Becca Fitzpatrick: Hush Hush

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."

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.