Nightstruck - Jenna Black Page 0,12

with us—more than once, but it was always for small things. You know, like failing to do my chores or talking back to them or lying to them about something trivial, like whether I’d done my homework.

Lying about where I was going was a much bigger deal. And sneaking out with Piper when I was supposed to be chatting up someone who could help me get into Princeton was off the charts.

But as Piper had pointed out, the worst my dad could do was ground me for longer, and that was only if he ever found out.

“We’re going to have so much fun!” Piper promised, and she looked almost giddy with excitement.

* * *

Since I was supposed to be going to Piper’s place to meet and have dinner with Dr. Schiff, I had to dress like I was going to an interview, not like I was going out for a night on the town. Piper refused to tell me what she had planned, but she did say I couldn’t wear the black pants with the button-down silk shirt and low-heeled boots I would leave my house in. I couldn’t very well sneak a change of clothes by my dad that night, so I stuck some jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt in my backpack on Friday morning and put them in Piper’s car.

She was supposed to pick me up at seven thirty for an eight o’clock dinner, but Piper is allergic to getting anywhere on time, so it was almost eight already when she knocked on my door. Bob greeted her arrival with a bark that rattled the windows, and my dad didn’t immediately call him off. I think Bob was kind of talking for the both of them, because my dad had been looking at his watch every five seconds since seven thirty, and there was no hiding the irritation on his face.

If I’m being perfectly honest, I was a bit irritated myself, even though I’d been expecting her to be late. The last thirty minutes would have been tense even if I weren’t nervous about what we were about to do, and fending off my dad’s barbed comments had been no fun. I’d defended Piper loyally, but really, is it that hard to show up at least close to on time?

“It’s a subtle power play,” my dad had said. “Showing you that her time is more valuable than yours.”

I just rolled my eyes at that one.

Dad finally called Bob off, but he answered the door himself instead of letting me do it. Internally, I groaned, knowing this couldn’t be a good thing. I couldn’t see the look on his face, but I could see Piper’s and the way her eyes widened. There weren’t many people who could intimidate her, but my dad was one of them.

“I suppose Becket misheard you,” he said. “She thought you said you were picking her up at seven thirty.”

Yes, my dad has all the subtlety and tact of a wrecking ball. “Cut it out, Dad,” I said, trying to slip past him and out the door before he changed his mind about letting me go. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Sorry, Mr. Walker,” Piper said, blinking innocently at my dad. No one calls my dad Mr. Walker. It’s either Pete, or Commissioner Walker. Piper knows that. And while I didn’t think being late had been any kind of power play, I suspected calling my dad Mr. Walker was. Telling him that, just because he was the police commissioner, it didn’t mean he was anyone special. “Traffic was terrible, and then it took forever to find a parking space.”

Her claim of traffic delays on a Saturday night was questionable, but trouble finding a parking space was completely believable. I don’t think my dad bought it, but at least he didn’t completely humiliate me by calling my best friend a liar to her face.

“I expect her home by eleven,” he told Piper sternly.

“Okay,” she said, but we all knew she would treat that curfew as a guideline rather than a rule.

My dad finally let me get past him, and with only the briefest good-bye, Piper and I hurried off down the street. It was another cold night, the temperature somewhere in the twenties, and I decided I should strike all colleges north of the Mason–Dixon Line off my list. I wanted to go somewhere where it was warm all year long, even if that meant no Ivy League for me. I hoped Piper hadn’t had to