Silence (Hush, Hush #3)

Silence (Hush, Hush #3) Page 35

Marcie won freshman attendant and soured any desire I had to attend another coronation.

“I nominated you.” Marcie flipped her hair off her shoulders, giving me the full wattage of her smile.

“I was going to keep it a secret, but anonymity isn’t my thing.” Her words whipped me out of my reflection. “You did what?” She tried on a sympathetic face. “I know you’re going through a rough period. I mean, first the whole amnesia thing and”—she dropped her voice to a whisper—“I know about the hallucinations.

My dad told me. He said I should be extra nice to you. Only I wasn’t sure how. I thought and thought.

And then I saw the announcement about nominating this year’s homecoming royalty. Obviously everyone wanted to nominate me, but I told my friends we should nominate you instead. I might have mentioned the hallucinations, and I might have exaggerated their severity. You gotta play dirty to win.

Good news is, we got over two hundred signatures, more than any other nominee!” My mind reeled, tottering between incredulity and disgust. “You made me your charity project?”

“Yes!” she squealed, clapping her hands daintily.

I bent across the aisle, pinning her with my most hardened and severe look. “Go to the office and retract it. I don’t want my name on the ball ot.”

Instead of looking wounded, Marcie put her hands on her hips. “That would mess up everything.

They’ve already printed the ball ots. I peeked at the stack in the front office this morning. Do you want to be a paper waster? Think of the trees that sacrificed their lives for those reams of paper. And what’s more, screw the paper. What about me? I went out of my way to do something nice, and you can’t just reject that.”

I tipped my neck back, glowering at the water stains on the ceiling. Why me?

CHAPTER 23

AFTER SCHOOL I FOUND A NOTE TACKED TO THE front door: Barn. I stuffed the note into my pocket and headed to the backyard. The split-rail fence at the edge of our property opened to a sprawling field. A whitewashed barn was plunked down in the middle of it. To this day, I wasn’t sure who the barn belonged to. Years ago Vee and I had dreamed of turning it into a secret clubhouse. Our ambitions quickly died the first time we hauled open the doors to find a bat hanging from the rafters.

I hadn’t tried to enter the barn since, and even though I hoped I could say I was no longer terrified of small flying mammals, I found myself opening the door with great hesitation.

“hello?” I called in.

Scott was stretched out on a weathered bench at the back of the barn. Upon my entrance, he pulled himself up to sitting.

“You still mad at me?” he asked, chewing a piece of wild grass. If it weren’t for the Metal ica T-shirt and frayed jeans, he might have looked like he belonged seated behind the wheel of a tractor.

I skimmed the rafters. “Did you see any bats when you came in?” Scott grinned. “Scared of bats, Grey?”

I dropped down on the bench beside him. “Quit calling me Grey. It makes me sound like I’m a boy.

Like Dorian Gray.”

“Dorian who?”

I sighed. “Just think up something else. Plain old Nora works too, you know.”

“Sure thing, Gumdrop.”

I grimaced. “I take that back. Let’s stick with Grey.”

“I came by to see if you have anything for me. Information on Hank would be good. Do you think he knows it was us spying on his building that night?”

I was pretty sure Hank didn’t suspect us. He hadn’t acted any creepier than usual, which, in retrospect, wasn’t saying much. “No, I think we’re clear.”

“That’s good, real good,” Scott said, twisting the Black Hand’s ring around his finger. I was glad to see he hadn’t taken it off. “Maybe I can come out of hiding earlier than I thought.”

“Looks to me like you’re out of hiding now. How did you know I’d find your note on the front door before Hank?”

“Hank’s at his dealership. And I know when you get home from school. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve been checking up on you now and then. I needed to know the best times to contact you.

By the way, your social life is pathetic.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Scott laughed, but when I didn’t join in, he nudged my shoulder. “You seem down, Grey.” I heaved a sigh. “Marcie Mill ar nominated me for homecoming royalty. Voting happens this Friday.”

He gave me one of those complex handshakes that college fraternities use on TV. “Well done, champ.”

I gave him a look of pure disgust.

“Hey, now. I thought girls loved this stuff. Shopping for a dress, getting your hair done, wearing the little crown thing on your head.”

“Tiara.”

“Yeah, tiara. I knew that. So what’s to hate?”

“I feel stupid having my name on a ball ot with four other girls who are actually popular. I’m not going to win. I’m just going to look stupid. People are already asking if it was a misprint. And I don’t have a date. I guess I could take Vee. Marcie will come up with a hundred lesbian jokes, but worse things could happen.”

Scott spread his arms wide, as though the solution was obvious. “Problem solved. Go with me.” I rolled my eyes, suddenly regretting bringing up the topic. It was the last thing I wanted to talk about. Right now, denial seemed the only way to go. “You don’t even go to school,” I reminded him.

