Hush, Hush Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7
IT WAS SATURDAY NIGHT, AND DOROTHEA AND I WERE IN the kitchen. She had just popped
a casserole into the oven and was sizing up a list of tasks my mom had hanging from a magnet on the
fridge.
“Your mother called. She won’t arrive home until late Sunday night,” Dorothea said as she scrubbed
Ajax into our kitchen sink with a vigor that made my own elbow ache. “She left a message on the
machine. She wants you to give her a call. You’ve been calling every night before bed?”
I sat on a stool, eating a buttered bagel. I’d just taken a huge bite, and now Dorothea was looking at me
like she wanted an answer. “Mmhmm,”
I said, nodding.
“A letter from school came today.” She flicked her chin at the stack of mail on the counter. “Maybe you
know why?”
I gave my best innocent shrug and said, “No clue.” But I had a pretty good idea what this was about.
Twelve months ago I’d opened the front door to find the police on the doorstep. We have some bad
news, they said. My dad’s funeral was a week later. Every Monday afternoon since then, I’d shown up
at my scheduled time slot with Dr. Hendrickson, school psychologist. I’d missed the last two sessions,
and if I didn’t make amends this week, I was going to get in trouble. Most likely the letter was a
warning.
“You have plans tonight? You and Vee have something up your sleeves? Maybe a movie here at the
house?”
“Maybe. Honestly, Dorth, I can clean the sink later. Come sit and … have the other half of my bagel.”
Dorothea’s gray bun was coming undone as she scrubbed. “I am going to a conference tomorrow,” she
said. “In Portland. Dr. Melissa Sanchez will speak. She says you think your way to a sexier you.
Hormones are powerful drugs. Unless we tell them what we want, they backfire. They work against us.”
Dorothea turned, pointing the Ajax can at me for emphasis. “Now I wake in the morning and take red
lipstick to my mirror. ‘I am sexy,’ I write. ‘Men want me. Sixtyfive
is the new twentyfive.’“
“Do you think it’s working?” I asked, trying very hard not to smile.
“It’s working,” Dorothea said soberly.
I licked butter off my fingers, stalling for a suitable response. “So you’re going to spend the weekend
reinventing your sexy side.”
“Every woman needs to reinvent her sexy side—I like that. My daughter got implants. She said she did
it for herself, but what woman gets boobs for herself? They are a burden. She got the boobs for a man. I
hope you do not do stupid things for a boy, Nora.” She shook her finger at me.
“Trust me, Dorth, there are no boys in my life.” Okay, maybe there were two lurking on the fringe,
circling from afar, but since I didn’t know either very well, and one outright frightened me, it felt safer
to close my eyes and pretend they weren’t there.
“This is a good thing, and a bad thing,” Dorothea said scoldingly.
“You find the wrong boy, you ask for
trouble. You find the right boy, you find love.” Her voice softened reminiscently. “When I was a little
girl in Germany, I had to choose between two boys. One was a very wicked boy. The other was my
Henry. We are happily married for fortyone
years.”
It was time to change the subject. “How’s, um, your godson … Lionel?”
Her eyes stretched. “You have a thing for little Lionel?”
“Noooo.”
“I can work something out—”
“No, Dorothea, really. Thank you, but—I’m really concentrating on my grades right now. I want to get
into a toptier
college.”
“If in the future—”
“I’ll let you know.”
I finished my bagel to the sounds of Dorothea’s monotone chatter, interjecting a few nods or “uhhuh’s”
whenever she stopped talking long enough to wait for my response. I was preoccupied debating whether
or not I really wanted to meet Elliot tonight. At first, meeting up had seemed like a great idea. But the
more I thought about it, the more doubt crept in. I’d only known Elliot a couple of days, for one. And I
wasn’t sure how my mom would feel about the arrangement, for another. It was getting late, and
Delphic was at least a halfhour
drive. More to the point, on weekends Delphic had a reputation for
being wild.
The phone rang, and Vee’s number showed on the caller ID.
“Are we doing anything tonight?” she wanted to know.
I opened my mouth, weighing my answer carefully. Once I told Vee about Elliot’s offer, there was no
turning back.
Vee shrieked. “Oh, man! Ohmanohmanohman.
I just spilled nail polish on the sofa. Hang on, I’m
going to get some paper towels. Is nail polish watersoluble?”
