Hush, Hush Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5
CAN I HELP YOU?”
I forced myself to smile at the front office secretary, hoping I didn’t look as dishonest as I felt. “I have a
prescription I take daily at school, and my friend—”
My voice caught on the word, and I wondered if after today I would ever feel like calling Vee my friend
again.
“—my friend informed me that I’m supposed to register it with the nurse. Do you know if that’s
correct?” I couldn’t believe I was standing here, intending to do something illegal. As of late, I was
exhibiting a lot of uncharacteristic behavior. First I’d followed Patch to a disreputable arcade late at
night. Now I was on the verge of snooping in his student file. What was the matter with me? No—what
was the matter with Patch, that when it came to him, I couldn’t seem to stop exercising bad judgment?
“Oh, yes,” the secretary said solemnly. “All drugs need to be registered. Nurse’s office is back through
there, third door on the left, across from student records.” She gestured into the hallway behind her. “If
the nurse isn’t there, you can take a seat on the cot inside her office. She should be back any minute.”
I fabricated another smile. I’d really hoped it wouldn’t be this easy.
Heading down the hall, I stopped several times to check over my shoulder. Nobody came up behind me.
The phone out in the front office was ringing, but it sounded a world apart from the dim corridor where
I stood. I was all alone, free to do as I pleased.
I came to a stop at the third door on the left. I sucked in a breath and knocked, but it was obvious from
the darkened window that the room was empty. I pushed on the door. It moved with reluctance,
creaking open on a compact room with scuffed white tiles. I stood in the entrance a moment, almost
wishing the nurse would appear so I’d have no choice but to register my iron pills and leave. A quick
glance across the hall revealed a door with a window marked STUDENT RECORDS. It too was dark.
I focused my attention on a nagging thought at the back of my mind. Patch claimed that he hadn’t gone
to school last year. I was pretty sure he was lying, but if he wasn’t, would he even have a student record?
He’d have a home address at the very least, I reasoned. And an immunization card, and last semester’s
grades. Still. Possible suspension seemed like a large price to pay for a peek at Patch’s immunization
card.
I leaned one shoulder against the wall and checked my watch. Vee had told me to wait for her signal.
She said it would be obvious.
Great.
The phone in the front office rang again, and the secretary picked up.
Chewing my lip, I stole a second glimpse at the door labeled STUDENT RECORDS. There was a good
chance it was locked. Student files were probably considered high security. It didn’t matter what kind of
diversion Vee created; if the door was locked, I wasn’t getting in.
I shifted my backpack to the opposite shoulder. Another minute ticked down. I told myself maybe I
should leave… .
On the other hand, what if Vee was right and he was stalking me? As his bio partner, regular contact
with him could place me in danger. I had a responsibility to protect myself … didn’t I?
If the door was unlocked and the files were alphabetized, I would have no trouble locating Patch’s
quickly. Add another few seconds to skim his file for red flags, and I could probably be in and out of
the room in under a minute. Which was so brief it might not feel like I’d entered at all.
Things had grown unusually quiet out in the front office. Suddenly Vee rounded the corner. She edged
down the wall toward me, walking in a crouch, dragging her hands along the wall, stealing surreptitious
glances over her shoulder. It was the kind of walk spies adopted in old movies.
“Everything is under control,” she whispered.
“What happened to the secretary?”
“She had to leave the office for a minute.”
“Had to? You didn’t incapacitate her, did you?”
“Not this time.”
Thank goodness for small mercies.
“I called in a bomb threat from the pay phone outside,” Vee said. “The secretary dialed the police, then
ran off to find the principal.”
“Vee!”
She tapped her wrist. “Clock’s ticking. We don’t want to be in here when the cops arrive.”
Tell me about it.
Vee and I sized up the door to student records.
“Move over,” Vee said, giving me her hip.
She drew her sleeve down over her fist and drilled it into the window. Nothing happened.
“That was just for practice,” she said. She drew back for another punch and I grabbed her arm.
“It might be unlocked.” I turned the knob and the door swung open.
“That wasn’t near as much fun,” said Vee.
A matter of opinion.
“You go in,” Vee instructed. “I’m going to keep surveillance. If all goes well, we’ll rendezvous in an
hour. Meet me at the Mexican restaurant on the corner of Drake and Beech.” She crouchwalked
back
down the hall.
I was left standing half in, half out of the narrow room lined walltowall
with filing cabinets. Before
my conscience talked me out of it, I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, pressing my back
against it.
With a deep breath I slouched off my backpack and hurried forward, dragging my finger along the faces
of the cabinets. I found the drawer marked car–cuv. With one tug the drawer rattled open. The tabs on
the files were labeled by hand, and I wondered if Coldwater High was the last school in the country not
computerized.
My eyes brushed over the name “Cipriano.”
I wrenched the file from the crammed drawer. I held it in my hands a moment, trying to convince
myself there was nothing too wrong with what I was about to do. So what if there was private
information inside? As Patch’s biology partner, I had a right to know these things.
Outside, voices filled the hall.
I fumbled the file open and immediately flinched. It didn’t make any sense.
The voices advanced.
I shoved the file randomly inside the drawer and gave it a push, sending it rattling back into the cabinet.
As I turned, I froze. On the other side of the window, the principal stopped midstride, his gaze latching
onto me.
Whatever he’d been saying to the group, which probably consisted of every major player on the school’s
faculty, trailed off. “Excuse me a moment,” I heard him say. The group continued hustling forward. He
did not.
He opened the door. “This area is offlimits
to students.”
I tried on a helpless face. “I’m so sorry. I’m trying to find the nurse’s offi ce. The secretary said third
door on the right, but I think I miscounted… . ” I threw my hands up. “I’m lost.”
Before he could respond, I tugged at the zipper on my backpack. “I’m supposed to register these. Iron
pills,” I explained. “I’m anemic.”
He studied me for a moment, his brow creasing. I thought I could see him weighing his options: stick
around and deal with me, or deal with a bomb threat. He jerked his chin out the door. “I need you to
exit the building immediately.”
He propped the door wide and I ducked out under his arm, my smile collapsing.
An hour later I slid into a corner booth at the Mexican restaurant on the corner of Drake and Beech. A
ceramic cactus and a stuffed coyote were mounted on the wall above me. A man wearing a sombrero
wider than he was tall sauntered over. Strumming chords on his guitar, he serenaded me while the
hostess laid menus on the table. I frowned at the insignia on the front cover. The Borderline. I hadn’t
eaten here before, yet something about the name sounded vaguely familiar.
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 fortyfive
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 welldefined
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 cocky. I 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 I 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 socalled
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.”