Nightstruck by Jenna Black Page A

Piper said doubtfully.
    But if Piper noticed, I would never get through the whole day without at least one of my teachers noticing. “Dad’s probably going to send me to military school if I get a detention on top of everything else.”
    Piper eyed me appraisingly, cocking her head, then frowned and shrugged. “Don’t know if it’s going to work,” she said, more to herself than to me, “but might as well try.”
    Without another word, she grabbed my arm and tugged me into the ladies’ room across the hall. Then she reached up and started unbuttoning her own shirt, which she’d paired with a uniform kilt that was probably at least an inch shorter than regulation. “Give me your shirt,” she ordered.
    I should have had more coffee that morning. It took me a beat or two to realize she was planning to switch shirts with me.
    â€œYou don’t have to do that!” I quickly argued, once I figured it out.
    â€œOf course I don’t have to,” she said. “But it’s the least I can do after getting you into trouble with your dad this weekend.”
    â€œBut you’ll get a detention for sure!” At least my tunic covered my placket and gave me an outside chance of getting away with it. There would be no hiding the fact that it was a polo shirt instead of a button-down if Piper wore it with her kilt.
    Piper already had her shirt off and was handing it to me. “No one’s going to be shocked, disappointed, or pissed off if I get a detention. Can you say the same? Now come on and give me your shirt.”
    I looked at her lean figure and then down at my own much more curvy one. “What are you, a size two or something?” I asked.
    Piper waved the question off. “Just try it and see. If it doesn’t fit, it doesn’t fit.”
    The thought of letting Piper take a detention in my place didn’t sit well with me, even though what she said made perfect sense. I’m not the kind of person who feels comfortable letting someone else take the blame for me. That didn’t stop me from pulling my tunic and shirt off over my head and taking the shirt she offered me. My dad was going to go ballistic if I came home with a detention, and I didn’t need any more drama at home.
    Unfortunately, no amount of breath holding was going to make Piper’s shirt button over my boobs. Another half an inch or so of play and I might have made it, but as it was, there was no way.
    â€œIt’s the thought that counts,” I said as I handed the shirt back to Piper.
    â€œSorry, Becks,” she said. “I wish I could have helped make it right.”
    I gave her a quick, impulsive hug. “You don’t have to make anything right. All is forgiven, okay?”
    And it really was. My irritation had vanished as if it never existed. Piper wasn’t always an easy friend to have, but she was a good one. My life was richer for having her in it, even if my dad was incapable of seeing that.
    â€œMaybe you’ll get lucky,” Piper said. “Maybe I’ll be the only one in the entire school who notices.”
    â€œMaybe,” I agreed unconvincingly.
    As it turned out, I was right not to be convinced. I didn’t even get past homeroom without getting the little pink slip of doom.
    *   *   *
    My school is small enough that it wasn’t worth having a detention period every day, so everyone got the joy of serving on Friday afternoons. Which sucked, because it meant I had the damn thing hanging over me for the whole week—and that didn’t exactly help the atmosphere at home. I don’t think my dad was capable of getting any more angry with me, but the detention helped prolong my stay in the doghouse. He didn’t force me to stay in my room anymore, but I was still thoroughly grounded, with no phone, Internet, or TV privileges. And things always felt tense when we were in the room together.
    It