Page 6

Six

Now

Something else happened at that party,” Brandon screams, fighting against an increasing number of classmates trying to pull him through the gate. “There’s no way she’d go near that water!”

I feel sand under my feet, and I know, logically, I’m at the coast, but my mind has teleported back six months to a long wooden dock with nothing but black lake water beyond.

“You’re lying!” he shouts, his voice muffled by an arm, then a shoulder. “And I won’t rest until the whole world knows what really happened!”

Then he’s gone in a tumble of limbs and grunts, as they all disappear into the shadows along the side of the house.

I’m weirdly detached from my body. It’s like I’m watching this happen to someone else. But at the same time, I have this overwhelming urge to throw up. I try to control my face, smooth my expression into a mixture of shock and pity, but all I can think is escape .

I slip around people, hightailing it for the house. I need a bathroom or a closet or a fucking pantry. A space with walls and a door where I can be alone and gather my bearings.

Away from all the stares.

A hand slips into mine like a lifeline, and Jena’s perfectly chrome-manicured fingernails dig into my flesh as she gives a squeeze. “You need a minute?”

“Desperately.”

She nods, brushing her braids over her shoulder with her free hand. “I’ll try and get everyone talking about something else. You take a minute and I’ll come check on you, okay? I’m sorry he keeps coming for you like this.”

My response is automatic, monotone. “It’s okay. He’s grieving.”

“He’s an asshole.”

That too.

Jena leaves me on the porch, and everyone parts to let me inside. I see as many sympathetic looks as accusing stares. The whispers reach me no matter how hard I try to block them out.

“I heard that party was sketch.”

“What does he mean? I thought it was a boat crash?”

“Maybe something else happened?”

“There’s no way. Her dad is like a judge or something.”

“She looks like she could bury a body and then get an A on a midterm that same afternoon.”

I all but rip the French door off its hinges and burst inside. The group of seniors congregating in the living room turn away from the TV to stare at me in surprise. For a second, the only sound in the room is the CrimeFlx true crime documentary they’re watching. The screen flashes with a dramatized reenactment of some girl lying in a ditch in the woods.

I affix a smile to my face. They probably have no idea what happened outside, so there’s no sense in giving them any more gossip fuel. I wave and accept a few lingering Yale congratulations and look for the bathroom. A short hallway stretches out beside the kitchen. I look for the bathroom, but the only door that doesn’t open to a bedroom is closed and locked. It sounds like someone’s hooking up in there.

FML. Maybe I should make a run for the Subaru and get the hell out of here. Jena could probably catch a ride with someone else—

“Brooke, hey.”

I turn and find Beau right behind me. His floppy blond curls sit in a mess atop his head. His smile looks a little strained, and I can guess why. He was always a big fan of Claire’s, and her brother crashing his party like this is probably a significant downer.

He looks like a golden retriever that’s been kicked.

“I’m so sorry about what happened back there,” he says, quiet enough that the people in the living room can’t hear him. “If I had any idea Brandon would get wind of the party, I would have warned you or had someone watch for him or something. I’m so sorry he did that.”

I wave him off. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known he’d show up. It’s a public beach, right? I just need a minute and I’ll be fine.”

He glances at the closed door and back to me. “Yeah, of course. Try the bathroom in the big bedroom. Nobody should be in there.”

I try not to show my surprise, but I’m floored that this shack has more than one bathroom. I follow him down the hall to the last room on the left. He walks toward what looks like a closet door and flips on the light. The world’s smallest bathroom waits on the other side.

Whatever. It’ll do.

I slip past him with a grateful smile and close the door.

The second I’ve locked it behind me, I’m on the floor. I don’t remember sinking down. Maybe I just dropped. One second I’m standing with my hand on the doorknob, and the next I’m gripping the ugly teal bath mat with both of my fists and sobbing into my knees.

I’m so stupid. I knew coming to this party would be a huge mistake, and I did it anyway. If anyone back home gets wind of Brandon and me having an “altercation” at the beach, they’ll have a field day with it, and any bad press right now could very well cost my dad his promotion. Yale is one of many goals for our family. Until my father gets that job, I haven’t finished making up for September, and tonight could have cost us everything.

