Hush Hush hh-1 Read online

  Vee came up behind me and flopped into the opposite seat. Our waiter was on her heels.

  "Four chimis, extra sour cream, a side of nachos, and a side of black beans," Vee told him without consulting the menu.

  "One red burrito," I said.

  "Separate bills?" he asked.

  "I'm not paying for her," Vee and I said at the same time.

  After our waiter left, I said, "Four chimis. I'm looking forward to hearing the fruit connection."

  "Don't even start. I'm starving. Haven't eaten since lunch." She paused. "If you don't count the Hot Tamales, which I don't."

  Vee is voluptuous, Scandinavian fair, and in an unorthodox way, incredibly sexy. There have been days when our friendship was the only thing standing in the way of my jealousy. Next to Vee, the only thing I have going for me are my legs. And maybe my metabolism. But definitely not my hair.

  "He'd better bring chips soon," said Vee. "I'll break out in hives if I don't eat something salty within the next forty-five seconds. And anyway, the first three letters in the word diet should tell you what I want it to do."

  "They make salsa with tomatoes," I pointed out. "That's a red. And avocados are a fruit. I think."

  Her face brightened. "And we'll order virgin strawberry daiquiris."

  Vee was right. This diet was easy.

  "Be right back," she said, sliding out of the booth. "That time of the month. After that, I want to get the scoop"

  While waiting for her, I found myself concentrating on the busboy some tables away. He was hard at work scrubbing a rag over the top of a table. There was something strangely familiar about the way he moved, about the way his shirt fell over the arch of his well-defined back. Almost as if he suspected he was being watched, he straightened and turned, his eyes fixing on mine at the exact same moment I figured out what was so familiar about this particular busboy.

  Patch.

  I couldn't believe it. I thought about slapping my forehead when I remembered he'd told me he worked at the Borderline.

  Wiping his hands on his apron, he walked over, apparently enjoying my discomfort as I looked around for some way to escape, finding I had nowhere to go but deeper into the booth.

  "Well, well," he said. "Five days a week isn't enough of me? Had to give me an evening, too?"

  "I apologize for the unfortunate coincidence."

  He slid into Vee's seat. When he laid his arms down, they were so long, they crossed into my half of the table. He reached for my glass, twirling it in his hands.

  "All the seats here are taken," I said. When he didn't answer, I grabbed my glass back and took a sip of water, accidentally swallowing an ice cube. It burned the whole way down. "Shouldn't you be working instead of fraternizing with customers?" I choked.

  He smiled. "What are you doing Sunday night?"

  I snorted. By accident. "Are you asking me out?"

  "You're getting cock).1 like that, Angel."

  "I don't care what you like. I'm not going out with you. Not on a date. Not alone." I wanted to kick myself for experiencing a hot thrill upon speculating what a night alone with Patch might entail. Most likely, he hadn't even meant it. Most likely, he was baiting me for reasons known only to him. "Hang on, did you just call me Angel?" I asked.

  "If I did?"

  "I don't like it."

  He grinned. "It stays. Angel.

  He leaned across the table, raised his hand to my face, and brushed his thumb along one corner of my mouth. I pulled away, too late.

  He rubbed lip gloss between his thumb and forefinger. "You'd look better without it."

  I tried to remember what we'd been talking about, but not nearly as hard as I tried to appear unmoved by his touch. I tossed my hair back over my shoulder, picking up the tail of our previous conversation. "Anyway, I'm not allowed to go out on school nights."

  "Too bad. There's a party on the coast. I thought we could go." He actually sounded sincere.

  I could not figure him out. At all. The earlier hot thrill still lingered in my blood, and I took a long pull on my straw, trying to cool my feelings with a shot of ice water. Time alone with Patch would be intriguing, and dangerous. I wasn't sure how exactly, but I was trusting my instincts on this one.

  I affected a yawn. "Well, like I said, it's a school night." In hopes of convincing myself more than him, I added, "If this party is something you'd be interested in, I can almost guarantee I won't be."

  There, I thought. Case closed.

  And then, without any warning whatsoever, I said, "Why are you asking me anyway?"

