Hush, Hush Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4
FLYING DOWN HAWTHORNE, I DROVE PAST MY house, circled back, cut over to Beech, and
headed back toward the center of Coldwater. I speeddialed
Vee. “Something happened—I—he—it—
out of nowhere—the Neon—” “You’re breaking up. What?”
I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. I was trembling down to my toes. “He came out of
nowhere.”
“Who?”
“He—” I tried to net my thoughts and funnel them into words. “He jumped in front of the car!”
“Oh, man. Ohmanohmanohman.
You hit a deer? Are you okay? What about Bambi?” She half
wailed, half groaned. “The Neon?”
I opened my mouth, but Vee cut me off.
“Forget it. I’ve got insurance. Just tell me there aren’t deer parts all over my baby… . No deer parts,
right?”
Whatever answer I was about to give faded into the background. My mind was two steps ahead. A deer.
Maybe I could pass the whole thing off as hitting a deer. I wanted to confide in Vee, but I didn’t want to
sound crazy, either. How was I going to explain watching the guy I hit rise to his feet and begin tearing
off the car door? I stretched my collar down past my shoulder. No red marks where he’d gripped me
that I could see …
I came to myself with a start. Was I actually considering denying it had happened? I knew what I’d
seen. It was not my imagination.
“Holy freak show,” Vee said. “You’re not answering. The deer is lodged in my headlights, isn’t he?
You’re driving around with him stuck to the front of the car like a snowplow.”
“Can I sleep at your place?” I wanted to get off the streets. Out of the dark. With a sudden intake of air,
I realized to get to Vee’s, I’d have to drive back through the intersection where I’d hit him.
“I’m down in my room,” said Vee. “Let yourself in. See you in a few.”
With my hands tight on the steering wheel, I pushed the Neon through the rain, praying the light at
Hawthorne would be green in my favor. It was, and I floored it through the intersection, keeping my
eyes straight ahead, but at the same time, stealing glimpses into the shadows along the side of the road.
There was no sign of the guy in the ski mask.
Ten minutes later I parked the Neon in Vee’s driveway. The damage to the door was extensive, and I had
to put my foot to it and kick my way out. Then I jogged to the front door, bolted myself inside, and
hurried down the basement stairs.
Vee was sitting crosslegged
on her bed, notebook propped between her knees, earbuds plugged in, iPod
turned up all the way. “Do I want to see the damage tonight, or should I wait until I’ve had at least seven
hours of sleep?” she called over the music.
“Maybe option number two.”
Vee snapped the notebook shut and tugged out the earbuds. “Let’s get it over with.”
When we got outside, I stared at the Neon for a long moment. It wasn’t a warm night, but the weather
wasn’t the cause of the goose bumps rippling over my arms. No smashed driver’sside
window. No
bend in the door.
“Something’s not right,” I said. But Vee wasn’t listening. She was busy inspecting every square inch of
the Neon.
I stepped forward and poked the driver’sside
window. Solid glass. I closed my eyes. When I reopened
them, the window was still intact.
I walked around the back of the car. I’d completed almost a full circle when I came up short.
A fine crack bisected the windshield.
Vee saw it at the same time. “Are you sure it wasn’t a squirrel?”
My mind flashed back to the lethal eyes behind the ski mask. They were so black I couldn’t distinguish
the pupils from the irises. Black like … Patch’s.
“Look at me, I’m crying tears of joy,” Vee said, sprawling herself across the Neon’s hood in a hug. “A
teenytiny
crack. That’s it!”
I manufactured a smile, but my stomach soured. Five minutes ago, the window was smashed out and
the door was bowed. Looking at the car now, it seemed impossible. No, it seemed crazy. But I saw his
fist punch through the glass, and I felt his fingernails bite into my shoulder.
Hadn’t I?
The harder I tried to recall the crash, the more I couldn’t. Little blips of missing information cut across
my memory. The details were fading. Was he tall? Short? Thin? Bulky? Had he said anything?
I couldn’t remember. That was the most frightening part.
Vee and I left her house at seven fifteen the following morning and drove to Enzo’s Bistro to grab a
breakfast of steamed milk. With my hands wrapped around my china cup, I tried to warm away the deep
chill inside me. I’d showered, pulled on a camisole and cardigan borrowed from Vee’s closet, and swept
on some makeup, but I hardly remembered doing it.