A moment later she returned. “I think I
ruined the sofa. We have to go out tonight. I don’t want to be here when my latest work of accidental art
is discovered.”
Dorothea had moved down the hall to the powder room. I had no desire to spend the whole night
listening to her grunt over the bathroom fixtures as she cleaned, so I made my decision. “How about
Delphic Seaport? Elliot and Jules are going. They want to meet up.”
“You buried the lead! Vital information here, Nora. I’ll pick you up in fifteen.” I was left listening to
the dial tone.
I went upstairs and pulled on a snug white cashmere sweater, dark jeans, and navy blue driving
moccasins. I shaped the hair framing my face around my finger, the way I’d learned to manage my
natural curls, and … voilà! Halfdecent
spirals. I stepped back from the mirror for a twiceover
and
called myself a cross between carefree and almost sexy.
Fifteen minutes later to the dot, Vee bounced the Neon up the driveway and beeped the horn staccatostyle.
It took me ten minutes to make the drive between our houses, but I usually paid attention to the
speed limit. Vee understood the word speed, but limit wasn’t part of her vocabulary.
“I’m going to Delphic Seaport with Vee,” I called to Dorothea. “If my mom calls, would you mind
relaying the message?”
Dorothea waddled out of the powder room. “All the way to Delphic? This late?”
“Have fun at your conference!” I said, escaping out the door before she could protest or get my mom on
the phone.
Vee’s blond hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, big fat curls spilling down. Gold hoops dangled from
her ears. Cherry red lipstick. Black, lengthening mascara.
“How do you do it?” I asked. “You had five minutes to get ready.”
“Always prepared.” Vee shot me a grin. “I’m a Boy Scout’s dream.”
She gave me a critical onceover.
“What?” I said.
“We’re meeting up with boys tonight.”
“Last I checked, yes.”
“Boys like girls who look like … girls.”
I arched my eyebrows. “And what do I look like?”
“Like you stepped out of the shower and decided that alone was enough to pass as presentable. Don’t
get me wrong. The clothes are good, the hair is okay, but the rest … Here.” She reached inside her
purse. “Being the friend that I am, I’ll loan you my lipstick. And my mascara, but only if you swear you
don’t have a contagious eye disease.”
“I do not have an eye disease!”
“Just covering my bases.”
“I’ll pass.”
Vee’s mouth dropped, halfplayful,
halfserious.
“You’ll feel naked without it!”
“Sounds like just the kind of look you’d go for,” I said.
In all honesty, I had mixed feelings about going makeup free. Not because I did feel a little bit naked,
but because Patch had put the nomakeup
suggestion in my mind. In an effort to make myself feel
better, I told myself my dignity wasn’t at stake. Neither was my pride. I’d been given a suggestion, and I
was openminded
enough to try it. What I didn’t want to acknowledge was I’d specifically chosen a
night I knew I wouldn’t see Patch to test it out.
A half hour later Vee drove under the gates to Delphic Seaport. We were forced to park at the farthest
end of the lot, due to heavy openingweekend
traffic. Nestled right on the coast, Delphic is not known
for its mild weather. A low wind had picked up, sweeping popcorn bags and candy wrappers around our
ankles as Vee and I walked toward the ticket counter. The trees had long since lost their leaves, and the
branches loomed over us like disjointed fingers. Delphic Seaport boomed all summer long with an
amusement park, masquerades, fortunetelling
booths, gypsy musicians, and a freak show. I could never
be sure if the human deformities were real or an illusion.
“One adult, please,” I told the woman at the ticket counter. She took my money and slid a wristband
under the window. Then she smiled, exposing white plastic vampire teeth, smudged red with lipstick.
“Have a good time,” she said in a breathless voice. “And don’t forget to try our newly remodeled ride.”
She tapped her side of the glass, pointing to a stack of park maps and a flier.
I grabbed one of each on my way through the revolving gates. The flier read:
DELPHIC AMUSEMENT PARK’S
NEWEST SENSATION!
THE ARCHANGEL
REMODELED AND RENOVATED!
FALL FROM GRACE ON THIS
ONEHUNDREDFOOT
VERTICAL DROP.
Vee read the flier over my shoulder. Her nails threatened to puncture the skin on my arm. “We have to
do it!” she squealed.
“Last,” I promised, hoping if we did all the other rides first, she’d forget about this one. I hadn’t been
afraid of heights for years, probably because I had conveniently avoided them. I wasn’t sure I was ready
just yet to find out if time had faded my fear of them.
