Nightstruck (27 page)

I missed Piper—
my
Piper, not the creature she'd become—so badly it hurt like a physical pain. She was the only person I could even imagine talking to about the emotional jumble I couldn't seem to deal with. She'd always been the one I talked to about girl stuff, about my thoughts and feelings and fears. She'd been there for me during the terrible last few months of my parents' marriage, when our house had been like a verbal war zone and I felt like a helpless witness, watching the two people I loved most in the world tearing each other apart. How I wished she could be there for me now.

Though I don't suppose I'd have been able to talk this particular dilemma over with her anyway, seeing as Luke was her boyfriend. If Piper were still in the picture, none of this would have happened in the first place and I wouldn't have anything to be confused about.

The quarantine dragged on, though the government's assertion that the city's madness was the result of some contagious disease grew increasingly absurd. With my dad gone, I no longer had a way to get inside information about what was
really
going on, but there was no way the government hadn't sent people in hazmat suits into the city at night. Surely those people had seen what the rest of us were seeing, and the hazmat suits would prove it wasn't some disease or hallucinogen. But the quarantine stayed in effect anyway, and people who tried to sneak out were arrested and thrown in jail.

The continued quarantine meant there was little to no chance I would be able to make my planned trip to Boston to spend Thanksgiving with my mom and sister. Unlike me, Luke had family who lived within the city limits, and Dr. Gilliam didn't so much ask me to join them for Thanksgiving as assume I would. Sitting in on some other family's Thanksgiving dinner was an incredibly unappealing option. However, my other option was to spend the day alone in my house, which sucked even more.

I wished the dinner were happening at Dr. Gilliam's place, so that if I found it unbearable I could slip home. Unfortunately, her father and her stepmother would be hosting us in their condo down by the Delaware River.

“We'll all spend the night there,” Dr. Gilliam told me. “That way we won't have to worry about trying to get home before curfew.”

“But I can't leave Bob home alone all night!” I protested, thinking I'd found a way out of going, and wondering if that was a victory or not.

Dr. Gilliam smiled. “Of course not. Bob's invited, too. My folks have a black Lab who'd be delighted to make his acquaintance.”

I doubted Bob would be similarly delighted. He wasn't particularly aggressive with other dogs, as long as they weren't aggressive with him, but he was … let's just call it standoffish.

“We'll be careful about introducing them,” Dr. Gilliam assured me. “If it seems like they won't get along, we'll separate them. It'll be fine; you'll see. And I'm sure he'll forgive you for uprooting him when you give him his own turkey dinner.”

I had to admit, a turkey dinner would be a big hit with Bob. So apparently I was going to have Thanksgiving dinner and spend the night at a stranger's house. It was going to be one hell of a tough day, full of memories of my dad. I was going to have a hard time thinking of things to be thankful for. But when I called and told my mom about it, she burst into tears and said how very happy she was that I wouldn't have to spend the holiday alone, and I realized that in spite of my ambivalence, I was pretty glad about that, too.

*   *   *

Thanks to my family being scattered all over the country—and out of it, because of one aunt and set of cousins who live in England—the biggest family gathering I'd ever been to had been no more than eight people, counting me and my folks. Luke had warned me that his family was a big one, and when we arrived at his grandparents' condo, I found he'd been telling nothing but the truth. There were fifteen people, most of whom were in his parents' generation. There were a couple of bratty boys, aged four and six, and one cousin named Marlene, who was sixteen, but that was it for young folk. Which was actually kind of fine with me, because it made it easier not to be overly social.

Sometimes I felt fine, if a little removed. But other times grief snuck up on me and smacked me hard in the face. More than once I felt like I was going to lose it and go off on a crying jag right in front of all these strangers.

What struck me hardest was watching Dr. Gilliam interact with her father. There was such affection and mutual respect between them, and I was achingly aware that I would never have a chance to relate to my own father like that, as one adult to another. I would never know how our relationship would have evolved when I left the nest and when the immediate aftermath of the divorce had blown over. That hurt so much that I had to duck into the bathroom to have a good cry a couple of times.

