“Look at me, I’m crying tears of joy,” Vee said, sprawling herself across the Neon’s hood in a hug. “A teeny-tiny 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 two-finger 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 hard-core bad boy,” said Vee. “Emits a certain don’t-mess-with-me 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 fine-boned, 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 deep-set 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 blue-eyed, 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 vanilla-cream-filled 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 half-dozen 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, off
ering 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 six-one.
“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?”
“S-e-x,” 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 self-composure 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.”
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.
The Complete Hush, Hush Saga Page 5