Crescendo by Becca Fitzpatrick Page A

send him to hell, and away from me, forever.
    I felt my anger reignite. Why couldn’t they leave us alone? Why were they so bent on destroying Patch? Patch had told me he was the first fallen angel to get his wings back and become a guardian angel. Were the archangels angry over that? Did they feel Patch had somehow tricked them? Or that he’d cheated his way back up fromthe bottom? Did they want to put him in his place? Or did they merely not trust him?
    I closed my eyes, feeling a tear travel down the side of my nose.
I take it all back
, I thought. I desperately wanted to call Patch but didn’t know whether I’d be putting him at some kind of risk. Could the archangels listen in on phone conversations? How were Patch and I supposed to have an honest talk if they were eavesdropping?
    I also couldn’t let go of my pride that quickly. Didn’t he realize he was just as much in the wrong? The whole reason we’d fought in the first place was because he’d refused to tell me what he was doing at Marcie’s house last night. I wasn’t the jealous type, but he
knew
my history with Marcie. He knew this was the one time when I had to know.
    There was something else causing my insides to sicken. Patch said Marcie had been attacked in the men’s room at Bo’s Arcade. What was Marcie doing at Bo’s? As far as I knew, nobody at Cold-water High hung out at Bo’s. In fact, prior to meeting Patch, I’d never heard of the place. Was it a coincidence that the day after Patch was gazing at Marcie’s bedroom window, she’d wandered through Bo’s front doors? Patch had insisted there was nothing but business between them, but what did that even mean? And Marcie was many things, among them seductive and persuasive. Not only did she not take no for an answer, she didn’t accept any answer that wasn’t exactly what she wanted.
    What if, this time, she wanted … Patch?
    A loud rap at the front door brought me out of my reverie.
    I curled up in the heaps of pillows on my bed, closed my eyes, and dialed my mom. “The Parnells are here.”
    “Ack! I’m at the light on Walnut. I’ll be there in
two minutes
. Invite them in.”
    “I barely remember Scott, and I don’t remember his mom at all. I’ll invite them in, but I’m not making small talk. I’ll hang out in my room until you get back.” I tried to convey in my tone that something was wrong, but it wasn’t like I could confide in my mom. She hated Patch. She wouldn’t sympathize. I couldn’t take hearing the happiness and relief in her voice. Not now.
    “Nora.”
    “Fine! I’ll talk to them.” I snapped my phone shut and threw it across the room.
    I took my time walking to the front door and flipped the lock back. The guy standing on the doormat was tall and well built— I could tell, since his T-shirt fit on the snug side and blatantly advertised PLATINUM GYM, PORTLAND . A silver hoop ran through his right earlobe, and his Levi’s hung dangerously low on the hips. He wore a pink Hawaiian-print ball cap that looked fresh off a thrift store shelf and had to be an inside joke, and his sunglasses reminded me of Hulk Hogan. Despite all this, he had a certain boyish charm.
    The corners of his mouth turned up. “You must be Nora.”
    “You must be Scott.”
    He stepped inside and pulled off his sunglasses. His eyes scanned the hall leading back to the kitchen and family room. “Where’s your mom?”
    “On her way home with dinner.”
    “What are we having?”
    I didn’t like his use of the word “we.” There was no “we.” There was the Grey family, and the Parnell family. Two separate entities that happened to be sharing the same dinner table for one night.
    When I didn’t answer, he pushed on. “Coldwater’s a little smaller than I’m used to.”
    I folded my arms over my chest. “It’s also a little colder than Portland.”
    He gave me a head-to-toe, then smiled ever so slightly. “So I noticed.” He sidestepped me on his way to the kitchen and