“Don’t look now,” Vee said, “but Mr. Green Sweater keeps looking this way, estimating your long legs
through your jeans… . Oh! He just saluted me. I am not kidding. A little twofinger
military salute.
How adorable.”
I wasn’t listening. Last night’s accident had replayed itself in my head all night, chasing away any
chance of sleep. My thoughts were in tangles, my eyes were dry and heavy, and I couldn’t concentrate.
“Mr. Green Sweater looks normal, but his wingman looks hardcore
bad boy,” said Vee. “Emits a
certain don’tmesswithme
signal. Tell me he doesn’t look like Dracula’s spawn. Tell me I’m
imagining things.”
Lifting my eyes just high enough to get a look at him without appearing that I was, I took in his fineboned,
handsome face. Blond hair hung at his shoulders. Eyes the color of chrome. Unshaven.
Impeccably dressed in a tailored jacket over his green sweater and dark designer jeans. I said, “You’re
imagining things.”
“Did you miss the deepset
eyes? The widow’s peak? The tall, lanky build? He might even be tall
enough for me.”
Vee is closing in on six feet tall, but she has a thing for heels. High heels. She also has a thing about not
dating shorter guys.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” Vee asked. “You’ve gone all incommunicado. This isn’t about the crack in my
windshield, is it? So what if you hit an animal? It could happen to anyone. Granted, the chances would
be a lot slimmer if your mom relocated out of the wilderness.”
I was going to tell Vee the truth about what happened. Soon. I just needed a little time to sort out the
details. The problem was, I didn’t see how I could. The only details left were spotty, at best. It was as if
an eraser had scrubbed my memory blank. Thinking back, I remembered the heavy rain cascading
down the Neon’s windows, causing everything outside to blur. Had I in fact hit a deer?
“Mmm, check it out,” said Vee. “Mr. Green Sweater is getting out of his seat. Now that’s a body that
hits the gym regularly. He is definitely making his way toward us, his eyes pursuing the real estate, your
real estate, that is.”
A half beat later we were greeted with a low, pleasant “Hello.”
Vee and I looked up at the same time. Mr. Green Sweater stood just back from our table, his thumbs
hooked in the pockets of his jeans. He was blueeyed,
with stylishly shaggy blond hair swept across his
forehead.
“Hello yourself,” Vee said. “I’m Vee. This is Nora Grey.”
I frowned at Vee. I did not appreciate her tagging on my last name, feeling that it violated an unspoken
contract between girls, let alone best friends, upon meeting unknown boys. I gave a halfhearted wave
and brought my cup to my lips, immediately scalding my tongue.
He dragged a chair over from the next table and sat backward on it, his arms resting where his back
should have been. Holding a hand out to me, he said, “I’m Elliot Saunders.” Feeling way too formal, I
shook it. “And this is Jules,” he added, jerking his chin toward his friend, whom Vee had grossly
underestimated by calling “tall.”
Jules lowered all of himself into a seat beside Vee, dwarfing the chair.
She said to him, “I think you might be the tallest guy I’ve ever seen. Seriously, how tall are you?”
“Six foot ten,” Jules muttered, slumping in his seat and crossing his arms.
Elliot cleared his throat. “Can I get you ladies something to eat?”
“I’m fine,” I said, raising my cup. “I already ordered.”
Vee kicked me under the table. “She’ll have a vanillacreamfilled
doughnut. Make it two.”
“So much for the diet, huh?” I asked Vee.
“Huh yourself. The vanilla bean is a fruit. A brown fruit.”
“It’s a legume.”
“You sure about that?”
I wasn’t.
Jules closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Apparently he was as thrilled to be sitting with
us as I was to have them here.
As Elliot walked to the front counter, I let my eyes trail after him. He was definitely in high school, but
I hadn’t seen him at CHS before. I would remember. He had a charming, outgoing personality that
didn’t fade into the background. If I wasn’t feeling so shaken, I might have actually taken an interest. In
friendship, maybe more.
“Do you live around here?” Vee asked Jules.
“Mmm.”
“Go to school?”
“Kinghorn Prep.” There was a tinge of superiority in the way he said it.
“Never heard of it.”
“Private school. Portland. We start at nine.” He lifted his sleeve and glanced at his watch.
Vee dipped a finger in the froth of her milk and licked it off. “Is it expensive?”
