Page 33 of No Place Left to Hide

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 atmyparty. 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 needbackup. I need them to be the bad guys and drag her ass down the driveway. My fingerscurl 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.

Ten

Now

Jena gapes at me and then whips around to look back between the seats. “What do you mean? Why would someone follow us?”

“I don’t know, but they’ve been on my ass since that red light.”

“Oh.” She flops back into her seat with a laugh. “You almost had me worried. This is the only highway out of town. Everyone takes this road to get home from the coast. You’resodramatic, Brooke.”

She’s right. Thisisthe only road out, eventually branching off to highways that lead further inland—east toward Salem, and north, up the coast. It makes sense that someone else would be headed in the same direction as us, even at this hour. And if that was all they were doing, I might actually feel as dramatic as Jena thinks I am. But factor in the switching lanes and the closeness of their bumper to mine, and it doesn’t feel right.

The Bronco looms behind us, much too close for anyone simply in a hurry. All I can hear in my head isTime’s up, Brooke.No amount of coffeeshop indie music or BFF placation can loosen this knot building in my chest.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I say, forcing another smile.

Because what else am I going to say?I might have a stalker and they could be in that car.Yeah, that would go over well, and if it ends up being some drunk idiot or random asshole driver, I’d have told her for nothing.

The last markers of town start to fade, replaced by long stretches of trees as we leave civilization behind. Rows of stores become spread-out singular shops, or the occasional weathered home built just a little too close to the side of the road.

I barely see any of it.

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