Read Online Hush, Hush #1 by Becca Fitzpatrick - Free Book Online
Authors: Becca Fitzpatrick
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and I sized up the door to student records.
“Move over,” Vee said, giving me her hip.
She drew her sleeve down over her fist and drilled it into the window.
Nothing happened.
“That was just for practice,” she said. She drew back for another punch and I grabbed her arm.
“It might be unlocked.” I turned the knob and the door swung open.
“That wasn’t near as much fun,” said Vee.
A matter of opinion.
“You go in,” Vee instructed. “I’m going to keep surveillance. If all goes well, we’ll rendezvous in an hour. Meet me at the Mexican restaurant on the corner of Drake and Beech.” She crouch-walked back down the hall.
I was left standing half in, half out of the narrow room lined wall-to-wall with filing cabinets. Before my conscience talked me out of it, I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, pressing my back against it.
With a deep breath I slouched off my backpack and hurried forward, dragging my finger along the faces of the cabinets. I found the drawer marked car–cuv. With one tug the drawer rattled open. The tabs on the files were labeled by hand, and I wondered if Coldwater High was the last school in the country not computerized.
71
My eyes brushed over the name “Cipriano.”
I wrenched the file from the crammed drawer. I held it in my hands a moment, trying to convince myself there was nothing too wrong with what I was about to do. So what if there was private information inside?
As Patch’s biology partner, I had a right to know these things.
Outside, voices filled the hall.
I fumbled the file open and immediately flinched. It didn’t make any sense.
The voices advanced.
I shoved the file randomly inside the drawer and gave it a push, sending it rattling back into the cabinet. As I turned, I froze. On the other side of the window, the principal stopped midstride, his gaze latching onto me.
Whatever he’d been saying to the group, which probably consisted of every major player on the school’s faculty, trailed off. “Excuse me a moment,” I heard him say. The group continued hustling forward. He did not.
He opened the door. “This area is off-limits to students.”
I tried on a helpless face. “I’m so sorry. I’m trying to find the nurse’s offi ce. The secretary said third door on the right, but I think I miscounted…
. ” I threw my hands up. “I’m lost.”
Before he could respond, I tugged at the zipper on my backpack. “I’m supposed to register these. Iron pills,” I explained. “I’m anemic.”
He studied me for a moment, his brow creasing. I thought I could see 72
him weighing his options: stick around and deal with me, or deal with a bomb threat. He jerked his chin out the door. “I need you to exit the building immediately.”
He propped the door wide and I ducked out under his arm, my smile collapsing.
An hour later I slid into a corner booth at the Mexican restaurant on the corner of Drake and Beech. A ceramic cactus and a stuffed coyote were mounted on the wall above me. A man wearing a sombrero wider than he was tall sauntered over. Strumming chords on his guitar, he serenaded me while the hostess laid menus on the table. I frowned at the insignia on the front cover. The Borderline. I hadn’t eaten here before, yet something about the name sounded vaguely familiar.
Vee came up behind me and flopped into the opposite seat. Our waiter was on her heels.
“Four chimis, extra sour cream, a side of nachos, and a side of black beans,” Vee told him without consulting the menu.
“One red burrito,” I said.
“Separate bills?” he asked.
“I’m not paying for her,” Vee and I said at the same time.
After our waiter left, I said, “Four chimis. I’m looking forward to hearing the fruit connection.”
“Don’t even start. I’m starving. Haven’t eaten since lunch.” She paused.
“If you don’t count the Hot Tamales, which I don’t.”
Vee is voluptuous, Scandinavian fair, and in an unorthodox way,
“Move over,” Vee said, giving me her hip.
She drew her sleeve down over her fist and drilled it into the window.
Nothing happened.
“That was just for practice,” she said. She drew back for another punch and I grabbed her arm.
“It might be unlocked.” I turned the knob and the door swung open.
“That wasn’t near as much fun,” said Vee.
A matter of opinion.
“You go in,” Vee instructed. “I’m going to keep surveillance. If all goes well, we’ll rendezvous in an hour. Meet me at the Mexican restaurant on the corner of Drake and Beech.” She crouch-walked back down the hall.
I was left standing half in, half out of the narrow room lined wall-to-wall with filing cabinets. Before my conscience talked me out of it, I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, pressing my back against it.
With a deep breath I slouched off my backpack and hurried forward, dragging my finger along the faces of the cabinets. I found the drawer marked car–cuv. With one tug the drawer rattled open. The tabs on the files were labeled by hand, and I wondered if Coldwater High was the last school in the country not computerized.
71
My eyes brushed over the name “Cipriano.”
I wrenched the file from the crammed drawer. I held it in my hands a moment, trying to convince myself there was nothing too wrong with what I was about to do. So what if there was private information inside?
As Patch’s biology partner, I had a right to know these things.
Outside, voices filled the hall.
I fumbled the file open and immediately flinched. It didn’t make any sense.
The voices advanced.
I shoved the file randomly inside the drawer and gave it a push, sending it rattling back into the cabinet. As I turned, I froze. On the other side of the window, the principal stopped midstride, his gaze latching onto me.
Whatever he’d been saying to the group, which probably consisted of every major player on the school’s faculty, trailed off. “Excuse me a moment,” I heard him say. The group continued hustling forward. He did not.
He opened the door. “This area is off-limits to students.”
I tried on a helpless face. “I’m so sorry. I’m trying to find the nurse’s offi ce. The secretary said third door on the right, but I think I miscounted…
. ” I threw my hands up. “I’m lost.”
Before he could respond, I tugged at the zipper on my backpack. “I’m supposed to register these. Iron pills,” I explained. “I’m anemic.”
He studied me for a moment, his brow creasing. I thought I could see 72
him weighing his options: stick around and deal with me, or deal with a bomb threat. He jerked his chin out the door. “I need you to exit the building immediately.”
He propped the door wide and I ducked out under his arm, my smile collapsing.
An hour later I slid into a corner booth at the Mexican restaurant on the corner of Drake and Beech. A ceramic cactus and a stuffed coyote were mounted on the wall above me. A man wearing a sombrero wider than he was tall sauntered over. Strumming chords on his guitar, he serenaded me while the hostess laid menus on the table. I frowned at the insignia on the front cover. The Borderline. I hadn’t eaten here before, yet something about the name sounded vaguely familiar.
Vee came up behind me and flopped into the opposite seat. Our waiter was on her heels.
“Four chimis, extra sour cream, a side of nachos, and a side of black beans,” Vee told him without consulting the menu.
“One red burrito,” I said.
“Separate bills?” he asked.
“I’m not paying for her,” Vee and I said at the same time.
After our waiter left, I said, “Four chimis. I’m looking forward to hearing the fruit connection.”
“Don’t even start. I’m starving. Haven’t eaten since lunch.” She paused.
“If you don’t count the Hot Tamales, which I don’t.”
Vee is voluptuous, Scandinavian fair, and in an unorthodox way,
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