t accepted me right away. It took a long time before I felt like I fit in. There had been no denying that when it had come down to it, Madeline and Libby were best friends. I had always been the tagalong.

  “Sounds like it sucked.”

  I made a little sound of agreement. “It did. I mean, it got better.” I paused for a minute. “And right about the time it did, Mom told me I was moving again.”

  “You didn’t want to move back here?”

  I shook my head. “Would you want to move halfway through senior year?”

  “Yeah, I guess probably not.”

  “I mean, yes, I have friends here. But I didn’t know if they’d be happy to see me or not.” I cringed. I hadn’t meant the last part the way it sounded. Yet, it was the truth. I hadn’t known what to expect.

  I was about to try to backtrack but Seth cut me off as he pulled into my driveway.

  “Try to keep your foot up. And put ice on it,” he said as he opened his door and hopped out. He rounded the truck to my side and pulled the door open. I let him guide me out because I figured it was easier than arguing. Again, he looped his arm around my waist. He led me to my front door.

  I pulled out my keys and let us inside. He stood in our foyer looking around before his eyes finally settled on me.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I finally said because I had to say something to fill the awkward silence.

  “No problem. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “See you,” I said as he slipped out the door.

  CHAPTER 8

  The next day I left the house with my backpack slung over my shoulder, a travel mug in each hand, and a container of pumpkin bread nestled into the crook of my arm. I was still aware of a sliver of pain if I stepped on my ankle wrong. But for the most part, it was okay.

  As I reached the passenger door of Seth’s truck, I realized I wasn’t going to be able to let myself in. He shook his head but he was smiling as he reached across and pushed the door open.

  “Here,” I said as I handed him one of the mugs.

  He took it and I was able to climb inside.

  “That’s for you,” I said as I pulled my door shut. “And so is this.” I lifted the container of pumpkin bread.

  He crinkled his face at the travel mug. “I don’t really drink coffee.”

  “It’s not just coffee, it’s cappuccino. I mean, okay, it’s the instant stuff that comes in a canister but I’m kind of hooked on it. Besides, you said you’d be getting home late last night. I thought maybe you could use the caffeine boost.”

  He took a tentative sip and made a face. “Yeah, it’s not bad. Thanks.”

  I nestled my backpack onto the floor between my feet. I noticed he was eyeing the plastic container I’d placed on my lap. He glanced up, raised his eyebrows at me and grinned. I pulled the lid off and handed it to him. “It’s all yours.”

  He took the container from me as he backed out of the driveway. I gave him a few minutes to eat before I started talking.

  “So, I was thinking,” I said as he popped the last bite of bread into his mouth. He looked at me waiting for me to go on. “Some of the recipes that Mrs. Perrault is going
to have us try, I think they might be kind of difficult.”

  “How difficult?” he wanted to know. “Difficult for me or difficult for you?”

  I grimaced. “For both of us. I was looking ahead at the foods on the syllabus.”

  He sighed. “I don’t need this right now. If I’d known this class was going to be hard, I would’ve taken something else. Something I was at least interested in. If this class drags my GPA down…” He faded off but his implication was clear.

  “I know. You mentioned that. But I have an idea.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  I fidgeted with a loose string on my mitten. “I found recipes for some of the dishes that we’re making. Chicken fricassee is next.”

  He frowned at me. “Chicken what?”

  “Fricassee. I found a recipe for it in one of my mom’s old cookbooks. I thought maybe I could try making it tomorrow night. Maybe you’d want to come over and we could try making it together? Even if it’s not the same recipe, it should be close.”

  He cast a dubious glance my way. I felt my heart plummet down to my stomach. I’d come up with the idea last night. I hadn’t been sure that I’d have the nerve to bring it up. Now that I had, I was wishing that I hadn’t.

  “You know what? Never mind. It was a silly idea. I mean, I already added everything to the shopping list so Dad will probably be picking everything up tonight. I’ll probably make it anyway because it’s the weekend and I’ll have time to mess around with it. I can ask Dad if he wants to have Paula over. I can make it for them.”

  I stopped rambling and glanced at Seth again. We were just pulling into the school parking lot.

  He ground out a sigh. “It has to be better than another frozen pizza.”

  “Really? We can have Dad and Paula taste test.”

  “Sure. Why not? What time do you want me to come over?” he asked as he shut off his truck.

  “Six?”

  A knock on the window made me jump in my seat. I turned to see Brent smiling through the glass. He waved and then backed up so I could get out.