Dare Me by Eric Devine

had no way of asking her. Regardless, it seems like Alexia and I are living pretty close existences now. Except for the parents beating on each other thing.
    “Ben?”
    I look up and Ricky’s smiling, John has his perpetually confused look, and I have no idea what’s what. I start to ask, but am cut off.
    “Gentleman.”
    We turn to Principal McNeil.
    “Come with me,” he says and walks down the hall.
    “Stay cool,” Ricky mouths to us.
    I don’t know how that is possible. We follow McNeil to his office and my heart pounds and I have that terrible watery-leg sensation. This has to be about the videos. I’ve never been in trouble before, barely have an idea where McNeil’s office is after three years of being here. But Ricky does.
    We enter McNeil’s office, and Ricky and John take the only available seats, which is fine by me because I get to stand near the open window. My face has lost all blood, and if it weren’t for the cool breeze and the wall for support, I’d be on the ground. How the hell did I manage those two dares?
    “Let’s cut to the chase, boys. You know why I’ve called you in.”
    Ricky tilts his head. “No, sir, not really.” He sounds like some fifth grader, and McNeil looks like he caught a whiff of something foul.
    He looks us over, lingering on each. His gaze moves toward mine, and I try to look away. I cannot let this man examine me. He’ll read the nerves streaming, firing off messages like texts. But McNeil’s bloodshot eyes grab mine and pull.
    “Candido, what’s this I hear about the three of you informing the school about some dare?”
    I stare. It’s all I can do. I try to think of an excuse, some answer that will satisfy his question, but keep us safe. He’s being purposely vague. “Some dare”? As if he doesn’t know and hasn’t already watched both. All I can do is swallow and say, “I don’t know.”
    Ricky shifts in his seat and I feel like slamming my head against the desk. McNeil’s eyes widen. “Right. Tell me more.”
    I lean against the wall and do not look at him. I have to break his spell.
    “Mr. McNeil, you know how things are senior year. Some kids are trying to live it up, have some fun.” Ricky’s voice is smooth and deep. I’m jealous.
    McNeil reluctantly turns from me to Ricky. “Fun is not the same as risking one’s life? Hmm?”
    “You could debate that,” Ricky says, and McNeil’s face bulges. “But we won’t. I understand your point. Sir.”
    I’m holding my breath, waiting for McNeil to explode—to let loose and sound like the gates of hell have opened within his lungs. But nothing happens. He stares at Ricky and then looks out the window. “A few years ago we had a senior, Douglas Kipling, you probably don’t remember. He died right around Memorial Day.” McNeil turns back to us. “Do you know what he did?”
    Of course we do. He’s the kid that hick from the bridge was talking about. But Kipling was drunk, and a lot of people said he was trying to commit suicide.
    McNeil doesn’t wait for an answer. “I had to go out to the Gorge that day. I saw his parents, saw his body. It was one of the worst days of my life.” McNeil’s voice has dropped, as has my head. But not Ricky’s. He looks the man square in the face.
    “I understand. My cousin was friends with him. It was awful.”
    I pick my brain but cannot think of any cousin of Ricky’s that would have been in school with Doug.
    “ Awful doesn’t come close.” McNeil inhales and holds it for a moment before letting the air out his nose. It whistles at the end.
    “Sir, we don’t actually know who it is. I stumbled across the first video and just let the school know. I apologize if somehow that was against our code of conduct.” Ricky’s good; he sounds very conciliatory.
    McNeil looks from him to John and me. We both nod, and it feels like I’m back in middle school.
    “You didn’t technically break any rules, Puckman. But as you can imagine, you’ve provided