After we hit the Ferris wheel, the bumper cars, the Magic Carpet ride, and a few of the game booths,
Vee and I decided it was time to look for Elliot and Jules.
“Hmm,” said Vee, looking both ways down the path looping the park. We shared a thoughtful silence.
“The arcade,” I said at last.
“Good call.”
We had just walked through the doors to the arcade when I saw him. Not Elliot. Not Jules.
Patch.
He glanced up from his video game. The same baseball cap he’d worn when I saw him during PE
shielded most of his face, but I was certain I saw a flicker of a smile. At first glance it appeared
friendly, but then I remembered how he’d entered my thoughts, and I went cold to the bone.
If I was lucky, Vee hadn’t seen him. I edged her forward through the crowd, letting Patch fall out of
sight. The last thing I needed was for her to suggest we go over and strike up a conversation.
“There they are!” Vee said, waving her arm over her head. “Jules! Elliot! Over here!”
“Good evening, ladies,” Elliot said, making his way through the crowd. Jules moved in his wake,
looking about as enthusiastic as threedayold
meat loaf. “Can I buy you both a Coke?”
“Sounds good,” said Vee. She was looking right at Jules. “I’ll take a Diet.”
Jules muttered an excuse about needing to use the restroom and slipped back into the crowd.
Five minutes later Elliot returned with Cokes. After splitting them between us, he rubbed his hands
together and surveyed the floor. “Where should we start?”
“What about Jules?” Vee asked.
“He’ll find us.”
“Air hockey,” I said immediately. Air hockey was on the other side of the arcade. The farther away from
Patch, the better. I told myself it was a coincidence he was here, but my instincts disagreed.
“Ooh, look!” Vee interjected. “Foosball!” She was already zigzagging her way toward an open table.
“Jules and me against the two of you. Losers buy pizza.”
“Fair enough,” said Elliot.
Foosball would have been fine, had the table not been a short distance from where Patch stood playing
his game. I told myself to ignore him. If I kept my back to him, I’d hardly notice he was there. Maybe
Vee wouldn’t notice him either.
“Hey, Nora, isn’t that Patch?” Vee said.
“Hmm?” I said innocently.
She pointed. “Over there. That’s him, isn’t it?”
“I doubt it. Are Elliot and I the white team, then?”
“Patch is Nora’s bio partner,” Vee explained to Elliot. She winked slyly at me but made a face of
innocence the moment Elliot gave her his attention. I shook my head subtly but firmly at her,
transmitting a silent message—stop.
“He keeps looking this way,” Vee said in a lowered voice. She leaned across the foosball table,
attempting to make her conversation with me appear private, but she whispered loud enough that Elliot
had no choice but to overhear. “He’s bound to wonder what you’re doing here with—” She bobbed her
head at Elliot.
I shut my eyes and envisioned banging my head against the wall.
“Patch has made it very clear he’d like to be more than biology partners with Nora,” Vee continued.
“Not that anyone can blame him.”
“That so?” said Elliot, eyeing me with a look that said he wasn’t surprised. He’d suspected it all along. I
noticed he took a step closer.
Vee shot me a triumphant smile. Thank me later, it said.
“It’s not like that,” I corrected. “It’s—”
“Twice as bad,” Vee said. “Nora suspects he’s stalking her. The police are on the brink of becoming
involved.”
“Should we play?” I said loudly. I dropped the foosball in the center of the table. Nobody noticed.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” Elliot asked me. “I’ll explain we’re not looking for trouble. I’ll tell
him you’re here with me, and if he’s got a problem, he can discuss it with me.”
This was not the direction I wanted the conversation to go. At all. “What happened to Jules?” I said.
“He’s been gone for a while.”
“Yeah, maybe he fell in the toilet,” said Vee.
“Let me talk to Patch,” Elliot said.
While I appreciated the concern, I did not like the idea of Elliot going headtohead
with Patch. Patch
was an X factor: intangible, scary, and unknown. Who knew what he was capable of? Elliot was far too
nice to be sent up against Patch.
“He doesn’t scare me,” Elliot said, as if to disprove my thoughts.
Obviously this was something Elliot and I disagreed on.
“Bad idea,” I said.
“Great idea,” Vee said. “Otherwise, Patch might get … violent. Remember last time?”