Jules looked at her directly for the first time. His eyes stretched, showing a little white around the edges.
“Are you rich? I bet you are,” she said.
Jules eyed Vee like she’d just killed a fly on his forehead. He scraped his chair back several inches,
distancing himself from us.
Elliot returned with a box of a halfdozen
doughnuts.
“Two vanilla creams for the ladies,” he said, pushing the box toward me, “and four glazed for me. Guess
I’d better fill up now, since I don’t know what the cafeteria is like at Coldwater High.”
Vee nearly spewed her milk. “You go to CHS?”
“As of today. I just transferred from Kinghorn Prep.”
“Nora and I go to CHS,” Vee said. “I hope you appreciate your good fortune. Anything you need to
know—including who you should invite to Spring Fling—just ask. Nora and I don’t have dates … yet.”
I decided it was time to part ways. Jules was obviously bored and irritated, and being in his company
wasn’t helping my already restless mood. I made a big presentation of looking at the clock on my cell
phone and said, “We better get to school, Vee. We have a bio test to study for. Elliot and Jules, it was
nice meeting you.”
“Our bio test isn’t until Friday,” said Vee.
On the inside, I cringed. On the outside, I smiled through my teeth. “Right. I meant to say I have an
English test. The works of … Geoffrey Chaucer.” Everyone knew I was lying.
In a remote way my rudeness bothered me, especially since Elliot hadn’t done anything to deserve it.
But I didn’t want to sit here any longer. I wanted to keep moving forward, distancing myself from last
night. Maybe the diminishing memory wasn’t such a bad thing after all. The sooner I forgot the
accident, the sooner my life would resume its normal pace.
“I hope you have a really great first day, and maybe we’ll see you at lunch,” I told Elliot. Then I dragged
Vee up by her elbow and steered her out the door.
The school day was almost over, only biology left, and after a quick stop by my locker to exchange
books, I headed to class. Vee and I arrived before Patch; she slid into his empty seat and dug through
her backpack, pulling out a box of Hot Tamales.
“One red fruit coming right up,” she said, offering me the box.
“Let me guess … cinnamon is a fruit?” I pushed the box away.
“You didn’t eat lunch, either,” Vee said, frowning.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Liar. You’re always hungry. Is this about Patch? You’re not worried he’s really stalking you, are you?
Because last night, that whole thing at the library, I was joking.”
I massaged small circles into my temples. The dull ache that had taken up residence behind my eyes
flared at the mention of Patch. “Patch is the least of my worries,” I said. It wasn’t exactly true.
“My seat, if you don’t mind.”
Vee and I looked up simultaneously at the sound of Patch’s voice.
He sounded pleasant enough, but he kept his eyes trained on Vee as she rose and slung her backpack
over her shoulder. It appeared she couldn’t move fast enough; he swept his arm toward the aisle, inviting
her out of his way.
“Looking good as always,” he said to me, taking his chair. He leaned back in it, stretching his legs out
in front of him. I’d known all along he was tall, but I’d never put a measurement to it. Looking at the
length of his legs now, I guessed him to top out at six feet. Maybe even sixone.
“Thank you,” I answered without thinking. Immediately I wanted to take it back. Thank you? Of all the
things I could have said, “thank you” was the worst. I didn’t want Patch thinking I liked his
compliments. Because I didn’t … for the most part. It didn’t take much perception to realize he was
trouble, and I had enough trouble in my life already. No need to invite more. Maybe if I ignored him,
he’d eventually give up initiating conversation. And then we could sit side by side in silent harmony,
like every other partnership in the room.
“You smell good too,” said Patch.
“It’s called a shower.” I was staring straight ahead. When he didn’t answer, I turned sideways. “Soap.
Shampoo. Hot water.”
“Naked. I know the drill.”
I opened my mouth to change the subject when the bell cut me off.
“Put your textbooks away,” Coach said from behind his desk. “I’m handing out a practice quiz to get
you warmed up for this Friday’s real one.” He stopped in front of me, licking his finger as he tried to
separate the quizzes. “I want fifteen minutes of silence while you answer the questions. Then we’ll
discuss chapter seven. Good luck.”
I worked through the first several questions, answering them with a rhythmic outpouring of memorized
facts. If nothing else, the quiz stole my concentration, pushing last night’s accident and the voice at the
back of my mind questioning my sanity to the sidelines. Pausing to shake a cramp out of my writing
hand, I felt Patch lean toward me.
