Page 9

Nine

Before

September 2nd

I burst through the last of the crowd as Felix’s fist slams into Beau’s horrified face.

With a thud of cartilage connecting, knuckles to nose, Beau drops like a sack of lead. Everyone around me scrambles back, the crowd re-forming behind the couch where they have a barrier between themselves and the impending fight. Claire casually steps off the coffee table and settles herself onto the couch like she’s front row at a prize fight. Or a puppet master, gleefully pulling strings and making her creations dance.

I have to stop this.

Felix follows Beau to the floor, pulling his fist back again, and lays Beau out with another punch. Jena yells for him to stop—sobs, really. Laughter rings out over the shrieks and gasps of the crowd. It’s a nasty, grating sound that’s so familiar I know who it belongs to without turning my head.

This is exactly what she wanted. Fucking chaos.

I throw myself forward, and when Felix pulls his fist back again, I catch him around the elbow and lean back until we both fall backward. The cackling intensifies, but I don’t look at Claire. I scramble off the floor and throw myself in front of a cowering Beau.

I lock eyes with Felix. “Enough.”

Felix climbs to his feet. “Move, Brooke,” he says through his teeth.

Jena inches up beside him. “Felix, let’s talk about this, okay? We weren’t even together. I would never—”

Felix ignores her completely. “I said move .”

Tears stream down Jena’s face and she swipes them away.

I stand my ground and fold my arms as Beau crab walks toward the dining room and scrambles into the kitchen. “I said, enough , Felix. People are watching.”

He glares at me. Anger radiates off him in waves that I feel slither across my skin. “Did you know?”

I glance at his fists, and for a split second, there’s a spike of fear in the pit of my stomach. I shove it down. “Of course I knew. Jena’s my best friend. That doesn’t give you permission to rage up my party.”

He scowls. “Of course you knew. Is there anything Brooke Goodwin doesn’t know? Anything you don’t have your hands in? Jesus fucking Christ.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” I say, stepping closer, “but I won’t do it here. We’re celebrating senior year; we’re not rehashing old drama. And let’s be clear, you’re the one who ended things with Jena. She was free to hook up with whoever she wanted. You don’t get to be mad about that. Now, for the last time: cut it out and walk away.”

I get close enough that I can feel his breath on the side of my face and lower my voice. “Because you and I both know you weren’t exactly celibate while you two were broken up, and it was a lot more than kissing, wasn’t it? I doubt Jena would be quite as forgiving if she knew. Of course, I won’t have any reason to share the whos and whens if you walk away. Do we understand each other?”

He looks at me like I’ve delivered a blow equal to the one Beau took to the face. But before he can speak, the sliding glass door opens. Dylan glides past me and puts himself between us.

“Take a walk, Felix. I’ll come with you.”

With Dylan as an added barrier, Felix finally deflates. He throws up his hands and backs away. “Fine. Whatever. You get your way, Brooke. As always.”

I feel Claire’s weighty stare on me, but it’s not only her. Everyone is looking at us. I’m careful with my response. “Games like this always bring out unnecessary drama; it’s okay. Get some air. You’re more than welcome to come back once you calm down and remember where you are.”

Felix’s eyes narrow, and I can almost see him running the subtext through his mind, but he nods. The crowd parts to let him through to the front door, and Dylan is right on his heels. Jena looks after them and back at me like she’s not sure what to help with, Felix or the disaster in my den. I wave my hand toward the door. She should focus on cleaning up her own mess, not mine. She barely hesitates before she runs out.

I turn back to the party. “Sorry about the hiccup, everyone! They’ll work it out. They always do. Anyone up for some dancing?”

Claire lets out another obnoxiously happy laugh and pushes herself off the couch. “What do you mean? We’re in the middle of a game.”

“I think that game ended with the fistfight, don’t you?”

She walks over and places both hands on my shoulders. It takes every muscle in my body not to flinch away. “Oh, sweetie, no. We’re only getting started.”

Claire turns toward the onlookers and throws her hands in the air. “Who’s next?”

There are way more cheers and hollers than I would have expected. I shake my head. After all these years, they still haven’t learned that nobody wins with Claire.

Felix and Jena weren’t warning enough, apparently.

The game resumes and goes round after round, steadily getting worse. Claire finds her way back to the truth-telling seat more often than the game should allow, delivering barbs of embarrassment like she’s knocking down targets at the county fair. One after another, my Waldorf classmates go down in waves of flushed faces and hushed laughter.

I do my best to stick to the background, cleaning up spills, throwing out stacks of used cups, and discreetly stashing bottles of alcohol in random cabinets and drawers. Maybe everyone will leave if they think we ran out? It’s a long shot, but I’ll take anything at this point. I even start scooping cups of Beau’s punch and dumping them down the sink when nobody’s looking. But all this is just a desperate attempt to keep the situation from escalating—it won’t stop what’s already begun, and it’s only a matter of time before Claire gets bored with her game and turns her attention back to me. Especially with Dylan, Jena, and Felix gone. I no longer have a buffer and I’m not sure if they’re coming back at all. Dylan might have driven everyone home for all I know. I wouldn’t blame them. I don’t want to be here anymore either.

“Brooke! You haven’t had a turn yet,” Claire calls from her throne on my fucking couch. “Come over here and play with us.”

