Page 20 of No Place Left to Hide

Jena places a hand on each of my cheeks, forcing me to meet her eyes. “One of these days you’re going to have to stand up for yourself. You care more about your image than what’s best for you, and that’s garbage. But when—not if—whenshe fucks things up, I’ve got your back.”

I grip her hands on my cheeks and smile. “You always do. Thank you for understanding.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to find Felix and make sure he’s ready tohelp break down whatever chaos Claire’s about to create.” She fixes me with one final glare. “For the record, one of these days you’re going to put her in her place, and when that happens, I’m going to cheer.”

She storms off and I take a second to collect myself. I stride toward the front door—Claire left it wide open—and gently shut it.

Jena doesn’t understand. She doesn’t have the same image to maintain. Nobody’s watching her like a hawk. Nobody’s planning out her every move and activity. Nobody put her in a Yale onesie when she was a month old. Nobody cares what events her family attends or sponsors or which boards they sit on. Her name isn’t synonymous with six generations of lawyers and judges. She has the freedom to be impulsive and tell people to fuck off. I can’t.

Being a Goodwin comes with a lot of perks, but it also has a hell of a lot of limitations. Unlike Jena, Goodwins are always in the public eye. And our collective image is why my mom is so successful. It’s why my dad is a top candidate for the open Polk County judge position. It’s why Yale is waiting for my early admission application. Goodwins must exceed the standards set by ourselves and others. Goodwins don’t go to culinary school or live out any dream that’s “beneath” the family’s name.

No matter how much we may want to.

Claire is center stage now. A crowd of suck-ups materializes around her, and I want to gag. Everyone welcomes her back. Everyone tells her how much she’s been missed this summer.

It’s like she’s the sun and we’re all planets in her orbit—even though half these people probably forgot she existed twenty minutes ago. I move closer to keep eyes on her as she gathers an audience.

Everyone talks at once.

“It’s so nice to see you, Claire.”

“I’ve missed you!”

“Waldorf isn’t the same without you!”

“It’s so nice of Brooke to invite you to catch up with everyone.”

That last one is Jena. She stands with her back to the dining room table, grinning at Claire. Only I know it’s anI dare you to contradict me in front of all these peoplegrin.

Claire seems to know it too. She smiles back and plops down on the couch shoved against the wall in the den. The dancing has all but stopped. “That’s Brooke for you. Always thinking of others.”

Beau slithers out of nowhere. His floppy golden hair sticks up at the sides in a way that suggests he’s been making out in a closet. He slides in beside Claire and slings an arm around her shoulders, absolutely beaming. Beau’s always had a thing for Claire—an extremely one-sided thing. “Now it’s a real party, with the Queen of Waldorf in attendance!” he announces.

I need a drink. If I’m going to watch everyone reconstruct a long-crumbled pedestal beneath my archenemy, I’m sure as hell not going to do it sober. I make my way to the kitchen.

Someone yells, “What happened to you anyway? You were there one day and gone the next. Everyone had a different theory.”

Claire lets out this annoyingly musical laugh, tipping her head back like our classmates havingtheoriesabout her removal from school is the cutest thing she’s ever heard. I pour myself more of Beau’s weird punch at the island and listen with my lips pressed together as she lies through her fucking teeth.

“It’s nothing interesting,” she says. “We just moved out of the district and couldn’t justify the drive to Waldorf. My new school is great though. I really like it there, but I miss all of you.”

She flashes an extra-wide smile at Beau, and I can see his hopesclimbing from here. Beau is such a teddy bear. He’d do anything for her, and she knows it. I swear to god, if she uses Beau to make Dylan jealous all night, I’m going to punch her in the face—the second everyone else is gone, of course.

Speaking of Dylan, I look around, but there are too many people. I can’t see him anywhere. Which is probably for the best because Claire’s climbing into Beau’s lap.

“That’s it?” Beau asks her, his voice an octave lower than it was a minute ago. “You moved?”

“Yup. Not all that exciting, is it?”

I take a large sip of my drink, trying not to laugh. Claire didn’t simply move out of the district. Her father was let go from the firm where my dad works for fabricating evidence in a trial. Mr. Heck was disbarred and can no longer practice law in the state of Oregon. After her family lost that cushy lawyer income, the Hecks couldn’t afford Waldorf anymore. Or their house, or their cars. They had to sell almost everything and start over in the next county.

Last I heard, Mr. Heck was working at an Oil Can Henry’s, and her mom got arrested for shoplifting. But of course, I can’t say any of that here. Not only would it ruin the vibe, but airing her dirty laundry would only makemelook like an asshole.

“Any chance you can transfer back?” Beau asks.

I watch his gaze trail to her boobs and get stuck there. Beau is so predictable.

“Yeah! Come back for senior year!” someone else yells.

---