  Up until this very moment, I'd been telling myself I didn't care what Patch thought of me. But right now, I knew it was a lie. Even though it would probably come back to haunt me, I was curious enough about Patch to go almost anywhere with him.

  "I want to get you alone," Patch said. Just like that, my defenses shot back up.

  "Listen, Patch, I don't want to be rude, but-"

  "Sure you do."

  "Well, you started it!" Lovely. Very mature. "I can't go to the party. End of story."

  "Because you can't go out on a school night, or because you're scared of being alone with me?"

  "Both." The confession just slipped out.

  "Are you scared of all guys… or just me?"

  I rolled my eyes as if to say / am not answering such an inane question.

  "I make you uneasy?" His mouth held a neutral line, but I detected a speculative smile trapped behind it.

  Yes, actually, he had that effect on me. He also had the tendency to wipe all logical thought from my mind.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "What were we talking about?"

  "You."

  "Me?"

  "Your personal life."

  I laughed, unsure what other response to give. "If this is about me… and the opposite sex… Vee already gave me this speech. I don't need to hear it twice."

  "And what did wise old Vee say?"

  I was playing with my hands, and slid them out of sight. "I can't imagine why you're so interested."

  He softly shook his head. "Interested? We're talking about you. I'm fascinated." He smiled, and it was a fantastic smile. The effect was a ratcheted pulse-my ratcheted pulse.

  "I think you should get back to work," I said.

  "For what it's worth, I like the idea that there's not a guy at school who matches up to your expectations."

  "I forgot you're the authority on my so-called expectations," I scoffed.

  He studied me in a way that had me feeling transparent. "You're not cagey, Nora. Not shy, either. You just need a very good reason to go out of your way to get to know someone."

  "I don't want to talk about me anymore."

  "You think you've got everyone all figured out."

  "Not true," I said. "For example, well, for instance, I don't know much about… you."

  "You aren't ready to know me."

  There was nothing light about the way he said it. In fact, his expression was razor sharp.

  "I looked in your student file."

  My words hung in the air a moment before Patch's eyes aligned with mine. "I'm pretty sure that's illegal," he said calmly.

  "Your file was empty. Nothing. Not even an immunization record."

  He didn't even pretend to look surprised. He eased back in his seat, eyes gleaming obsidian. "And you're telling me this because you're afraid I might cause an outbreak? Measles or mumps?"

  "I'm telling you this because I want you to know that I know something about you isn't right. You haven't fooled everybody. I'm going to find out what you're up to. I'm going to expose you."

  "Looking forward to it."

  I flushed, catching the innuendo too late. Over the top of Patch's head, I could see Vee weaving her way through the tables.

  I said, "Vee's coming. You have to go."

  He stayed put, eyeing me, considering.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" I challenged.

  He tipped forward, preparing to stand. "Because you're nothing like what I expected."

  "Neither are you," I countered. "You're worse."

  Chapter 6

  The following morning I was surprised to see Elliot walk into first-hour PE just as the tardy bell sounded. He was dressed in knee-length basketball shorts and a white Nike sweatshirt. His high-tops looked new and expensive. After handing a slip of paper to Miss Sully, he caught my eye. He gave a low wave and joined me in the bleachers.

  "I was wondering when we'd bump into each other again," he said. "The front office realized I haven't had PE for the past two years. It's not required in private school. They're debating how they're going to fit four years' worth of PE into the next two. So here I am. I've got PE first and fourth hours."

  "I never heard why you transferred here," I said.

  "I lost my scholarship and my parents couldn't afford the tuition."

  Miss Sully blew her whistle.

  "I take it the whistle means something," Elliot said to me.

  "Ten laps around the gym, no cutting corners." I pushed up from the bleachers. "Are you an athlete?"

  Elliot jumped up, dancing on the balls of his feet. He threw a few hooks and jabs into the air. He finished with an uppercut that stopped just short of my chin. Grinning, he said, "An athlete? To the core."

  "Then you're going to love Miss Sully's idea of fun."

