Hush, Hush - Page 12/45

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.

CHAPTER 8

I WALKED BACK TO THE FOOSBALL TABLE IN A COLD DAZE. Elliot was bent over it, his face showing competitive concentration. Vee was shrieking and laughing. Jules was still missing.

Vee looked up from the game. “Well? What happened? What’d he say to you?”

“Nothing. I told him not to bother us. He left.” My voice sounded flat.

“He didn’t look mad when he left,” Elliot said. “Whatever you said, it must have worked.”

“Too bad,” Vee said. “I was hoping for some excitement.”

“Are we ready to play?” Elliot asked. “I’m getting hungry for some hard­won pizza.”

“Yeah, if Jules would ever come back,” said Vee. “I’m starting to think maybe he doesn’t like us. He keeps disappearing. I’m starting to think it’s a nonverbal cue.”

“You kidding me? He loves you guys,” Elliot said with too much enthusiasm. “He’s just slow to warm up to strangers. I’ll go find him. Don’t go anywhere.”

As soon as Vee and I were alone, I said, “You know I’m going to kill you, right?”

Vee raised her palms and took a step back. “I was doing you a favor. Elliot is wild about you. After you left, I told him you have, like, ten guys calling you every night. You should have seen his face. Barely contained jealousy.”