Hush Hush hh-1 Read online

  "I don't like sitting beside you," I said. "I don't like being your partner. I don't like your condescending smile." My jaw twitched- something that typically happened only when I lied. I wondered if I was lying now. If I was, I wanted to kick myself. "I don't like you," I said as convincingly as I could, and thrust the stick against his chest.

  "I'm glad Coach put us together," he said. I detected the slightest irony on the word "Coach," but I couldn't figure out any hidden meaning. This time he took the pool stick.

  "I'm working to change that," I countered.

  Patch thought this was so funny, his teeth showed through his smile. He reached for me, and before I could move away, he untangled something from my hair.

  "Piece of paper," he explained, flicking it to the ground. As he reached out, I noticed a marking on the inside of his wrist. At first I assumed it was a tattoo, but a second look revealed a ruddy brown, slightly raised birthmark. It was the shape of a splattered paint drop.

  That's an unfortunate place for a birthmark," I said, more than a little unnerved that it was so similarly positioned to my own scar.

  Patch casually but noticeably slid his sleeve down over his wrist. "You'd prefer it someplace more private?"

  "I wouldn't prefer it anywhere." I wasn't sure how this sounded and tried again. "I wouldn't care if you didn't have it at all." I tried a third time. "I don't care about your birthmark, period."

  "Any more questions?" he asked. "Comments?"

  "No."

  "Then I'll see you in bio."

  I thought about telling him he'd never see me again. But I wasn't going to eat my words twice in one day.

  Later that night a crack! pulled me out of sleep. With my face mashed into my pillow, I held still, all my senses on high alert. My mom was out of town at least once a month for work, so I was used to sleeping alone, and it had been months since I'd imagined the sound of footsteps creeping down the hall toward my bedroom. The truth was, I never felt completely alone. Right after my dad was shot to death in Portland while buying my mom's birthday gift, a strange presence entered my life. Like someone was orbiting my world, watching from a distance. At first the phantom presence had creeped me out, but when nothing bad came of it, my anxiety lost its edge. I started wondering if there was a cosmic purpose for the way I was feeling. Maybe my dad's spirit was close by. The thought was usually comforting, but tonight was different. The presence felt like ice on the skin.

  Turning my head a fraction, I saw a shadowy form stretching across my floor. I flipped around to face the window, the gauzy shaft of moonlight the only light in the room capable of casting a shadow. But nothing was there. I squeezed my pillow against me and told myself it was a cloud passing over the moon. Or a piece of trash blowing in the wind. Still, I spent the next several minutes waiting for my pulse to calm down.

  By the time I found the courage to get out of bed, the yard below my window was silent and still. The only noise came from tree branches scraping against the house, and my own heart thrumming under my skin.

  Chapter 3

  Coach Mcconaughy stood at the chalkboard droning on and on about something, but my mind was far from the complexities of science.

  I was busy formulating reasons why Patch and I should no longer be partners, making a list of them on the back of an old quiz. As soon as class was over, I would present my argument to Coach. Uncooperative on assignments, I wrote. Shows little interest in teamwork.

  But it was the things not listed that bothered me most. I found the location of Patch's birthmark eerie, and I was spooked by the incident at my window last night. I didn't outright suspect Patch of spying on me, but I couldn't ignore the coincidence that I was almost positive I'd seen someone looking in my window just hours after I'd met him.

  At the thought of Patch spying on me, I reached inside the front compartment of my backpack and shook two iron pills from a bottle, swallowing them whole. They caught in my throat a moment, then found their way down.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Patch's raised eyebrows.

  I considered explaining that I was anemic and had to take iron a few times a day, especially when I was under stress, but I thought better. The anemia wasn't life threatening… as long as I took regular doses of iron. I wasn't paranoid to the point that I thought Patch meant me harm, but somehow, my medical condition was a vulnerability that felt better kept secret.

  "Nora?"

  Coach stood at the front of the room, his hand outstretched in a gesture that showed he was waiting for one thing-my answer. A slow burn made its way up my cheeks.