  Elliot and I jogged the ten laps together, then headed outdoors, where the air was laced with a ghostly fog. It seemed to clog my lungs, choking me. The sky leaked a few raindrops, trying hard to push a storm down on the city of Coldwater. I eyed the building doors but knew it was to no avail; Miss Sully was hard-core.

  "I need two captains for softball," she hollered. "Come on, look alive. Let's see some hands in the air! Better volunteer, or I'll pick teams, and I don't always play fair."

  Elliot raised his hand.

  "All right," Miss Sully said to him. "Up here, by home plate. And how about… Marcie Millar as captain of the red team."

  Marcie's eyes swept over Elliot. "Bring it on."

  "Elliot, go ahead and take first pick," Miss Sully said.

  Steepling his fingers at his chin, Elliot examined the class, seemingly sizing up our batting and fielding skills just by the look of us. "Nora," he said.

  Marcie tipped her neck back and laughed. "Thanks," she told Elliot, flashing him a toxic smile that, for reasons beyond me, mesmerized the opposite sex.

  "For what?" said Elliot.

  "For handing us the game." Marcie pointed a finger at me. "There's a hundred reasons why I'm a cheerleader and Nora's not. Coordination tops the list."

  I narrowed my eyes at Marcie, then made my way over beside Elliot and rugged a blue jersey over my head.

  "Nora and I are friends," Elliot told Marcie calmly, almost coolly. It was an overstatement, but I wasn't about to correct him. Marcie looked like she'd had a bucket of ice water flung at her, and I was enjoying it.

  "That's because you haven't met anyone better. Like me." Marcie twisted her hair around her finger. "Marcie Millar. You'll hear all about me soon enough." Either her eye twitched, or she winked at him.

  Elliot gave no response whatsoever, and my approval rating of him shot up a few notches. A lesser guy would have dropped to his knees and begged Marcie for any attention she saw fit to toss.

  "Do we want to stand out here all morning waiting for the rain to come, or get down to business?" Miss Sully asked.

  After divvying up teams, Elliot led ours to the dugout and determined the batting order. Handing me a bat, he pushed a helmet on my head. "You're up first, Grey. All we need is a base hit."

  Taking a practice swing, and almost nailing him with it, I said, "But I was in the mood for a home run."

  "We'll take one of those, too." He directed me toward home plate. "Step into the pitch and swing all the way through."

  I balanced the bat on my shoulder, thinking maybe I should have paid more attention during the World Series. Okay, maybe I should have watched the World Series. My helmet slipped low on my eyes, and I pushed it up, trying to size up the infield, which was lost under ghoulish wisps of mist.

  Marcie Millar took her place on the pitcher's mound. She held the ball out in front of her, and I noticed her middle finger was raised at me. She flashed another toxic smile and lobbed the softball at me.

  I got a piece of it, sending it flying into the dirt on the wrong side of the foul line.

  "That's a strike!" Miss Sully called from her position between first and second bases.

  Elliot hollered from the dugout, "That had a lot of spin on it-send her a clean one!" It took me a moment to realize he was talking to Marcie and not me.

  Again the ball left Marcie's hand, arching through the dismal sky. I swung, a pure miss.

  "Strike two," Anthony Amowitz said through the catcher's mask.

  I gave him a hard look.

  Stepping away from the plate, I took a few more practice swings. I almost missed Elliot coming up behind me. He reached his arms around me and positioned his hands on the bat, flush with mine.

  "Let me show you," he said in my ear. "Like this. Feel that? Relax. Now pivot your hips-it's all in the hips."

  I could feel my face heat up with the eyes of the entire class on us. "I think I've got it, thanks."

  "Get a room!" Marcie called to us. The infield laughed.

  "If you'd throw her a decent pitch," Elliot called back, "she'd hit the ball."

  "My pitch is on."

  "Her swing is on." Elliot dropped his voice, speaking to me alone. "You lose eye contact the minute she lets go of the ball. Her pitches aren't clean, so you're going to have to work to get them."

  "We're holding up the game here, people!" Miss Sully called out.

