Page 23 of No Place Left to Hide

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 eternalvictim. 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 himbabe. “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.”

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