I hip check the drawer where I just stashed the Malibu and sigh with my whole body. “No, thanks. I have to finish cleaning up.”

“Don’t you have a housekeeper for that?” she practically spits.

“She’s off on the weekends.”

“How generous of you to give the help some time off.” Claire stands and puts her hands on her hips. “Come on, I insist. It’s your turn. Truth or Shot?”

I’m done drinking tonight. I need to be ready for whatever chaos she’ll create before I can get her ass out of here, so I only have one option.

“Truth,” I say, coming around the island. The group in the den has thinned, but even so, fifteen sets of eyes watch me approach. Every molecule in my body is on high alert. Every nerve frayed. Every hair on end. Whatever’s coming won’t be good.

Claire holds many secrets I’d rather not reveal to the public. It’s anyone’s guess which scab she’ll choose to pick open tonight.

“Truth, that’ll be new for you. Let’s see…” She flings her hair over her shoulder and grins. “What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?”

One particular moment springs to mind and Claire’s eyes sparkle, like she’s thinking of it too.

Shit.

I feel my cheeks begin to flush with anticipated embarrassment and I can’t actually bring myself to say the words. So, instead…I lie.

“Okay, fine.” I come closer and lean against the sliding glass door to the deck. “One time I was in a rush to get home after a student government meeting, but I accidentally locked my keys in my car. It started to downpour . I’m talking buckets of water. My white shirt went completely see-through in about five seconds, and I had to call my dad for the spare key and—”

“You’re lying,” Claire says. “That didn’t happen.”

I fold my arms. I’m not surprised she’s calling me out, but I’m not about to back down. “I’m pretty sure it did.”

Her face starts to flush with anger. “No. It fucking didn’t. You’re making up a wet T-shirt story so you don’t have to be honest. That. Never. Happened.”

I could hear a pin drop in this room. Maybe planting a seed of doubt will slow her down?

“How could you possibly know that, Claire? You’ve been gone. We haven’t spoken in months. You can’t know what did or didn’t happen in my life while you were living it up at your new school. I promise you, having my dad show up and see me like that was mortifying.”

Or would have been…if it happened. My dad wouldn’t show up to help me if my car was on fire , much less for something AAA could handle.

Claire looks like her head is going to spin right off her body. “Was it as mortifying as the time you peed your pants on the bus home from that dance competition? When Coach refused to stop at a rest area?”

Someone bursts out laughing, and it trickles through the room.

“I think that’s more on Coach than on me, but sure. I guess that was embarrassing,” I say, trying to take the sting from it.

But Claire won’t even let me have that. “You can act all cool if you want, but I was there when you were crying your eyes out. It went all over the floor of the bus.”

“Oh. My. God. I thought that was water!” someone yells from the back, and the living room is suddenly aflutter with laughter.

“She peed her pants? On a bus?”

“I guess money can’t buy everything. Like a potty break.”

A few people shift away from me, as if I’m currently covered in urine. Claire watches it all with glee, and I’m acutely aware of the shift this night has taken. An hour ago, I was sitting on the island, watching everyone have fun at my party. I was taking phones, spouting off rules, managing playlists. Everyone was having a great time because I was the one in charge. And now, they’re all making puke faces behind their hands, giving me pity smiles, or completely avoiding eye contact. Claire walked in and demoted me from the queen of the party to its laughingstock.

And I snap.

I push off the sliding glass door and don’t stop until I’m face to face with her. “It’s been so nice to see you, Claire, but I think it’s time you went home.”

She sizes me up and I almost wish she’d put her hands on me so I’d have an ironclad excuse to react. Instead, she flops back on the couch. “Oh, come on. We’re just playing. Ugly truths always come out during Truth or Shot. It’s the nature of the game.”

“Then maybe keep it to the people who want to play instead of forcing your game on the whole party. You don’t need to be a bully about it.”

Those who’ve been targets of Claire’s resentment tonight nod in agreement. A few of my hecklers roll their eyes at me.

“No problem,” Claire says. “No more truth tonight. We’ll play another game.”

A few people shout out other, less hurtful options. I don’t hear what they settle on though. My mind is spinning. That high-alert feeling won’t leave my body. Claire needs to slink back to her shitty public school, shitty apartment, shitty life.

I slip out the sliding glass door to get some air. I’m too keyed up. I shouldn’t have snapped in front of everyone, because now that she’s refused to leave, it looks like I have no power here. This is my party. Not hers. I have to play it smarter.

I wish Jena and Felix were here. I need help. I need backup . I need them to be the bad guys and drag her ass down the driveway. My fingers curl on the guardrail. It’s not fair. She can waltz in and destroy relationships and reputations, start fights, and then…leave with no consequences because she’s already lost everything worth losing. We’re all at her mercy and there’s nothing I can do to stop her because she never actually gets her hands dirty. She’s fucking diabolical.

This nightmare of a party needs to be over so I can go home. Back to a life that doesn’t have the guillotine of Claire Heck hanging over every moment. She ruins everything she touches, and I don’t want to see what this night looks like when she’s finished with it.

The sliding glass door opens behind me. I look over my shoulder, but I already know who it is. The only person who won’t give me a moment’s peace.

“You always did suck at telling the truth,” Claire says, closing the door behind her, sealing us out here on the deck alone.