When am I going to stop making stupid mistakes?

I let my guard down, and look what happened. No matter what I do, no matter how good I am, no matter what I achieve, it’s forever eclipsed by the past.

As long as I’m stuck in Oregon, I’ll always be the one who threw that party, and Claire will always be the eternal victim . The golden ray of light who never did anything wrong in her whole life—because nobody wants to tell the truth once someone’s gone.

And the truth is, Claire Heck was a colossal bitch and what happened was her own fault.

Whether Brandon Heck wants to accept it or not.

The last time I saw him was after Claire’s memorial service. He stood in a solemn receiving line with his parents. I made a point to stay in the very back, out of the way. I wanted to skip it altogether, but my dad said that was out of the question. We attended as a family.

“Goodwins don’t hide,” he told me as we got in the car. “Stand tall.”

Brandon spotted me right away. I felt his glare from across the room. I locked eyes with him for a millisecond and I’ve regretted it ever since. The hatred there imprinted on my mind. I fled as soon as I could without drawing attention, but he followed me to the parking lot, screaming that this was my fault. My dad had to threaten to press harassment charges to make him back up and allow us to drive away.

All these months later, he still looks at me the same way.

I sit up and try to wipe the tears from my face.

I’m okay. It’ll be okay. As soon as I’m at Yale, none of this can touch me anymore.

I’ll make sure of it.

I force myself to get off the floor and splash water on my cheeks, wiping smears of makeup from beneath my eyes. I dry my face and stare at myself in the toothpaste-splattered mirror. God, I look like shit. My eyes are puffy, and my makeup is fucked. As if I needed another excuse to go home.

As soon as I find Jena, I’m out of here.

I take a deep breath, and as I reach for the doorknob, someone knocks from the other side.

Speaking of Jena…

“I’m okay, babe,” I say, opening the door. “You don’t have to worry—”

I stop short.

Not Jena.

Dylan stands in front of me, one forearm braced on the doorframe. “What if I want to worry?”

A blush blossoms across my face.

Oh god, I called him babe . “Sorry, I thought you were Jena.”

“Clearly.” He grins like this is the funniest thing that’s happened all night, but the amusement quickly slips away. “I came to check on you. Are you okay?”

His concern is so intense. I love it. “I’ll probably live. Is he gone?”

“Yeah. We all watched to make sure he didn’t double back.”

That’s slightly comforting. At least he won’t jump me on my way to the car. “Thank you. I don’t think I could deal with running into him again.”

He takes a step back, dropping his arm. “Brandon was seriously out of line. I hope you know that.”

I nod. “That whole family has lost so much, you know? I’d probably act the same way if I were in Brandon’s shoes. They need someone to blame.”

“Blame, sure. Attack? No.”

I shrug. “I’ll be gone soon enough, and then there’ll be a cool three thousand miles between me and Brandon Heck.”

“And everyone else.”

“Except you.”

He stares me down. “Except me.”

Jena appears in the bedroom doorway, and her eyes widen. She starts to slide away, but Dylan spots her. Another moment gone.

“Sorry!” she says. “I was coming to check on you and make sure you know what time it is. I don’t want you to be home late.”

I turn back to Dylan. “I have a midnight curfew.”

He holds out an arm, gesturing for me to go ahead of him. “I’ll walk you out.”

Having Dylan at my side is an unexpected save. Nobody would dare say anything about Claire or Brandon in front of Dylan—who is objectively the person most hurt by her accident outside of her family. If Dylan is okay with me, everyone else has to at least keep their mouth shut until we’re gone.

Jena steps outside first, but Felix is waiting on the porch, so she pops over to say goodbye to him. I keep walking, and Dylan follows me down the street toward the Subaru. He doesn’t say anything. His hands are stuffed into his front pockets, and he’s giving off a nervous energy.

