Page 21

Twenty-One

Before

September 2nd

I turn on my heel and stalk away from the fire pit, toward the lockbox at the bottom of the stairs. Fury radiates off me in waves. I punch in the code and wrench the little door open, grabbing my dad’s boat keys off the hook inside.

“Your phone is in the house,” I yell over my shoulder. “Go get it yourself, you hateful bitch.”

I don’t have any patience left, and nothing good can come of me staying within a hundred feet of her, especially now that there’s no audience to keep us both in check. The last thing my dad needs is a late-night phone call asking him to come pick me up after assaulting some trespassing urchin.

The yard spins around me as I stalk toward the boat dock.

Claire calls my name, but I don’t stop.

She’s a toxin. A goddamned blight on my life. I swear she has some kind of mental radar for anyone feeling even an ounce of happiness or excitement. She senses it, she appears, and she blows it up. I’m sick to fucking death of her.

Halfway down the dock I stagger to the left and correct myself by grabbing the bow of the boat. I crouch to grab one of the lines holding it to the dock and start to undo the knot.

I hear footsteps on the planks behind me and move faster.

“Brooke, don’t do it,” Claire says.

“Fuck you.” I start unhooking the second rope.

She leans over my back and tries to snatch the boat keys from my hand, but I jerk them away from her and keep untying the boat.

“Brooke,” she says, louder now. “You’re too drunk to drive, by land or sea. Now give me the keys.”

I scowl and reel on her. “Okay, Little Miss Four-Shots-at-a-Time. Why don’t you mind your own fucking business for once and fuck off. I wouldn’t need the boat at all if it weren’t for you.”

She throws up her hands. “Fine! You stay on shore and I’ll grab my phone and leave right now. Just don’t get on the boat. Please, it’s dangerous.”

Dangerous? I throw my head back and laugh, moving to the last tie. “You’re so full of shit, Claire! Don’t talk like you give a single fuck about my safety. All you care about is yourself.”

Instead of pleading again, she lunges for me, arms stretched out for the keys. I hold them behind my back and shove her off me. She trips to the edge of the dock and narrowly avoids going into the water. The second she’s regained her footing, she’s right back in my face, twisting my arm to keep me close so she can reach the key chain dangling from my fist. The little plastic flotation device on the key ring slams into my wrist and I grit my teeth at the pain and kick her in the shin.

Claire shrieks and someone sits up in the boat, scaring the fuck out of both of us.

“What’s going on?” Jena slurs, looking around, still clutching what appears to be a now empty bottle of Malibu.

So that’s where she went.

Claire swears under her breath and wheels to face me again. “Brooke, you can’t do this. Especially not with Jena onboard. It’s too dangerous. You both could get seriously hurt.”

I bark out a laugh. “Now you care about Jena too? That’s hilarious! You tried to sabotage her relationship with your hateful drinking game and now you’re suddenly so concerned .”

“ No fighting, fighting, fight—” Jena sings. That last one turns into a yawn.

“Brooke, I mean it. That was all rumors and nonsense, but this is actually dangerous. Someone could get really hurt.” Her eyes flicker toward the open expanse of water at my back with a fear I’m not used to seeing in her eyes.

“Don’t pretend you have a conscience, Claire. It’s too late for that. You ruin everything you touch, infecting everyone around you with your own special brand of misery. It’s hateful and I’m sick to death of you.”

And with that, I untie the remaining line and jump over the side of the boat. The impact of my landing is enough to push us further from the dock. In a few minutes, I’ll be in the middle of the lake with my only real friend in this world, and Claire won’t be able to reach me anymore. At least for tonight.

I put the key in the ignition and reach for the throttle. I’m almost free of her.