Nightstruck - Jenna Black Page 0,6
do a backflip to get your attention.”
I forced a grin that felt awkward as I hoisted my backpack and closed my locker. “Sorry. I’m a little preoccupied.”
“No kidding?”
I gave her a dirty look, thinking now she would surely ask me what was wrong. I still hadn’t decided what to tell her, though I was leaning toward the same cat story I’d told the police and my dad. She’d talked me through some pretty awful times as my parents’ marriage had broken up. I started lots of those conversations in tears, and they mostly ended with me calm and smiling. Even laughing sometimes. I could have used a good dose of her sunny outlook right now, but I didn’t have the guts to tell her the truth. She had always been very accepting of me, but I didn’t know how any sane person could accept this particular story.
“I’m going to head over to Rare Vintage and do a little shopping before I go home,” she said. “Wanna come with?”
Rare Vintage is a vintage clothing store Piper was in love with. It was within walking distance of our school—not that it mattered, since Piper’s parents had given her a Volvo for her sixteenth birthday. My parents, on the other hand, had told me in no uncertain terms that if I wanted my own car I had to earn the money to buy it myself. They both grew up poor and made huge successes of themselves—my mom is a corporate lawyer and my dad the youngest police commissioner in Philly’s history—and they thought giving me things they couldn’t have afforded at my age would spoil me. Never mind that, without a car, my commute to school was pure hell, involving a couple of long walks to and from the train station as well as a thirty-minute train ride.
“I can’t,” I told her, making a regretful face even though Rare Vintage is not my favorite place. Maybe Piper has enough extra cash lying around to drop on fancy beaded flapper dresses she’ll never wear, but I don’t. “I’m grounded.”
Except for my dad confiscating my phone and not letting me use the Internet, being grounded wasn’t that big a deal for me. Most of my schoolmates lived out in the suburbs, and with me not having a car, it was really hard for me to hang out with them outside of school. On most days, I went straight home, and being grounded wasn’t going to change that. Though if I weren’t grounded, I’d have gone to Rare Vintage just as a chance to spend more time with Piper. She had about a bazillion friends, and getting a spot on her social calendar was something of a challenge.
Piper raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You’ve been getting into trouble without me?” she asked with mock incredulity. “How could you?” She lowered her head and put a hand to her sternum as if heartsick.
I laughed and let a little of the tension ease out of my shoulders. Even if I couldn’t get myself to confide what had happened last night, maybe spending time with her—even if it was only a few stolen minutes—was the best thing for me.
Piper glanced at her watch. “What time is your train?” she asked.
“Three thirty,” I told her, not looking forward to the long, cold wait on the platform. It was still in the twenties out, and the train platform was open and windy. The colder and more miserable the weather, the less likely the damn train would come on time.
“Hmm. I bet if I give you a ride home, I can get you there with time to spare.”
I bit my lip, thinking about it. I knew my dad. He would still be at work when I got home, but since I was grounded, he would definitely call and make sure I was at home when I was supposed to be. And Piper was a little fuzzy on the meaning of punctuality. Chances were that, if I went with her, I’d be home late even with the ride.
“If we don’t beat the train home,” she wheedled, “you can always tell your dad it was late. It’s not like it’s never delayed or anything.”
“True,” I said. My dad would never have to know I’d defied him. And it would feel good to give this unfair punishment the respect it deserved.
Piper didn’t wait for my answer, just slipped her arm through mine and gave me a tug toward the parking lot.
* * *
We weren’t in