4.10: Dare Ya

   "Ya know what we should do?" Blake mused.
   "What?" Hunter curiously cackled, from the top bunk.
   "Prank Trevor." Of course my brothers, both evil, one insane and a coward, the other a genius daredevil, thought this was the best idea of the decade, if not the century.
    "That's awesome! How...?"
    "Uh..."
    "Oo! I know, we'll tell 'im we need money for ice cream, right?"
    "Yeah. And. That's not a prank."

    "I know. The junkyard near the school isn't exactly tough to break into. We'll dare him to steal something."
    "That's not a prank."
    "So?"
    "Will you do it? I mean, tell him everything."
    "You're scared you'll get in trouble."
    "No....I...no. You're stupid."
    "I'm not failing third grade! You're a scaredy cat."
    "Am not!"
    "Am too! Bet you couldn't even spell scaredy cat."
    "Can you? It's S-A-R-C-E...D-E-E."
    "Nuh-uh. Besides, my plans never fail. We'll be fine." Spoiler alert, they weren't. They're probably still grounded. You can't exactly fault an eight year old, though. Their logic isn't in place yet. I'm still not sure if Blake's is.
     "Fine. When?"
     "Tomorrow after school. It's Friday, so they close early and nobody will see us. Or him." They always where closer than I was with them. I was far from a loner; I had a wide circle of friends, but pranks didn't appeal to me like it did for them. I never fit in; even though Hunter and I were almost identical, Blake's personality matched better. I was the odd triplet out.
     "Hey guys." I came in smiling.
     "There's monsters under your bed." Hunter quickly greeted me. Blake nodded in agreement; he was only the sidekick, he had nothing of his own, just copies of Hunter.
      "Monsters aren't real."
      "I saw one." I guess I should have figured out that they never had good intentions. Not hearing their conversation prior to my arrival in the room left me clueless; something that would end up leaving me on the ground in agony.
      "Yeah. We saw one." Blake readily backed him out.
      "Right." I leaned over, peeking underneath to see if childhood fears, monsters, existed underneath there. Nothing,  other than my right shoe and some dust mom would probably- well, never (she hated cleaning) get around to vacuuming.
     "Haha! Made you look." Hunter laughed, concluding that me taking the two and a half seconds looking underneath the bed was the most hilariously thing. Ever. In the history of everything, including the worlds best comedian whose name probably depends on your opinion.
     "Goodnight." I rolled my eyes, climbing underneath the covers. Clearly, though I prefer not to brag, I was a tad more mature than them. Just a tad. Course, that didn't help me much during the prank.

At the Junkyard...

    "Should we be doing this?" I asked.
    "Why shouldn't we?" Hunter asked.
    "Yeah. Why shouldn't we?" Blake followed him with an unnecessary comment that was repeating and conforming Hunter's statement. 
     "Because the sign says closed after four pm and nobody under eighteen is suppose to go with an adult." I pointed to the sign. My brother claims to be a genius, but apparently you don't have to read to take an IQ test.
     "But we need money."
     "Yeah. For ice cream." Blake said. Hunter looked at him as if he was trying to say 'Dude. Really? We all know that it wasn't necessary to say that.'

     "Considering doing chores?" Honestly, Chases and Steven probably would bankrupt mom and dad if they got paid more than two-fifty a chore. That was probably more than the kid who made the paper towels they used to clean up the messes that they got paid to clean up, even though they made them. Ten minutes of explanations of why chores where ridiculous, Hunter was picking the lock to get into the building and I was sneaking in.
     "RUUUUUN!" I heard Blake scream, just as I turned around to face them.
     "I can hear you. Seriously." They where long gone, though. They're probably laughing like insanity a little bit down the road.
     "Hello?" I called out, making sure no one was here. I wasn't sure if I wanted someone to be here, giving me a reason to back out, or if I wanted the area abandoned. Nobody answered me, unsurprisingly. 
     I crept out the glass sliding doors, towards the scrap. If I was smart, I would have just took the desk lamp and run. It would have been more noticeable than scrap that was verging on the stage of unmissable, but it would have gotten me out of there. Maybe the old inventing textbooks someone left to collect dust on the bookshelf would be a decent steal.

    I looked around at the piles of junk. Car parts, tin cans, pipes, and everything metal that were no longer usable scattered the lawns. I sighed, staring at the high piles. I would have to find something to steal. Something, something, something. I let my mind repeat the word as I scanned the piles.
    A smaller pile caught my eye. It was on the verge of tipping, but was wide enough so I could easily find something. I carefully picked up sheets of metal, discarding them. I needed something of substances. Something that would make Hunter and Blake go into shock so badly, they would never, ever ask me again and attempt a childish dare again. A rusted pipe was on top of an old metal slinky. I quickly grabbed the pipe, throwing in into the pile behind me. It teetered perilously for a second, as my breath caught, then stopped short. I glanced up, checking on it. An old bike tire was peaking out from the middle of the pile.
    It-It was a full bike! I could see the gleam in the fading light. This would impress them. Forget a slinky- I had a bike! It may be rusted to pieces and there was no way you could ride it ever, but it was a bike! Excitement filled me as I took a step onto an old metal box. My flip-flop flimsily flapped on my feet, failing fearsomely to provide the perfect protection for my (not nearly perfect) feet.
    My hand grasped another pipe, pulling myself up so I was now three feet off the ground. The tire was so close- just an inch, or twelve, away from my hand. I could practically feel it. I shuffled my feet around, trying to find steady footing.
    "Owww!" I screamed. I felt the metal sheets slice into my legs, as the blood seeped into my shorts. I tried grasping for my leg, to cover the deep gash. My hands where no longer securing my position, as I tumbled down from my perch, onto the cold, hard dirt. The lights of day blurred as I felt my head colliding with a piece of piping. My eyes shuttered shut quickly, as the pain of bloodied wounds filled my breaths. I was losing my consciousness, one millisecond at a time. My head lolled back; I was out. Gone.
  