  Just then, something in the parking lot beyond the dugout drew my attention. I thought I'd heard my name called. I turned, but even as I did, I knew my name hadn't been said out loud. It had been spoken quietly to my mind.

  Nora.

  Patch wore a faded blue baseball cap and had his fingers hooked in the chain-link fence, leaning against it. No coat, despite the weather. Just head-to-toe black. His eyes were opaque and inaccessible as he watched me, but I suspected there was a lot going on behind them.

  Another string of words crept into my mind.

  Batting lessons? Nice… touch.

  I drew a steadying breath and told myself I'd imagined the words. Because the alternative was considering that Patch held the power to channel thoughts into my mind. Which couldn't be. It just couldn't. Unless I was delusional. That scared me more than the idea that he'd breached normal communication methods and could, at will, speak to me without ever opening his mouth.

  "Grey! Head in the game!"

  I blinked, jerking to life just in time to see the ball rolling through the air toward me. I started to swing, then heard another trickle of words.

  Not…yet.

  I held back, waiting for the ball to come to me. As it descended, I stepped toward the front of the plate. I swung with everything I had.

  A huge crack sounded, and the bat vibrated in my hands. The ball drove at Marcie, who fell flat on her backside. Squeezing between shortstop and second base, the ball bounced in the out-field grass.

  "Run!" my team shouted from the dugout. "Run, Nora!"

  I ran.

  "Drop the bat!" they screamed.

  I flung it aside.

  "Stay on first base!"

  I didn't.

  Stepping on a corner of first base, I rounded it, sprinting toward second. Left field had the ball now, in position to throw me out. I put my head down, pumped my arms, and tried to remember how the pros on ESPN slid into base. Feetfirst? Headfirst? Stop, drop, and roll?

  The ball sailed toward the second baseman, spinning white somewhere in my peripheral vision. An excited chanting of the word "Slide!" came from the dugout, but I still hadn't made up my mind which was hitting the dirt first-my shoes or my hands.

  The second baseman snagged the ball out of the air. I dove headfirst, arms outstretched. The glove came out of nowhere, swooping down on me. It collided with my face, smelling strongly of leather. My body crumpled on the dirt, leaving me with a mouthful of grit and sand dissolving under my tongue.

  "She's out!" cried Miss Sully.

  I tumbled sideways, surveying myself for injuries. My thighs burned a strange mix of hot and cold, and when I raised my sweats, to say it looked like two cats had been set free on my thighs would be an understatement. Limping to the dugout, I collapsed on the bench.

  "Cute," Elliot said.

  "The stunt I pulled or my torn-up leg?" Tucking my knee against my chest, I gently brushed as much of the dirt away as I could.

  Elliot bent sideways and blew on my knee. Several of the larger bits of dirt fell to the ground.

  A moment of awkward silence followed.

  "Can you walk?" he asked.

  Standing, I demonstrated that while my leg was a mess of scratches and dirt, I still had the use of it.

  "I can take you the nurse's office if you want. Get you bandaged," he said.

  "Really, I'm fine." I glanced at the fence where I'd last seen Patch. He was no longer there.

  "Was that your boyfriend standing by the fence?" Elliot asked.

  I was surprised that Elliot had noticed Patch. He'd had his back to him. "No," I said. "Just a friend. Actually, not even that. He's my bio partner."

  "You're blushing."

  "Probably windburn."

  Patch's voice still echoed in my head. My heart pumped faster, but if anything, my blood ran colder. Had he talked directly to my thoughts? Was there some inexplicable link between us that allowed it to happen? Or was I losing my mind?

  Elliot didn't look fully convinced. "You sure nothing's going on between the two of you? I don't want to chase after an unavailable girl."

  "Nothing." Nothing I was going to allow, anyway.

  Wait What did Elliot say?

  "Sorry?" I said.

  He smiled. "Delphic Seaport reopens Saturday night, and Jules and I are thinking about driving out. Weather's not supposed to be too bad. Maybe you and Vee want to come?"

  I took a moment to think over his offer. I was pretty sure that if I turned Elliot down, Vee would kill me. Besides, going out with Elliot seemed like a good way to escape my uncomfortable attraction to Patch.