  "Could you repeat the question?" I asked.

  The class snickered.

  Coach said, with slight irritation, "What qualities are you attracted to in a potential mate?"

  "Potential mate?"

  "Come on now, we haven't got all afternoon."

  I could hear Vee laughing behind me.

  My throat seemed to constrict. "You want me to list characteristics of a…?"

  "Potential mate, yes, that would be helpful."

  Without meaning to, I looked sideways at Patch. He was eased back in his seat, one notch above a slouch, studying me with satisfaction. He flashed his pirate smile and mouthed, We're waiting.

  I stacked my hands on the table, hoping I looked more composed than I felt. "I've never thought about it before."

  "Well, think fast."

  "Could you call on someone else first?"

  Coach gestured impatiently to my left. "You're up, Patch."

  Unlike me, Patch spoke with confidence. He had himself positioned so his body was angled slightly toward mine, our knees mere inches apart.

  "Intelligent. Attractive. Vulnerable."

  Coach was busy listing the adjectives on the board. "Vulnerable?" he asked. "How so?"

  Vee spoke up. "Does this have anything to do with the unit we're studying? Because I can't find anything about desired characteristics of a mate anywhere in our text."

  Coach stopped writing long enough to look over his shoulder. "Every animal on the planet attracts mates with the goal of reproduction. Frogs swell their bodies. Male gorillas beat their chests. Have you ever watched a male lobster rise up on the tips of his legs and snap his claws, demanding female attention? Attraction is the first element of all animal reproduction, humans included. Why don't you give us your list, Miss Sky?"

  Vee held up five fingers. "Gorgeous, wealthy, indulgent, fiercely protective, and just a little bit dangerous." A finger went down with each description.

  Patch laughed under his breath. "The problem with human attraction is not knowing if it will be returned."

  "Excellent point," Coach said.

  "Humans are vulnerable," Patch continued, "because they're capable of being hurt." At this, Patch's knee knocked against mine. I scooted away, not daring to let myself wonder what he meant by the gesture.

  Coach nodded. "The complexity of human attraction-and reproduction-is one of the features that set us apart from other species."

  I thought I heard Patch snort at this, but it was a very soft sound, and I couldn't be sure.

  Coach continued, "Since the dawn of time, women have been attracted to mates with strong survival skills-like intelligence and physical prowess-because men with these qualities are more likely to bring home dinner at the end of the day." He stuck his thumbs in the air and grinned. "Dinner equals survival, team."

  No one laughed.

  "Likewise," he continued, "men are attracted to beauty because it indicates health and youth-no point mating with a sickly woman who won't be around to raise the children." Coach pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and chuckled.

  "That is so sexist," Vee protested. "Tell me something that relates to a woman in the twenty-first century."

  "If you approach reproduction with an eye to science, Miss Sky, you'll see that children are the key to the survival of our species. And the more children you have, the greater your contribution to the gene pool."

  I practically heard Vee's eyes rolling. "I think we're finally getting close to today's topic. Sex."

  "Almost," said Coach, holding up a finger. "Before sex comes attraction, but after attraction comes body language. You have to communicate 'I'm interested' to a potential mate, only not in so many words."

  Coach pointed beside me. "All right, Patch. Let's say you're at a party. The room is full of girls of all different shapes and sizes. You see blonds, brunettes, redheads, a few girls with black hair. Some are talkative, while others appear shy. You've found one girl who fits your profile-attractive, intelligent, and vulnerable. How do you let her know you're interested?"

  "Single her out. Talk to her."

  "Good. Now for the big question-how do you know if she's game or if she wants you to move on?"

  "I study her," Patch said. "I figure out what she's thinking and feeling. She's not going to come right out and tell me, which is why I have to pay attention. Does she turn her body toward mine? Does she hold my eyes, then look away? Does she bite her lip and play with her hair, the way Nora is doing right now?"

  Laughter rose in the room. I dropped my hands to my lap.

