Unmaking Hunter Kennedy (17 page)

Dustin pulled some orange, road-worker overalls off the rack and slung them hanger and all over his head, letting them dangle down his body. He flipped over the tag, his smile radiant with what looked to be unchecked, silly glee. “It comes with a ten-year warranty. Who wears clothes with a warranty!?”

“My uber-dork best friend,
Dustin
. That’s who. Now what’s your size? We only have twenty minutes left to collect the rest and check out.”

“I’m a thirty-two waist, 36 length in pants. XL shirts. I’ll try on a couple. If it’s a go, we’ll pull the rest without trying it on. I’m usually an easy fit.”

She nodded, taking up a pair of size thirty-two canvas shorts and some basic pants. He picked up a few of the whacked out fishing-vests.

“Now. Shirts. Choose,” she said.

“I did like those plaid ones you pointed out.” They made their way back to the flannel shirts and he started picking out some of the button downs in various colors.

“These are all long sleeved. You’ll need to get some short sleeved ones, too. We have a month or so of hot weather left.”

“Never. I don’t care. Dustin McHugh likes only long sleeved, flannel shirts. Always. And forever.”

“No. No way. Our school is a furnace. I was almost a heat-stroke casualty this afternoon.”

“You said I get to pick. I only like these shirts. Besides isn’t it dorky to dress off season?” He smiled wide and she felt a bit light headed.

“Yeah. Well, it’s your funeral.”

He shrugged happily. “Let’s make plaid, canvas and compasses my absolute trademarks. Dustin McHugh. All plaid. All canvas. All the time. And I’m never lost. What say you, dork judge?”

“Total A++. I’ll pick some additional accessories—trucker looking ball caps, lumpy sweaters, that sort of thing.”

“What exactly is a lumpy sweater? I’m a hoodie guy.”

“Hoodies are of the past. My
BGF
, wears only old-man sweaters with big buttons. And to shake things up, possibly a hand knitted, gramps vest.” She giggled, catching his eye, grinning wider when he smiled back and laughed with her.

“Hell no. I mean to be long gone before I have to wear shady woolens.”

They headed toward the dressing rooms. “Dustin McHugh, this new wardrobe will send you straight into high school insignificance.”

“Ahh. My dream come true.”

“We aren’t done. Next is footwear, socks, underwear and a few oddball school supplies. I think Tough Mountain makes a few backpacks. You’ll be so perfectly
matching
!”

She nodded to a back wall that housed the accessories. “How about the pack with the safety whistle?”

He dashed in front of her. His eyes alight with excitement. “Not dorky enough. And did you notice? NO COMPASS. Move over. I see one I like!”

After that, Dustin started picking things right and left as though they were collecting rocks, or finding pennies, and adding them to an ever growing pile on the counter. She tried a second time to convince him to purchase some lighter weight shirts, but he steadfastly refused.

Well, everyone has something.

Jenna hates all things red. I don’t like earrings. And Charlie only wears sports jerseys. What’s the difference if Dustin McHugh loves shirts with long sleeves?

Maybe it’s a good thing.

She knew firsthand dorks were super-proud of their odd looks and ensembles. She’d have to train him how to be extra smug about his new gear and his new
self
in public.

When she was finished with him, any insults to his person would be taken as huge compliments. It drove the bullies wild with frustration. This always led to more outcast backlash. In the long run though, it would ensure he had permanent, extra solid, geek labeling.

Once the label stuck, Dustin would be tagged. Untouchable and un-dateable. (Until he was allowed to go to college where she was sure dorks reigned supreme).

Didn’t they?

She sure hoped so, or she was going to spend her life alone.

15: loyalty, trust and a haircut

HUNTER

Three hours later, after a trip to the
SuperMart
optometry center and a long car ride, Hunter and Vere made their way into the Roth Family cabin.

“Oh. No. You. Didn’t.” Charlie burst out laughing as he opened the door. “Work boots! Priceless.
Dude.
You are going to get brutalized with those.”

“I know!” Hunter put down his shopping bags in the entry and stomped his boots, completely psyched. “I love these things. So much so, that I had to wear them out.”