Last time?! I mouthed at her.
I had no idea why Vee was doing this, other than that she had a penchant for making everything as
dramatic as possible. Her idea of drama was my idea of morbid humiliation.
“No offense, but this guy sounds like a creep,” said Elliot. “Give me two minutes with him.” He started
to walk over.
“No!” I said, yanking on his sleeve to stop him. “He, uh, might get violent again. Let me handle this.” I
narrowed a look at Vee.
“You sure?” Elliot said. “I’m more than happy to do it.”
“I think it’s best coming from me.”
I wiped my palms on my jeans, and after taking a mostly steady breath, I started closing the distance
between me and Patch, which was only the width of a few game consoles. I had no idea what I was
going to say when I reached him. Hopefully just a brief hello. Then I could go back and reassure Elliot
and Vee that everything was under control.
Patch was dressed in the usual: black shirt, black jeans, and a thin silver necklace that flashed against
his dark complexion. His sleeves were pushed up his forearms, and I could see his muscles working as
he punched buttons. He was tall and lean and hard, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if under his
clothes he bore several scars, souvenirs from street fights and other reckless behavior. Not that I wanted
a look under his clothes.
When I got to Patch’s console, I tapped a hand against the side of it to get his attention. In the calmest
voice I could manage, I said, “PacMan?
Or is it Donkey Kong?” In truth, it looked a little more violent
and military.
A slow grin spread over his face. “Baseball. Think maybe you could stand behind me and give me a few
pointers?”
Firebombs erupted on the screen, and screaming bodies sailed through the air. Obviously not baseball.
“What’s his name?” Patch asked, directing an almost imperceptible nod at the foosball table.
“Elliot. Listen, I have to keep this short. They’re waiting.”
“Have I seen him before?”
“He’s new. Just transferred.”
“First week at school and he’s already made friends. Lucky guy.” He slid me a look. “Could have a dark
and dangerous side we know nothing about.”
“Seems to be my specialty.”
I waited for him to catch my meaning, but he only said, “Up for a game?” He tilted his head toward the
back of the arcade. Through the crowd I could just make out pool tables.
“Nora!” Vee called out. “Get over here. Elliot is cramming defeat down my throat!”
“Can’t,” I told Patch.
“If I win,” he said, as if he had no intention of being refused, “you’ll tell Elliot something came up.
You’ll tell him you’re no longer free tonight.”
I couldn’t help it; he was way too arrogant. I said, “And if I win?”
His eyes skimmed me, head to toe. “I don’t think we have to worry.”
Before I could stop myself, I punched his arm.
“Careful,” he said in a low voice. “They might think we’re flirting.”
I felt like kicking myself, because that’s exactly what we were doing. But it wasn’t my fault—it was
Patch’s. In close contact with him, I experienced a confusing polarity of desires. Part of me wanted to
run away from him screaming, Fire! A more reckless part was tempted to see how close I could get
without … combusting.
“One game of pool,” he tempted.
“I’m here with someone else.”
“Head toward the pool tables. I’ll take care of it.”
I crossed my arms, hoping to look stern and a little exasperated, but at the same time, I had to bite my
lip to keep from showing a slightly more positive reaction. “What are you going to do? Fight Elliot?”
“If it comes to that.”
I was almost sure he was joking. Almost.
“A pool table just opened up. Go claim it.” I … dare … you.
I stiffened. “How did you do that?”
When he didn’t immediately deny it, I felt a squeeze of panic. It was real. He knew exactly what he was
doing. The palms of my hands touched with sweat.
“How did you do that?” I repeated.
He gave me a sly smile. “Do what?”
“Don’t,” I warned. “Don’t pretend you’re not doing it.”
He leaned a shoulder against the console and gazed down at me. “Tell me what I’m supposed to be
doing.”
“My … thoughts.”
“What about them?”
“Cut it out, Patch.”
He glanced around theatrically. “You don’t mean—talking to your mind? You know how crazy that
sounds, right?”
Swallowing, I said in the calmest voice I could manage, “You scare me, and I’m not sure you’re good
for me.”
“I could change your mind.”
“Noooora!” Vee called over the din of voices and electronic beeps.
“Meet me at the Archangel,” Patch said.
I took a step back. “No,” I said on impulse.
Patch came around behind me, and a chill shimmied up my spine. “I’ll be waiting,” he said into my ear.
Then he slipped out of the arcade.