“You look tired. Rough night?” he whispered.
“I saw you at the library.” I was careful to keep my pencil gliding over my quiz, seemingly hard at work.
“The highlight of my night.”
“Were you following me?”
He tipped his head back and laughed softly.
I tried a new angle. “What were you doing there?”
“Getting a book.”
I felt Coach’s eyes on me and dedicated myself to my quiz. After answering several more questions, I
stole a glimpse to my left. I was surprised to find Patch already watching me. He grinned.
My heart did an unexpected flip, startled by his bizarrely attractive smile. To my horror, I was so taken
aback, I dropped my pencil. It bounced on the tabletop a few times before rolling over the edge. Patch
bent to pick it up. He held it out in the palm of his hand, and I had to focus not to touch his skin as I
took it back.
“After the library,” I whispered, “where did you go?”
“Why?”
“Did you follow me?” I demanded in an undertone.
“You look a little on edge, Nora. What happened?” His eyebrows lifted in concern. It was all for show,
because there was a taunting spark at the center of his black eyes.
“Are you following me?”
“Why would I want to follow you?”
“Answer the question.”
“Nora.” The warning in Coach’s voice pulled me back to my quiz, but I couldn’t help speculating about
what Patch’s answer might have been, and it had me wanting to slide far away from him. Across the
room. Across the universe.
Coach chirped his whistle. “Time’s up. Pass your quizzes forward. Be expecting similar questions this
Friday. Now”—he sanded his hands together, and the dry sound of it made me shiver—“for today’s
lesson. Miss Sky, want to take a stab at our topic?”
“Sex,”
Vee announced.
Precisely after she did, I tuned out. Was Patch following me? Was he the face behind the ski mask—if
there even was a face behind a mask? What did he want? I hugged my elbows, suddenly feeling very
cold. I wanted my life to go back to the way it was before Patch barged into my life.
At the end of class, I stopped Patch from leaving. “Can we talk?”
He was already standing, so he took a seat on the edge of the table. “What’s up?”
“I know you don’t want to sit next to me any more than I want to sit next to you. I think Coach might
consider changing our seats if you talk to him. If you explain the situation—”
“The situation?”
“We’re not—compatible.”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw, a calculating gesture I’d grown accustomed to in only a few short days
of knowing him. “We’re not?”
“I’m not announcing groundbreaking news here.”
“When Coach asked for my list of desired characteristics in a mate, I gave him you.”
“Take that back.”
“Intelligent. Attractive. Vulnerable. You disagree?”
He was doing this for the sole purpose of antagonizing me, and that only flustered me more. “Will you
ask Coach to change our seats or not?”
“Pass. You’ve grown on me.”
What was I supposed to say to that? He was obviously aiming to get a reaction out of me. Which wasn’t
difficult, seeing as how I could never tell when he was joking, and when he was sincere.
I tried to inject a measure of selfcomposure
into my voice. “I think you’d be much better seated with
someone else. And I think you know it.” I smiled, tense but polite.
“I think I could end up next to Vee.” His smile appeared just as polite. “I’m not going to press my luck.”
Vee appeared beside our table, glancing between me and Patch. “Interrupting something?”
“No,” I said, yanking my backpack shut. “I was asking Patch about tonight’s reading. I couldn’t
remember which pages Coach assigned.”
Vee said, “The assignment’s on the board, same as always. As if you haven’t already read it.”
Patch laughed, seemingly sharing a private joke with himself. Not for the first time, I wished I knew
what he was thinking. Because sometimes I was positive these private jokes had everything to do with
me. “Anything else, Nora?” he said.
“No,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”
“Looking forward to it.” He winked. Actually winked.
After Patch was out of earshot, Vee gripped my arm. “Good news. Cipriano. That’s his last name. I saw
it on Coach’s class roster.”
“And that’s something to smile about because … ?”
“Everybody knows students are required to register prescription drugs with the nurse’s office.” She
tugged at the front pocket of my backpack, where I kept my iron pills. “Likewise, everybody knows the
nurse’s office is conveniently located inside the front office, where, as it happens, student files are also
kept.”
Eyes aglow, Vee locked her arm in mine and pulled me toward the door. “Time to do some real
sleuthing.”