Free Hush, Hush #1 by Becca Fitzpatrick

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.”

    80
    “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 81
    tops the list.”
    I narrowed my eyes at Marcie, then made my way over beside Elliot and tugged 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 82
    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.
    I got a piece of it, sending it flying