Free Hush, Hush #1 by Becca Fitzpatrick Page B

a strange mix of hot and cold, and when I raised my sweats, to say it looked like two cats had been set free on my thighs would be an understatement. Limping to the dugout, I collapsed on the bench.
    “Cute,” Elliot said.
    “The stunt I pulled or my torn-up leg?” Tucking my knee against my chest, I gently brushed as much of the dirt away as I could.
    Elliot bent sideways and blew on my knee. Several of the larger bits of dirt fell to the ground.
    A moment of awkward silence followed.
    “Can you walk?” he asked.
    Standing, I demonstrated that while my leg was a mess of scratches and dirt, I still had the use of it.
    “I can take you the nurse’s office if you want. Get you bandaged,” he said.

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    “Really, I’m fine.” I glanced at the fence where I’d last seen Patch. He was no longer there.
    “Was that your boyfriend standing by the fence?” Elliot asked.
    I was surprised that Elliot had noticed Patch. He’d had his back to him.
    “No,” I said. “Just a friend. Actually, not even that. He’s my bio partner.”
    “You’re blushing.”
    “Probably windburn.”
    Patch’s voice still echoed in my head. My heart pumped faster, but if anything, my blood ran colder. Had he talked directly to my thoughts?
    Was there some inexplicable link between us that allowed it to happen?
    Or was I losing my mind?
    Elliot didn’t look fully convinced. “You sure nothing’s going on between the two of you? I don’t want to chase after an unavailable girl.”
    “Nothing.” Nothing I was going to allow, anyway.
    Wait. What did Elliot say?
    “ Sorry? ” I said.
    He smiled. “Delphic Seaport reopens Saturday night, and Jules and I are thinking about driving out. Weather’s not supposed to be too bad. Maybe you and Vee want to come?”
    I took a moment to think over his offer. I was pretty sure that if I turned Elliot down, Vee would kill me. Besides, going out with Elliot seemed like a good way to escape my uncomfortable attraction to Patch.

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    “Sounds like a plan,” I said.

CHAPTER 7
    IT WAS SATURDAY NIGHT, AND DOROTHEA AND I WERE IN the kitchen. She had just popped a casserole into the oven and was sizing up a list of tasks my mom had hanging from a magnet on the fridge.
    “Your mother called. She won’t arrive home until late Sunday night,”
    Dorothea said as she scrubbed Ajax into our kitchen sink with a vigor that made my own elbow ache. “She left a message on the machine. She wants you to give her a call. You’ve been calling every night before bed?”
    I sat on a stool, eating a buttered bagel. I’d just taken a huge bite, and now Dorothea was looking at me like she wanted an answer. “Mm-hmm,” I said, nodding.
    “A letter from school came today.” She flicked her chin at the stack of mail on the counter. “Maybe you know why?”
    I gave my best innocent shrug and said, “No clue.” But I had a pretty good idea what this was about. Twelve months ago I’d opened the front door to find the police on the doorstep. We have some bad news , they said. My dad’s funeral was a week later. Every Monday afternoon since then, I’d shown up at my scheduled time slot with Dr. Hendrickson, school psychologist. I’d missed the last two sessions, and if I didn’t 88
    make amends this week, I was going to get in trouble. Most likely the letter was a warning.
    “You have plans tonight? You and Vee have something up your sleeves?
    Maybe a movie here at the house?”
    “Maybe. Honestly, Dorth, I can clean the sink later. Come sit and …
    have the other half of my bagel.”
    Dorothea’s gray bun was coming undone as she scrubbed. “I am going to a conference tomorrow,” she said. “In Portland. Dr. Melissa Sanchez will speak. She says you think your way to a sexier you. Hormones are powerful drugs. Unless we tell them what we want, they backfire. They work against us.” Dorothea turned, pointing the Ajax can at me for emphasis. “Now I wake in the morning and take red lipstick to my