Vere pushed in behind him, her arms also filled to the brim with a load of his brand new wardrobe. “They only had the orangey color in his size. Aren’t they magnificently hideous?”

Hunter didn’t miss Charlie’s gaze systematically searching his sister’s face as though to check if she were okay—safe—or, something.

What?

Charlie seemed satisfied with what he saw in his sister’s smiling expression and appeared to relax. After a short pause Charlie spoke up again. “And I said it couldn’t be done. You two have pulled it off. Possibly gone too far. The boots are messed-up.”

Hunter tried to stay focused on the boots and on Charlie to take his mind off his growling stomach. “You can laugh all you want but I’ll bet these boots start a trend. You’ll see. I’ll take them back home and wear them on stage.”

“Yeah, but until then, these bastards are going to solidify you in the lowest social strata of our whole school.” Charlie came closer and kicked the toe of one of the boots and shook his head. “Metal toe tips?”

“In case I drop a book on my foot!” Hunter grinned.

Charlie surveyed the rest of him. “Let me guess. The lenses in those nerd glasses automatically tint even darker when you walk in the sun?” He laughed again. “Perfect! You’ve become a hideous, cell phone sales guy mixed with a dude who’s all
Wild West
. Or no, wait, I’ve got it. You’re Paul Bunyan meets Waldo!”

“Cool, huh? The glasses go dark even when I’m under regular lights,” Hunter announced proudly. “The eye center guy sold us the ‘floor model’ because we told him I had a huge UVB sun ray allergy and that I’d lost my glasses on the airplane.”

Vere sighed. “I felt bad because I lied to him so much. At first he was going to make us wait five to seven days. When he said that, I cried all over him, then pretty much vowed Hunter would go blind by the end of the weekend.”

“You did?” Charlie asked.

Hunter nodded. “Oh, she did. The guy folded in two seconds. He agreed it was an emergency that I protect my eyes, but we both know it’s because he couldn’t stand to watch the little pixie tear up.”

Vere punched his upper arm.

Hunter went on, “Vere thinks these glasses will be almost black in the school lunchroom and the hallways too. What do you think?”

Charlie nodded with approval. “Brutal. She nailed it. The place is a freaking eighties, skylight showroom. Vere, you’re an artist.”

“Hey. I chose a lot of this look,” Hunter protested.

“He’s still hugely tall and noticeable.” Charlie frowned.

“Yeah, but a giant dork is still a dork. It’s a universal state of being.”

Vere set down her pile of bags. “Wait till you see his new walk. And that’s not half of it. Dad agreed to a retainer with mega wide, and double-crossed, shiny wires. It arrives Saturday via FedEx all the way from Atlanta. Overnight shipping is so cool, huh? How do they do it?”

Hunter’s gaze caught on her happy smile, charmed again by her boundless enthusiasm over small stuff. Who got excited about mail services?

The strange out of body feeling from this morning suddenly returned along with a massive headache. He was hitting a wall, and suddenly felt two hundred years tired. Every bone in his body ached, but he realized it was mostly aching with relief. Relief that no one had recognized him? Or, was it relief that this plan might actually work?

He caught a whiff of what he hoped would be dinner. It smelled like pure heaven. The milkshake had been great, but now he needed food. And hopefully, soon, a bed.

These people made Martin’s demands on his time seem easy.

Charlie flung his overlarge, football player frame to sit on the stairs that led upstairs. “Dude. I have one request before this goes any further.”

“Shoot.” Hunter tensed, waiting. He hated the word
request
, as much as he hated the words
favor
,
borrow
and
press conference
.

“When this year is all over, I get your autograph on every
GuardeRobe
t-shirt and swag I own. It’s got to be signed, ‘t
o my best bud, Charlie
’. If I’m agreeing not to rat you out for millions of dollars to Media Channel Today, I gotta have something to prove you were here after the fact. Deal?”

What little air Hunter had left in his chest swooshed out of his lungs. “Sure. That’s no problem. If you keep your mouth shut.”