Meanwhile...

   "Dinner's ready!" Dad called out. The table was already full; everyone knew it was. With me still lost in my mind knocked senseless at the junkyard, hopefully it wouldn't turn into my graveyard, there was no need for someone to pull up the mismatched plastic chair from my room that was a horrendous yellow.
    "What...is it?" Steven asked.
    "Chase made it." Mom helpfully said. She glanced at the burnt monstrosity- Chase's Home Ec 100 (because he wasn't good enough for 101) was haunting us all at dinner time. 
     "And it's edible?" Hunter chuckled, his witty remark was soon followed by a forgettable repeat by his parrot- excuse me, our brother Blake.
     "Yes, but the bananas on your bedsheets you'll be seeing shortly because you're sent to your room without dinner aren't."
      "Ohhh! Burnnn, Holly one, Hunter my man zero." Chase said.
      "Thank you, Chase." Holly smiled. She loved getting their approval; it seemed like something she, as their step-mother, needed to be constantly earning.
       "Hehehe!" Blake giggled, sounding like a creepy wind up doll that girls brought to Show' n' Tell constantly.
        "Care to share, Blake?" Dad asked.
        "Nooooooooope." He dragged his words out way past what they needed to be. It was an aggravating habit of his that wouldn't ever go away.
      "How was your day?"
      "Like Hunter's."
    "How was Hunter's day?" He was greeted by silence. Blake wasn't saying anymore.
     "Honey," Mom said. "Did Trevor come home?"
    "I don't- no."  He glanced around the room, making sure he wasn't missing something. "Boys." Turned to Hunter and Blake. The PI didn't take long to crack the case. Where's Trevor?"
     "My evil scheme! He has fallen for it!" Hunter squealed.
     "Where is he?"
    "Not telling!"
    "I swear to the effing- HUNTER. I know you. Is Trevor okay?"
   "He's robbing the junkyard. We told him to." He idiotically owned up to the scheme.
   "WHAT?!" Mom shrieked, her chair flying to the moon when she bolted up. "I'm getting my purse- we're going to the junkyard. Chase, Steven, watch your brothers. They shouldn't be aloud to leave the house until forever, so it should be easy." She dashed out the doors, pulling dad behind her.
      Moments later, I could hear their footsteps- or I imagine I could, if I wasn't passed out covered in dried blood that had ruined my clothes and drained my veins. Mom was screaming and crying; tears glistened on her face in the moonlight. Dad would be frantically pacing the grounds, searching for his son. Mom found me. She say my blood and her heart nearly gave out from the scene. Dad picked me up, as they rushed me to the car. It was screams of how to get to the hospital and which one was nearer.
     The bright white lights burst into my eyes, as the smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils. I was in the hospital gown, being...well, I didn't know the medical terms for it.If an eight year old did, they where probably a prodigy. Or obsessed with medical thingies. I'm only eight; I deserve a break.

Two Days Later...

   "You alright, hon?" Mom walked into the bedroom, holding a storybook.

   "I'm okay." I replied, not really. I felt weird. I lost a lot of blood and broke my leg in two places when I fell. The concussion wasn't serious, but I was to avoid any physical activity and rest for the next week.
    "They're cleaning." They. She could barely even glance at Blake and Hunter since what happened, much less speak their names aloud. "Want me to read you a story?" she held up the book, smiling.
     "Yes, please." I answered, glancing at the cover. My favorite story, the one about the fireman who saves everyone.
     "Once upon a time," She began. Her voice was elaborate; it was deep during the fireman's role and soft during the lady who he saved. I yawned, growing tired. It was only seven-thirty, but I was being kept of pain medication to reduce the swelling of several injuries.
    "Mom." I quietly whispered in between yawns. "I wanna be a fireman."
    "You'll be a great one." She replied; I slid off to sleep within an instant. She leaned over, kissing the t op of my head and pulling the covers up around me.
    She stood up, placing the unfinished story on top of the toy chest. I would read it when I woke up, or she would read it to me tomorrow night. I began dreaming of yellow jackets and red hats; a bright red engine whisking away to the site of the crime. I could do this. I could be a fireman. The lights flickered off and I heard the door quietly shut. My dreams where mine, in the complete darkness, and everything was left up to me.

.