  "She's game," said Patch, bumping my leg again. Of all things, I blushed.

  "Very good! Very good!" Coach said, his voice charged, smiling broadly at our attentiveness.

  "The blood vessels in Nora's face are widening and her skin is warming," Patch said. "She knows she's being evaluated. She likes the attention, but she's not sure how to handle it."

  "I am not blushing."

  "She's nervous," Patch said. "She's stroking her arm to draw attention away from her face and down to her figure, or maybe her skin. Both are strong selling points."

  I nearly choked. He's joking, I told myself. No
, he's insane. I had no experience dealing with lunatics, and it showed. I felt like I spent most of our time together staring at Patch, mouth agape. If I had any illusions about keeping up with him, I was going to have to figure out a new approach.

  I placed my hands flat against the table, held my chin high, and tried to look as if I still possessed some dignity. "This is ridiculous."

  Stretching his arm out to his side with exaggerated slyness, Patch hung it on the back of my chair. I had the strange feeling that this was a threat aimed entirely at me, and that he was unaware and uncaring of how the class received it. They laughed, but he didn't seem to hear it, holding my eyes so singly with his own that I almost believed he'd carved a small, private world for us that no one else could reach.

  Vulnerable, he mouthed.

  I locked my ankles around the legs of my chair and jerked forward, feeling the weight of his arm drop off the back of the seat. I was not vulnerable.

  "And there you have it!" Coach said. "Biology in motion."

  "Can we please talk about sex now?" asked Vee.

  "Tomorrow. Read chapter seven and be ready for a discussion first thing."

  The bell rang, and Patch scraped his chair back. "That was fun. Let's do it again sometime." Before I could come up with something more pithy than No, thanks, he edged behind me and disappeared out the door.

  "I'm starting a petition to have Coach fired," Vee said, coming to my table. "What was up with class today? It was watered-down porn. He practically had you and Patch on top of your lab table, horizontal, minus your clothes, doing the Big Deed-"

  I nailed her with a look that said, Does it look like I want a replay?

  "Yeesh," Vee said, stepping back.

  "I need to talk to Coach. I'll meet you at your locker in ten minutes."

  "Sure thing."

  Coach kicked back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. "I like the seating chart. Almost as much as I like this new man-to-man play I'm working on for Saturday's game."

  I set a copy of the school code of conduct and student rights down on top of it. "By law, no student should feel threatened on school property."

  "You feel threatened?"

  "I feel uncomfortable. And I'd like to propose a solution." When Coach didn't cut me off, I drew a confident breath. "I will tutor any student from any of your biology classes-if you will seat me beside Vee again."

  I made my way up to Coach's desk, where he sat hunched over a book of basketball plays. At first glance all the Xs and Os made it look like he'd been playing tic-tac-toe.

  'Hi, Nora," he said without looking up. "What can I do for you?"

  "I'm here to tell you the new seating chart and lesson plan is making me uncomfortable."

  "Patch could use a tutor."

  I resisted gritting my teeth. "That defeats the point."

  "Did you see him today? He was involved in the discussion. I haven't heard him say one word all year, but I put him next to you and-bingo. His grade in here is going to improve."

  "And Vee's is going to drop."

  "That happens when you can't look sideways to get the right answer," he said dryly.

  "Vee's problem is lack of dedication. I'll tutor her."

  "No can do." Glancing at his watch, he said, "I'm late for a meeting. Are we done here?"

  I squeezed my brain for one more argument, but it appeared I was fresh out of inspiration.

  "Let's give the seating chart a few more weeks. Oh, and I was serious about tutoring Patch. I'll count you in." Coach didn't wait for my answer; he whistled the tune to Jeopardy and ducked out the door.

  By seven o'clock the sky had glowered into an inky blue, and I zipped up my coat for warmth. Vee and I were on our way from the movie theater to the parking lot, having just watched The Sacrifice. It was my job to review movies for the eZine, and since I'd already seen every other movie showing at the theater, we'd resigned ourselves to the latest urban chiller.