Breathe. Breathe. Remember to breathe.

Charlie kept babbling on, “I wonder how much cash I would get paid for this story? Would anyone believe me if I told them Hunter Kennedy was at my lake house right now?” Charlie chuckled.

Hunter swallowed, annoyed with himself.

This is what happens when you let down your guard.

He felt Vere’s wide-eyed gaze on him but he didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see her face change as she speculated what she could get out of him. His heart crumpled into a tight, leaden ball.

What will she want?

How quickly he’d forgotten these two kids were like everyone else. New people always wanted a piece of him. A takeaway. It hadn’t even been one day and already, it had started.

“Dustin, he’s not serious!” Vere put her small hand on his arm and gave it a little squeeze, allowing him to pull in a long, full breath.

“Charlie’s the most loyal person I know. He defines himself by it. If you have his word you have it forever. He only pretends he’s a jerk. We’ve promised our mom, Nan, and now you. Believe me, the last thing we’d ever do is blow your cover. Not after we’ve promised. Not after all this hard work. We’ve sworn to protect you, and protect you we will.” Her expression had grown fierce and earnest. “Take it back, Charlie. Dustin has no idea you are kidding, and it’s completely rude what you said! We’re friends now! Jeez.”

Charlie hopped up and pulled Vere into a gentle headlock, tagging his knuckles into her crown before letting her go. Vere smiled at the unusual treatment.

“Dude.
Dustin.
That was bad form on my part. I apologize,” Charlie said, flushing slightly. “I’d never rat you out, and well...what can I say? I’m an ass. Sorry.”

Hunter sighed, slowly warming up to the big oaf. If Vere loved him, the kid must be cool, somewhere, somehow. Maybe he needed to relax and give Charlie a real chance. “No. It’s no problem. Of course I’ll get you both any
GuardeRobe
junk you want. Signed to my best friends. I promise.”

Charlie smiled, and Hunter smiled back. And it almost felt sincere!

“Let’s all lay off poor Dustin for a bit,” Mrs. Roth said, coming in from the kitchen.

Please let her save me.

She came forward and peered closely at his face. “You already look very different, and completely disguised. I love what you’ve chosen.”

“Thanks.” Hunter had meant
thanks
for telling them all to lay off, but he was pleased with her praise.

Mrs. Roth seemed to get that he was tired and feeling really off right then. “Has anyone ever told you what a good sport you are, young man?” She gave him a quick hug, and he didn’t have the urge to pull away.

“I’m used to doing what people tell me to do,” Hunter answered honestly as he breathed her in. He could swear Mrs. Roth smelled like fresh baked bread and warm blankets.

“This—all of us—it’s all pretty overwhelming, isn’t it?” she asked, stepping back so she could see his eyes.

He gave her a half-smile. Her questions were the kind he knew he didn’t have to answer.

Nice.

Mrs. Roth continued, “Your Aunt Nan’s in the kitchen. She’s brought your other stuff. Tomorrow we’ll let you sleep in, and then, we’ll get you into some sunshine. The hard part is over. This three day weekend you will give you extra time to rest. She frowned. "Learn how to slouch better, cover up your voice and well...we’ll try to make it as fun as possible while we work all that out. Okay?”

He nodded. “You sound so positive that all this will work. And exactly like Vere.”

She smiled. “I hope you’re going to like it here. Do you hike?”

“I now own brand new hiking shoes. Vere made me buy them,” he evaded.

“Great. Then you hike. Who’s hungry? Charlie, show Dustin the guest room. Vere, wash up, you’re sharing with Nan. Dinner is in five.”

“Dad said he’d make it here by nine.” Vere darted Hunter a smile and trailed her mom into the next room, saying, “After dinner, Hunter's going to let me
unmake
his hair-cut some. Do we have any blunt, terrible scissors?” She looked over her shoulder and shot him one last smirk.

“Dude. You coming?” Charlie called, halfway up the wide, pine stairs.

“Right behind you,” he lied. Because without Vere’s happy energy pulsing right next to him, he was finding it very difficult to walk on his own.