“Is there a rule about that? Girls at my old school in Portland were always dragging their college boyfriends back to dances.”

“There’s not a rule, per se.”

He considered briefly. “If you’re worried about the Black Hand, last time I checked, Nephilim dictators don’t consider human high school dances a top priority. He’ll never know I was there.” At the image of Hank trolling the school gym, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You laugh, but you haven’t seen me in a tux. Or maybe you don’t like broad-shouldered guys with muscular chests and washboard abs?”

I bit my lip to conquer another, harder laugh. “Quit intimidating me. You’re starting to make this sound like a role reversal of Beauty and the Beast. We all know you’re beautiful, Scott.” Scott gave my knee an affectionate squeeze. “You’ll never hear me admit this again, so listen up.

You look good, Grey. On a scale from one to ten, you’re definitely in the top half.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re not the kind of girl I would have chased after when I was in Portland, but I’m not the same guy I was back then either. You’re a little too good for me, and let’s face it, a little too smart.”

“You’ve got street smarts,” I pointed out.

“Stop interrupting. You’re going to make me lose my place.”

“You’ve got this speech memorized?”

A smirk. “I’ve got a lot of time on my hands. As I was saying—hell. I forgot where I was.”

“You were telling me I can rest assured that I’m better-looking than half the girls at my school.”

“That was a figure of speech. If you want to get technical, you’re better-looking than ninety percent.

Give or take.”

I laid a hand over my heart. “I’m speechless.”

Scott got down on his knee and clasped my hand dramatically. “Yes, Nora. Yes, I’ll go to the homecoming dance with you.”

I snorted down at him. “You are so full of yourself. I never asked.”

“See? Too smart. Anyway, what’s the big deal? You need a date, and while I might not be your number one choice, I’ll do.”

A clear image of Patch appeared in my thoughts, but I swept it aside. Logically, I knew there was no way Scott could read my mind, but that didn’t ease my guilt. I wasn’t ready to tell him just yet that I was no longer working exclusively with him to bring down Hank; I’d enrolled the help of my ex-boyfriend, who just so happened to be twice as resourceful, twice as dangerous, the embodiment of masculine perfection … and a fall en angel. Hurting Scott was the last thing I wanted. Quite unexpectedly, he’d grown on me.

And while I found it odd that Scott had suddenly decided complacency was the way to go with Hank, I didn’t have the heart to tell him he wasn’t allowed one night of fun. As he’d said, the homecoming dance would be the last thing on Hank’s radar.

“Okay, okay,” I said, giving him a playful jab to the shoulder. “It’s a date.” I put on a serious face.

“But you’d better not be exaggerating about how fine you look in a tux.” It wasn’t until later that night that I realized I’d failed to tell Scott about Hank’s decoy building and the real Nephilim safe house. Who would’ve thought homecoming would weigh on my thoughts more heavily than stumbling inside a barracks of armed Nephilim? It was times like this when having Scott’s cell phone number would have come in really useful. On second thought, I wasn’t sure Scott had a cell. Phones were traceable.

At six I sat down to dinner with Mom.

“How was your day?” she asked.

“I can tell you it was absolutely fantastic, if you want,” I said, chewing a bite of baked ziti.

“Oh dear. Did the Volkswagen break down again? I thought it was very generous of Hank to fix it, and I’m sure he’d offer to help out again, if you asked.” At my mom’s blind admiration of Hank, I had to exhale slowly to regain my composure. “Worse.

Marcie nominated me for homecoming royalty. Worse yet, I made the ball ot.” Mom lowered her fork. She looked stunned. “Are we talking about the same Marcie?”

“She said Hank told her about the hallucinations, and she’s made me her new charity case. I didn’t tell Hank about the hallucinations.”

“That would have been me,” she said, blinking in surprise. “I can’t believe he shared that information with Marcie. I distinctly remember telling him to keep it private.” She opened her mouth, then slowly closed it. “At least, I’m almost positive I did.” She set down her utensils with a clink. “I swear old age is getting the better of me. I can’t seem to remember anything anymore. Please don’t blame Hank. I take full responsibility.”

I couldn’t bear to see my mom lost and bewildered. Old age had nothing to do with her inability to remember. I had no doubt in my mind that Patch was right; she was under Hank’s influence. I wondered if he was mind-tricking her day by day, or if he’d instilled in her a general sense of obedience and loyalty.

“Don’t worry about it,” I murmured. I had a piece of ziti poised on my fork, but I’d lost my appetite.

Patch had told me there wasn’t any use in trying to explain the truth to my mom—she wouldn’t believe me—but that didn’t keep me from wanting to scream out in frustration. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep up the charade: eating, sleeping, smiling, as if nothing were wrong.