Page 7

Seven

Before

September 2nd

I slip into the kitchen and stick my phone into the back of the silverware drawer. The dancing has resumed in the den, and the sophomores are nowhere to be seen. The music is safe for now—though that’s the least of my problems.

The side door to the deck closes beside me, and I see Dylan pulling the door shut on the other side. He’s alone.

A moment later, Claire comes out of the library with a scowl on her face.

Holy shit. Dylan must have turned her down.

I watch her stare after him with a burst of vindication. I can feel the smugness make a home on my face. Maybe this party isn’t a total wash after all.

I wonder if Claire’s going to follow him onto the deck. Instead, she heads straight for me, because of course she does. Getting with Dylan was never about Dylan. It was always about getting a rise out of me.

I fold my arms and lean against the sink, waiting for the inevitable.

“He doesn’t want you, you know,” she says, as she comes to a stop in front of me.

I reach for the mess of discarded Solo cups on the counter and systematically stack them into an orderly pile on the marble countertop. When trying to appear unaffected, turning your attention to a task always helps. “Who are we talking about?”

She laughs, and Jena slides up beside me, staring Claire down.

“Oh good. Your bodyguard is here. Tell me, Jena, do you ever wonder how much more you could be doing with your life if you weren’t stuck so far up Brooke’s ass?”

Jena snorts. “There’s a difference between being up someone’s ass and having their back. But I understand why the concept might be foreign to you, since you’ve alienated everyone who might have had yours.”

Claire’s eyes narrow. “You’re a real bitch, you know that?”

“Why don’t you tell us more about your imaginary friends at your new school, and how happy you are to have left Waldorf behind? I’m sure quitting the firm to do oil changes was your dad’s first choice too, right?”

I throw up my hands to stop them. People are starting to pay attention to us. “Can we stop? It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Always the peacekeeper,” Claire mumbles, though she looks like she’s contemplating several ways to murder Jena right here in this kitchen.

Looking at them now, you’d never guess they were practically inseparable a year ago. I don’t know how many times I called either one of them to find they were already together, baking something or watching some lame campy horror movie and ranking it against the classics.

Now, if Claire baked anything for Jena, it would probably be laced with poison.

“How is your new school, Claire?” I ask to get her attention off Jena. Neither one of them is likely to back down. “Really. Are you settling in?”

After a painfully long stare, Claire swings her attention back to me. She looks bored again, like she’s slipped back into the unaffected persona she waltzed in with. “I don’t want to talk about my new school. I’d much rather talk about you.”

Shit.

Claire grabs a couple shots off the counter and downs one. “How does it feel?”

“How does what feel?”

“This,” she says, gesturing around the lake house as she downs the second shot. “To win. You’ve been in my shadow since kindergarten and now you’re at the top of the pyramid. Queen bee. Party hostess. Waldorf’s most valuable bitch. And you only had to step on my neck to get there.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “I haven’t won anything. And I certainly didn’t step on anyone to get what I have.”

“Right, you let your dad do your dirty work for you. Brooke Goodwin doesn’t ruin her manicure for anybody.”

I frown. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She continues as if I said nothing at all, snatching up a third shot and tossing the last one on the counter with a clatter. “Maybe it’s time to get those hands dirty, Brooke. Show these fine people who they’re really dealing with and see if you’re still at the top of that pyramid by the end of the night.”

Claire dances away, holding her remaining shot high above her head as she slips through the crowd of dancers.

“This can’t be good,” I mumble.

Jena folds her arms. “You think? That’ll be three shots in two minutes. I don’t know what the hell she’s planning, but drunk and resentful Claire is the worst. I told you we should have kicked her out right away. Now who knows what she’s going to do?”

“I know, I know. We have to get her out of here, but how am I supposed to do that without looking like a total dick?”

Jena levels me with a disbelieving look. “Better to look like a dick for a minute than deal with whatever the hell she’s going to put you through. You don’t play with the snake that bit you, Brooke. You suck out the venom and run.”

I wring my hands together. “Whatever we do, we need to do it quickly and efficiently. My dad will flip the fuck out if someone calls the cops. He’s got a lot going on right now. I probably shouldn’t have even thrown this party…”

I look around and catch Felix’s eye across the room. I wave him over. Maybe he can provide some muscle. Felix is not a guy you say no to—especially when he asks you to leave a party. At least then it wouldn’t be me personally doing the removal. That should spare some gossip come Monday.

“You stay here,” Jena says. “I’ll get her out the front door and Felix will handle it if I can’t. Nobody has to know you’re involved. Felix can borrow Dylan’s car and drive her home. He’s not drinking tonight. Or I’ll call her an Uber or something. Either way, she’s going.”

I hug her so tightly she squeaks. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Wait until I get her out of here.”

I let her go, and she snags Felix’s hand as he approaches and pulls him toward the den. I think about stepping out on the deck as an extra dose of plausible deniability—if I’m not even in the room when they make her go, nobody can say I was involved. And bonus , I can sneak in more time with Dylan.

But before Jena takes ten steps toward her target, Claire jumps onto the coffee table, holds her shot in the air, and grins as everyone turns to look at her. “Who wants to play Truth or Shot?” she shouts. “How about I go first?”

She stares straight over the heads of all my guests, looking me straight in the eye.

“I have so many juicy secrets,” she says, downing her third shot like it’s water. “Somebody ask me!”

My stomach sinks.

Beau grins up at her. “Truth or shot, Claire?”

“Truth, of course.”

“What’s your juiciest secret?” Beau asks.

She glances over at Felix and Jena, who are still headed straight for her, and points a long, almond-shaped fingernail at them. “Oh good. Come to the front of the circle, Felix. This truth is for you.”

I know exactly what she’s about to say. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

“Felix, did you know that Jena and Beau made out in his car last year after the Albany game?”

Felix freezes. I’m already pushing my way through our classmates. He’s a full foot taller than almost everyone around him, so he’s almost directly in my line of sight as he turns and gapes at Jena. This is not good.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…

“What the fuck, Jena. Seriously? We were only broken up for four days!”

Beau has gone deathly pale, half hiding behind Claire. He clearly wasn’t expecting that to be the secret she shared with everyone. His mouth opens and closes a few times before a sound comes out. “It wasn’t a big deal, man. I promise. We were both thinking of other people. It’s not worth getting mad about. Honestly. It was nothing.”

“Move,” I grumble, shoving people out of my way to get to them before this blows up.

Please don’t do anything stupid, Felix.

Felix turns toward Beau. “Oh good. I’m glad you stabbed me in the fucking back for nothing .”

I hear Jena desperately trying to get Felix’s attention. His shoulder tugs backward like she’s pulling on his elbow to get him to look at her, but he doesn’t budge. I slide sideways around the table.

They’re only a few feet away. “Felix…don’t.”

He dives for Beau.