  "That," Vee said, "was the freakiest movie I have ever seen. As a rule, we are no longer allowed to see anything suggestive of horror."

  Fine by me. Take into consideration that someone had been lurking outside my bedroom window last night and compound it with watching a fully developed stalker movie tonight, and I was starting to feel a little bit paranoid.

  "Can you imagine?" Vee said. "Living your whole life never having a clue that the only reason you're being kept alive is to be used as a sacrifice?"

  We both shuddered.

  "And what was up with that altar?" she continued, annoyingly unaware that I would have rather talked about the life cycle of fungi than about the movie. "Why did the bad guy light the stone on fire before tying her down? When I heard her flesh sizzle-"

  "Okay!" I practically shouted. "Where to next?"

  "And can I just say if a guy ever kisses me like that, I will start dry heaving. Repulsive doesn't begin to describe what was going on with his mouth. That was makeup, right? I mean, nobody actually has a mouth like that in real life-"

  "My review is due by midnight," I said, cutting across her.

  "Oh. Right. To the library, then?" Vee unlocked the doors to her 1995 purple Dodge Neon. "You're being awfully touchy, you know."

  I slid into the passenger seat. "Blame the movie." Blame the Peeping Tom at my window last night.

  "I'm not talking about just tonight. I've noticed," she said with a mischievous curve of her mouth, "that you've been unusually crabby for a good half hour at the end of bio the past two days."

  "Also easy. Blame Patch."

  Vee's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. She adjusted it for a better look at her teeth. She licked them, giving a practiced smile. "I have to admit, his dark side calls to me."

  I had no desire to admit it, but Vee wasn't alone. I felt drawn to Patch in a way I'd never felt drawn to anyone. There was a dark magnetism between us. Around him, I felt lured to the edge of danger. At any moment, it felt like he could push me over the edge.

  "Hearing you say that makes me want to-" I paused, trying to think of exactly what our attraction to Patch did make me want to do. Something unpleasant.

  "Tell me you don't think he's good-looking," Vee said, "and I promise I'll never bring up his name again."

  I reached to turn on the radio. Of all things, there had to be something better to do than ruin our evening by inviting Patch, albeit abstractly, into it. Sitting beside him for one hour ever) day, five days a week, was plenty more than I could take. I wasn't giving him my evenings, too.

  "Well?" Vee pressed.

  "He could be good-looking. But I'd be the last to know. I'm a tainted juror on this one, sorry."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means I can't get beyond his personality. No amount of beauty could make up for it."

  "Not beauty. He's… hard-edged. Sexy."

  I rolled my eyes.

  Vee honked and tapped her brake as a car pulled in front of her. "What? You disagree, or rough-and-roguish isn't your type?"

  "I don't have a type," I said. "I'm not that narrow."

  Vee laughed. "You, babe, are more than narrow-you're confined. Cramped. Your spectrum is about as wide as one of Coach's microorganisms. There are very few, if any, boys at school you would fall for."

  "That's not true." I said the words automatically. It wasn't until I'd spoken them that I wondered how accurate they were. I had never been seriously interested in anyone. How weird was I? "It isn't about the boys, it's about… love. I haven't found it."

  "It isn't about love," Vee said. "It's about fun."

  I lifted my eyebrows, doubtful. "Kissing a guy I don't know-I don't care about-is fun?"

  "Haven't you been paying attention in bio? It's about a lot more than kissing."

  "Oh," I said in an enlightened voice. "The gene pool is warped enough without me contributing to it."

  "Want to know who I think would be really good?"

  "Good?"

  "Good," she repeated with an indecent smile.

  "Not particularly."

  "Your partner."

  "Don't call him that," I said. "'Partner' has a positive connotation."

  Vee squeezed into a parking space near the library doors and killed the engine. "Have you ever fantasized about kissing him? Have you ever stolen a peek sideways and imagined flinging yourself at Patch and crushing your mouth to his?"