Move to Strike

Chapter 1 Moist night wind swept the skin on her arms and flicked sharp points of hair into her eyes. Pulling her sweatshirt tight against the gusts, Nikki tucked her hair inside the hood and splashed the oars into the deep black water of Lake Tahoe. A hundred years ago, under the same crescent moon, a Washoe Indian in a kayak would have known how to dip the oars silently, secretly, but no matter how she tipped them, they sucked water into the air, leaving behind a trail of sound. Silvery snow tipped the mountain peaks that circled like clouds around the lake. She stayed close enough to the shoreline -- flat black trees against a glinting navy sky -- to track her progress, but far enough out to remain unidentifiable by anyone nosy enough to observe her. She could not be caught, because tonight... Tonight, she was going on a raid! And for the first time, she was going alone. She felt high with the strength of her arms and the tautness of her legs as she rowed, as high as she had felt on New Year's Eve when her mom had let her drink champagne, so even though she didn't like being out here all alone, floating above a deep, dark immensity she didn't want to think about, she wasn't about to turn back. Scott would have come with her if she had told him about it, but tonight -- tonight was personal. She was not just skulking and peeking in windows for a joke, or scrounging a few leftover Heinekens from an outside cooler. Not that she didn't miss having him along. She wouldn't mind a warm body beside her floating into this dark moonlit haze. As a steady breeze blew over the lake, the water churned, pushing her farther out than she liked. But it wasn't far now. She knew what she was doing was wrong. But a while back, being bad had stopped feeling bad. Scott had helped with that. So many rules were stupid. He had shown her a whole new way of thinking. You had to make your own way. Tonight was about making something really wrong right again. She stretched. Her arms ached. She wasn't used to rowing so much, but then, her original plans for the year hadn't included breaking into someone's house. She hadn't exactly trained for it. She had been forced into it. Three days before, the mail brought a letter addressed to her mother from a law office. That scared her. Her mother wasn't around, so she had opened it. A so-far nice day turned real bad right then. The letter said they were about to be evicted. The landlord wanted his money, and he wanted it right now. When her mom came home Nikki held the letter in her face, making her read it. "What is this?" "Don't worry, honey," Daria had said in that drifty way she had. As if everything took care of itself somehow. As if they weren't going to have to pack their things in boxes in about two weeks and go squat in a condemned building. Nikki sat her down, tried to have a practical conversation with her. Where was her last paycheck? Gone. They had had a lot of back bills to pay. Not worth screaming about. The bills never got paid until the third notice because they weren't Daria's priority. At least this time she hadn't gotten rooked by some guy who was off to make his mark as an artist or a musician in Vegas. What about her job? Nikki had asked. Where were the paychecks? Oh, she had lost that job a few weeks ago. She didn't want Nikki to worry and had planned to tell her just as soon as she had another one, which would be any day now. Nikki had decided. They would resort to the unthinkable. They would borrow money, using Grandpa Logan's land in Nevada for collateral. That was when her mom got nervous and darted around the living room rearranging trinkets. Finally, Daria had admitted it. She had sold the land to Nikki's uncle Bill for twelve hundred stinkin' dollars. Forty acres! Her mom shrugged, saying what was done was done. "That land is inO'Shaughnessy, Perri is the author of 'Move to Strike' with ISBN 9780440225829 and ISBN 0440225825.