Read Hush, Hush #1 for Free Online Page B

dream about him tonight.”
    Ugh.
    “And the fog always gets worse near your house,” Vee continued. “It freaks me out after dark.”
    I grabbed the keys. “Thanks a lot.”
    “Don’t blame me. Tell your mom to move closer. Tell her there’s this new club called civilization and you guys should join.”
    “I suppose you expect me to pick you up before school tomorrow?”
    “Seven thirty would be nice. Breakfast is on me.”
    “It better be good.”
    “Be nice to my baby.” She patted the Neon’s dash. “But not too nice.
    Can’t have her thinking there’s better out there.”
    On the drive home I allowed my thoughts a brief trip to Patch. Vee was right—something about him was incredibly alluring. And incredibly 51
    creepy. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced something about him was … off. The fact that he liked to antagonize me wasn’t exactly a news flash, but there was a difference between getting under my skin in class and possibly going as far as following me to the library to accomplish it. Not many people would go to that much trouble
    … unless they had a very good reason.
    Halfway home a pattering rain flushed out the wispy clouds of fog hovering above the road. Dividing my attention between the road and the controls on the steering wheel, I tried to locate the windshield wipers.
    The streetlights flickered overhead, and I wondered if a heavier storm was blowing in. This close to the ocean the weather changed constantly, and a rainstorm could quickly escalate into a flash flood. I fed the Neon more gas.
    The outside lights flickered again. A cold feeling prickled up the back of my neck, and the hairs on my arms tingled. My sixth sense graduated to high alert. I asked myself if I thought I was being followed. There were no headlights in the rearview mirror. No cars ahead, either. I was all alone. It wasn’t a very comforting thought. I pushed the car to forty-five.
    I found the wipers, but even at top speed they couldn’t keep up with the hammering rain. The stoplight ahead turned yellow. I rolled to a stop, checked to see that traffic was clear, then pulled into the intersection.
    I heard the impact before I registered the dark silhouette skidding across the hood of the car.
    I screamed and stomped on the brake. The silhouette thumped into the windshield with a splintering crack.
    On impulse, I jerked the steering wheel a hard right. The back end of the 52
    Neon fishtailed, sending me spinning across the intersection. The silhouette rolled and disappeared over the edge of the hood.
    I was holding my breath, squeezing the steering wheel between white-knuckled hands. I lifted my feet off the pedals. The car bucked and stalled out.
    He was crouched a few feet away, watching me. He didn’t look at all …
    injured.
    He was dressed in total black and blended with the night, making it hard to tell what he looked like. At first I couldn’t distinguish any facial features, and then I realized he was wearing a ski mask.
    He rose to his feet, closing the distance between us. He flattened his palms to the driver’s-side window. Our eyes connected through the holes in the mask. A lethal smile seemed to rise in his.
    He gave another pound, the glass vibrating between us.
    I started the car. I tried to synchronize shoving it into first gear, pushing on the gas pedal, and releasing the clutch. The engine revved, but the car bucked again and died.
    I turned the engine over once more, but was distracted by an off-key metallic groan. I watched with horror as the door began to bow. He was tearing—it—off.
    I rammed the car into first. My shoes slipped over the pedals. The engine roared, the RPM needle on the dash spiking into the red zone.
    His fist came through the window in an explosion of glass. His hand fumbled over my shoulder, clamping around my arm. I gave a hoarse cry, stomped the gas pedal, and released the clutch. The Neon screeched 53
    into motion. He hung on, gripping my arm,