Flashes of a fire pit and a passed-around bottle of Malibu fill my mind, and I look up at him. “Why do we only run into each other at the occasional drama-filled party?”

He smiles. “We’re extra like that.”

We reach the Subaru and I lean against the door. Jena and Felix are still all the way down the street in front of Beau’s house, probably staring intensely into each other’s eyes.

Dylan brushes a stray piece of hair off my cheek, drawing my attention back to him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I force a smile. “Of course.”

“I’m sorry tonight turned out the way it did. But I am glad we got a chance to talk. I’m looking forward to a drama-free prom.”

After Brandon’s little visit, I can practically feel Claire’s ghost hovering over me. Waiting to ruin everything. Maybe prom will seem exciting again in the light of day, but right now it sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. I hate that it feels that way. Prom with Dylan should be a fairy tale.

I don’t say any of that though. “I am too. It’ll be fun. Maybe Jena and Felix will share a limo with us.”

“Oh god. Felix would absolutely trash a limo. Didn’t he throw up in the one they got for homecoming?”

My laugh surprises me. “On second thought, maybe we should rent our own.”

“I’d like to keep you to myself anyway.” His gaze dances across my face, and this feels dangerous in ways I can’t even explain. “Drive safe, okay?”

“I will.” I grab the hem of his sweatshirt and start to pull it over my head. “You probably need this back if you’re staying on the beach, huh?”

Dylan frowns and reaches out to stop me. His hand closes around my wrist. “No, no, it’s fine. You should keep it. It’s cold tonight.”

“I think I’ll be okay. Unlike you, I’ll have heated seats at my disposal,” I say, pointing a thumb at the Subaru over my shoulder. “You’ll be a lot colder than I will.”

He stares at me for a beat longer, looking like he’s chewing on a thought.

“What?”

He shakes his head but his fingers flex on my arm. “Nothing. Do me a favor and keep the sweatshirt anyway. It’ll give me a good excuse to come find you on Monday and get it back.”

I smile, thrilled at the prospect of having something of his for the whole weekend. This feels like girlfriend stuff. You don’t loan clothing to someone you don’t give a shit about. Or ask them to prom. Right? “You don’t need an excuse to come see me.”

He backs away. “I know. Keep it anyway.”

I laugh and then he’s gone, walking toward the front porch. Jena passes him about halfway to the car, and he surprises me by giving her a high five as they pass each other. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jena high-five another human before. She’s spending too much time with Felix and the team. Next, they’ll be slapping each other’s asses.

The wind whips up the road and cuts straight through the sweatshirt. A violent shiver runs down my back. I hop into the car and hit the ignition button.

Jena’s taking her sweet time getting to the car, so I grab my phone from the console and flick it off airplane mode. A flood of notifications roll in as soon as it connects to service.

I have a bunch of congratulatory text messages from family—my mom must have made the rounds on the Goodwin phone tree before her charity event—and then, of course, the inevitable.

10:21 p.m.

No Caller ID

71 Missed Calls

As I stare at my screen, it lights with a fresh call, vibrating silently in my hand. My stomach sours. I toggle it back into airplane mode and the call cuts off. This guy needs to get a fucking life . Get a dog. Make a friend. Creep out your neighbor. Find a girl with bad teeth to pretend you matter—just leave me the hell alone.

Before I can delete the missed calls, the passenger door opens. I tuck my phone under my leg so she won’t see what I’m doing and try to release some of the tension from my shoulders.

Jena drops into the passenger seat and beams at me. She’s almost vibrating in place. “Nice sweatshirt. Aren’t you so glad I dragged you out of the house? Tell me everything .”

I crank the heat and wait for her excitement to bleed into me, but even that doesn’t work. I should be gushing about Dylan brushing the hair from my face. Recounting his nervous prom invitation. Downloading every detail about our walk on the beach. I should be talking a mile a minute about Yale and Brown and how everything is finally working out. Instead, my mind conjures images of Brandon’s screaming face in the darkened windshield, and all I feel is deep, hollow regret.

You’re a fucking monster for what you did to my sister!

I should have stayed home.