“And,” Clark said, presenting the CD to me with a flourish. “This is more of a joke than anything else. You don’t have to listen to it.”
“What is it?” I asked, taking it from him, then recognizing the familiar font on the cover. This one showed a crow and a flaming sword. A Murder of Crows, the title read. By C. B. McCallister.
“I know you don’t read,” Clark said, and I raised an eyebrow at him. “But I thought maybe you wouldn’t have anything against listening. It’s the audiobook, so it’s like someone telling you a story.”
“Ha ha,” I said, turning it over and reading the back. I felt my eyes widen. “This takes nineteen hours?”
“Yeah,” Clark said, not seeming fazed by this. “And those are just the first two discs. There’s like twelve, but I didn’t want to scare you.”
“Andie,” my dad called. I looked up from the CD to see him hovering in the doorway, clearly not sure what he should do—or what I wanted him to do.
“Clark came by to pick me up for a date,” I said, trying to get this over with quickly. “Because I didn’t know I’d be grounded.”
“Ah,” my dad said, his eyes traveling down to the flowers in my hand.
“Sir, I just want you to know Andie was amazing last night,” Clark said, giving me a smile, as I felt myself freeze.
“Last night?” my dad asked. His voice was still totally calm, but this was the way he sounded in debates when he realized his opponent had just made a mistake.
“Right,” I said quickly, trying to jump in before this got any worse. “So here’s the thing—”
“When Andie helped out with my dog who was sick,” Clark went on. It took all my willpower not to bury my head in my hands. “She was great.” He looked from me to my dad, finally seeming to get that something was going on. “Was that a secret?” he whispered to me.
“I didn’t know you stayed the night at Clark’s,” my dad said.
“I told you it was for work,” I said, realizing as I did that I should have probably just told him the truth right from the beginning, as opposed to hoping he would never find out.
“It was totally professional,” Clark said, jumping in. “Nothing else . . . I mean that wasn’t at all what . . .”
“Nothing happened.” I looked down at my feet, not quite able to believe that I was having to say this, to my dad, in front of Clark. “I just went over there to take care of the dog, and then we took shifts staying up to make sure he was okay.”
My dad looked at me evenly, his eyes narrowed slightly, like he was trying to see if I was telling the truth. After a moment he must have decided I was, because he nodded slightly. “Okay,” he said.
“Okay?” I’d expected a lot worse. I’d expected him to grill Clark and me for details, trying to find discrepancies in our stories, the way he had when he was a lawyer. And the truth was, something had happened last night—nothing that I was even sure I’d be able to articulate to him, but something nonetheless.
“I believe you.” I’d just started to relax when he went on. “But your grounding just got extended. It’s ten days now.”
Remembering our earlier conversation and hoping I’d get points for trying, I ventured, “Eight?”
“Know when to fold ’em, kid.” My dad shook his head and started to head back to the kitchen. “You can walk him to his car.”
“Uh,” Clark said. “That’s great, except my car is outside that gate thing.”
“Why?” my dad asked, sounding baffled.
“Well, there was nobody inside the gatehouse,” Clark explained. “There was a note saying they’d be back in five. So I just parked outside and walked. I didn’t want to be late.” He gave me a tiny smile, and I felt the forgetting-our-date guilt hit me once again.
My dad shook his head. “Andie, remind me to have a conversation with the Neighborhood Council about what passes for security around here.”
I nodded quickly. “Totally. So . . . can I still walk Clark to his car?”
My dad looked between me and Clark for what felt like an eternity before he finally nodded. “Fine,” he said. He raised his eyebrows at me. “No driving anywhere. And be back before seven a.m. this time.”
“Fine,” I said grudgingly, and then a second later, added, “I mean, thanks.” My dad nodded, then walked into the kitchen again, tapping his watch as he went.
? ? ?
I looked over at Clark as we crossed from the driveway onto the road. It was a long summer twilight, like the sun was fighting to stay around as long as possible, even as it slowly, steadily, got darker.
“So,” Clark said, nodding toward the street we were approaching. It was the main street that wound through Stanwich Woods, the one that carried you past the gatehouse and around in a circle, until you returned to where you came from. “Want to show me around?”