Page 3 of As You Walk On

“Wait.” I tilt my head. “What happens if I fail?”

At worst, a failed dare has included detention and being shamed by the group. Sometimes, one of us is the latest victim of #BOHSFail on Instagram. The hashtag has its own unique following—mostly Brook-Oak theater kids, students from nearbyschools. None of us have ever opted out of a dare.

But the prize has never been this large either.

Jay’s mouth curls up on the left side, the way it does when he knows he’s about to win at a round of Mario Kart.

“If you fail, then you have to wear MV High gear to our first practice after spring break.”

My spine locks, shoulders pulled up to my ears.

Mountainview High is our rival. An equally competitive college prep school on the other side of Wilder Park. We’re pretty much neck and neck in academic achievements. It’s athletics where things are imbalanced. MVH owns us in football, softball and baseball, and soccer while we continuously destroy them in basketball, swimming, volleyball, and cheerleading.

The sport that could tip the scales: track-and-field.

In two weeks, we meet in the conference finals.

Coach Devers unapologetically despises our rivals. Since her days as a track star at BOHS. Four straight years of finishing second to Mountainview in all the major events.

Not a single W against them.

If I’m caught wearing their apparel at a practice, she’ll bench me. “Support whoever you wantoutsideofmylanes,” she tells us every year. Coach is strict about her rules. If dress code is broken, that means no conference finals, where a dozen or so college scouts will be in the stands. As the anchor of our 4x400 relay team, this is my chance to stand out. Senior season is too late to chase scholarships from the top colleges. I’d be missing an opportunity to hit an asterisk on Dad’s plans.

I can hear his voice in my head:All we have to do is followThe Plan. Stay focused. Your bright, unstoppable future is right there...

“Damn!” Darren’s howl pulls me back to the moment. “That’s... harsh.”

Jay shrugs listlessly. “Our boy Theo can handle it.”

I purse my lips. We’re both good at this—ego-boosting. While playing video games, during practices, before a dare.

“Coach will slaughter him,” Darren notes.

Yes, thanks for confirming my worst fears, D. In our group, he’s the Jiminy Cricket. Our conscience. The “hold up, this might get us arrested” voice of reason.

Every squad needs one.

“She’ll think it’s ajoke,” Jay insists, laughing. “Wearing MVH gear right before we crush them at finals? She’ll send pictures to that dick-breath Mountainview coach.” He turns back to me. “Besides, how hard is it to ask a guy to prom?”

Very, actually, a concept Jay will never comprehend.

My eyes flicker over to Christian.

Despite being out since I was fourteen, I’ve neverapproacheda crush before. But something about the way the sun brightens the brown of Christian’s eyes, I’m certain of this:

I want him to be the first.

I want his laughter against my lips as we kiss at prom.

“I’m in,” I say.

Darren nearly flails out of his seat. Jay’s eyebrows rise slowly like he’s simultaneously shocked and impressed. I don’t know why. Making bad choices is in my genes.

Exhibit A: Theodore Jamal Wright, my full government name.

For seventeen years I’ve lived with the knowledge that my name’s an amalgam of Dad’s favorite childhood TV character—Theodore Huxtable—and the actor who portrayed him—Malcolm-Jamal Warner. Clearly, tragic decision-making is inherited.

“Just...” I whisper, feeling the adrenaline tripling in my system. “Gimme a sec.”

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