Both times, I'd slipped away in what I thought was an unobtrusive fashion, and both times, when I stepped out of the bathroom, Luke was there waiting for me. The awkwardness was still there between us, but I didn't have the willpower to refuse the hugs he offered me.

If Thanksgiving was this bad, I hated to think what Christmas would be like. Even if the government finally lifted the quarantine—which I flat-out didn't believe would happen—and I got to spend that holiday with my own family, the sense of loss would still cling to me.

No, I wasn't in the most thankful state of mind, and I probably came off as dull and standoffish. A few of the adults tried to engage me in conversation, but though I tried my best, words were hard to find and those conversations died before they were born. The only person I felt even mildly myself around—other than Luke and his mom—was Luke's cousin Marlene, but that was because she kind of reminded me of Piper, with her bubbly nature and her amazing facility for carrying on one-sided conversations.

Despite the gloom that hovered over me, I found that I couldn't help liking Marlene. She was charmingly unconventional, a combination of jock and artist. She was into rowing and volleyball, but she was also an avid painter and had apparently painted the portrait of her grandparents that hung over the mantelpiece of the gas fireplace. I know practically nothing about art, but I thought the painting was damn good and couldn't help being impressed. Marlene sat to my left at dinner and kept up an effortless stream of chatter, despite my own reticence.

“She started talking when she was in the womb,” Luke teased, “and hasn't shut up since.”

I leaned back out of the line of fire as Marlene tossed a crumbly bit of roll at him, something the three of us found more amusing than the adults did.

The condo was a pretty good size, considering this was Center City Philadelphia, but it still required a creative use of resources to find places for fifteen people to sleep. There was a lot of bed sharing going on, and Marlene and I had a couple of air mattresses packed into a study that was barely big enough to hold them. Bob, who'd tolerated the attentions of Missy the black Lab throughout the day, had apparently had enough and decided to join us, squeezing into the space under the desk and curling into a contented ball.

Marlene and I changed into our pj's, and I wondered what the chances were that I'd be able to sleep tonight. My body felt exhausted, and emotionally I was running on empty, but I feared what would happen when I closed my eyes. Today had been hard, but at least there'd been distractions. Those were all gone now—or at least, so I thought.

“Luke told me what happened to your dad,” Marlene said, sitting cross-legged on her air mattress.

I froze, strangely startled. For all the talking Marlene had done today, the topics of conversation had never been serious. She'd told a lot of stories, most of which were funny, and she'd talked about books and TV shows and movies. I envied her facility with small talk and wasn't prepared for her suddenly grave tone.

“Are you tired enough to sleep yet,” she continued, “or do you want to stay up awhile?”

My throat tightened and I shrugged. I wouldn't have been able to get words out even if I could think of any.

“I've never lost anyone like that myself,” Marlene said, “but my best friend lost her mom in a drunk-driving accident last year. I know she's kind of a mess on holidays, so I imagine it's tough on you, too.”

I let out a shuddering sigh. “You could say that.” I tried to return Marlene's kind smile, but I doubted I did a very convincing job of it.

“If you don't want to talk, that's fine. I just wanted you to know that you
can
talk if you want to.”

For all the time I'd spent lately wishing I had someone my own age to talk to—someone other than Luke, who came with other complications—Marlene was still basically a stranger to me, and I wasn't inclined to open my heart to her. However, I wasn't inclined to lie down and be alone with my thoughts, either, and I wished I were better with small talk.

“Thanks,” I said. “But I don't think talking about it is going to help right now.”

“Like I said, that's fine.” She flashed me another smile, and I could see no hint of hurt or irritation in her. “But we don't have to talk about gloomy stuff if you don't want to. If I'm being annoying and you just want me to shut up and let you sleep, let me know. I promise I won't take it personally.”

“You're not being annoying,” I hastened to assure her. “I just kind of suck at small talk.”

Marlene laughed and waved off my concern. “I talk enough for three people. At least that's what my folks say. I'm always happy to have an audience that actually listens to me.”

I laughed, despite the heaviness in my heart.

“You're a hell of a lot easier to talk to than Luke's
last
girlfriend,” Marlene continued with a roll of her eyes. “I mean, I talk a lot, I know, but it's not always about myself. I actually find other people interesting too.”

I didn't know which part of that statement to react to first. When my dad had bad-mouthed Piper, I'd always been quick to leap to her defense, but my feelings for her were such a jumbled mess right now I couldn't even tell if I
wanted
to defend her. So I tackled the easier subject first.

“I'm not Luke's girlfriend.” I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, knew Marlene would have no trouble seeing my easy blush. But one kiss—okay, a whole bunch of kisses, but all in the space of just a few minutes—didn't make me into Luke's girlfriend. “We're just friends and neighbors is all.”

Marlene raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. “Oh really?” she asked, with infinite skepticism.

The heat in my face intensified. “Really.” I
wanted
to be Luke's girlfriend, but even if I could convince myself that he was genuinely interested in me that way, there was still the issue of Piper. Obviously, he didn't want her the way she was now, but I would still feel like I was betraying my best friend if I took advantage of what had happened to her to steal her boyfriend.

“I've known Cousin Luke since we were both in diapers,” Marlene said. “I've never seen him look at a ‘friend' the way he looks at you.”

I blinked in surprise at that. I'd never noticed Luke looking at me in any special way. I wouldn't have been surprised if Marlene had caught
me
looking at
him
like some love-struck puppy, but not the other way around.

“He's still technically with Piper,” I said, but it sounded lame even to me.

“Even if Piper hadn't gone off the deep end, there was no way they were going to be together much longer. Luke was too loyal to dump her, but believe me, he was getting tired of some of the shit she pulled.”

Marlene was obviously another entry on the short list of people who didn't like Piper. The pre-night Piper, that is. There wasn't much to like about what Piper had become now.

Marlene gave me a long, speculative look that made me want to squirm. Then she said, “I'll tell you a secret, but you have to promise you won't tell Luke I told you. He'd kill me.”

It sounded like this secret was one that wasn't hers to tell, and if I were being honorable I'd have urged her not to share it. If Luke had secrets, that was his business, not mine. But there's a difference between knowing the right thing to do and actually doing it.

“I won't say a word,” I promised.

“Pinkie swear, cross your heart, hope to die, all that stuff?”

I laughed at her earnestness. “Absolutely.”

She leaned forward conspiratorially and lowered her voice as if she thought someone might be listening in. “Luke always really liked Piper, and they had fun together and all, but she was never really the one he wanted.”

“Huh?”

“He's had a crush on you for, like, forever.”

“What?” I squeaked, sure I must have heard her wrong.

“I kept telling him he should ask you out if he liked you so much, but he was convinced you weren't interested. He said you would barely give him the time of day and that you avoided him whenever you could. I always suspected that didn't mean what he thought it meant, but he thought it would be too awkward if he asked you out and you said no, what with you living so close and seeing so much of each other.”

I hate to think what color my face had turned by now. My mom had always warned me that some people who don't know better confuse shyness for aloofness or unfriendliness. But somehow it had never occurred to me that Luke might have interpreted my shyness around him as meaning I wasn't interested.

“No way,” I said, fighting against the warmth of hope that tried to kindle in my belly. “You're just making this up. Trying to play matchmaker or something.” Or maybe distract me from the misery of my first Thanksgiving without my dad.

Marlene snorted. “If I didn't already know he was interested, there wouldn't be much point in playing matchmaker. It's not like he's going to go out with someone just because I told him to. We're close, but we're not
that
close.”