Unmaking Hunter Kennedy (7 page)

“I know. I know. I won’t piss off the mom. And I won’t let anyone find out who I am. Did you not notice how I didn’t strangle my replacement or shave off this dyed hair yet? I’m doing my part. What’s your problem?”

“That’s only half of it.” Martin’s voice turned even more relentless. “The car thing, the vandalism charges—if they come out in the press—all of that is marketable. It’s standard rock-star activity. But your reputation will not survive this
cutting
business.”

Hunter’s voice was stony. “I’m not a cutter. I cut myself. Once.”

Martin shrugged. “Whatever you want to call it. It can’t come out to the press. And you can never, ever do it again.”

“Christ. Back the hell off! I have no desire to do it again. What part of the whole picture are you missing?”

Martin’s eyes narrowed to a squint. He gripped Hunter’s shoulder. Hard. “Crazy ain’t sexy. And it sure won’t sell tracks off iTunes. That’s
MY
whole picture. Got it?”

“Got it.” Hunter yanked his shoulder out of Martin’s grasp, unable to feel anything but the bastard’s words slamming into his head.

Crazy ain’t sexy. Crazy, crazy, crazy...

Shit...is this what they all think about me now?

Seemingly satisfied, Martin softened his tone. “If I can’t get your mom to let you come back early, I’ll execute my
Plan-B
. Make sure your phone is charged at all times. Check for my text messages and emails at least once a day. Ignore all others. I’ll set up a special email for the duration. I’ll text it this afternoon. Do not call your mom. Let me handle that madwoman. Email or texts. Whatever you do, don’t contact the rest of the band.”

“Okay.”

“You’re going to be a kid called
Dustin McHugh
. Remember, you aren’t really ‘gone’ according to us. As soon as I get your mom convinced to change her mind, you can fly back. All right? It could take a few weeks. Maybe longer, but hopefully not much.”

Hunter nodded, finally meeting his mom’s gaze across the room. She was simply standing there with her arms crossed. Would she even come over to say goodbye? Did he want her to? Hunter blanked out all over again.

Was this whole thing really going down like this?

His body couldn’t, wouldn’t move. Hunter could only stare at the kid in the white outfit—at his mom’s closed off expression—at the way Royce and Adam were staring at the wall—at what an ass Martin looks like right now.

Crazy ain’t sexy...

God. My chest hurts. Bad.

Breathe. Breathe. Remember to breathe.

He sucked in some air.

Martin shook him. “Hunter. You’re looking ghost-pale. You’ve made it this far. Colorado isn’t going to be forever. I need you to stay cool. You
are
the band. Without you
GuardeRobe
is toast. You freak permanently, and we’re all unemployed.”

“Martin, are you sure?” Hunter gulped, almost blacking out from the exertion it took to suck in another breath. “It looks like you’ve got the band and everything handled fine.
GuardeRobe
is completely intact and it’s right over there.” He jerked his head angrily at the fake Hunter, who was currently admiring his new sneakers as though they were the best things he’d ever seen.

“Christ. This is total bull.” Hunter pulled his eyes back to Martin.

“The kid’s only for limo rides and paparazzi shots. Smoke and mirrors, man. He can’t even sing.” Martin handed him a plane ticket, a credit card, and a flimsy, laminated card that said ‘Palmer Ridge High School’.

They all bore the name,
Dustin McHugh
.

“Shit.” Hunter stared at the cards. “For real?”

“Yes. Your school ID. And don’t forget to sign the credit card with the right name. Memorize it as yours. ”

“I hate my new name. It’s—totally lame. This photo’s not me at all.”

“That’s the point. BE someone else. Anyone else. Wait for me to contact you. Don’t even think about playing the guitar or singing in public either. Do nothing but hide out, go to school and rest.”

“Tell me again. It is not going to be for long,” Hunter whispered.

“It’s not going to be for long. We called in a huge favor with the school district superintendent. Luckily she’s a huge fan. She has the school principal completely on board. The credit card is for clothes, a better disguise, and emergency supplies only. Your Aunt Nan’s involved another family—some kids—to help you blend in. The kids have also promised to drive you around. Anything else?”

“Nope.” Hunter stared again at his mom’s unrelenting back.

“I’m going to need you to swap out your backpack too.” Martin held out a plain navy, canvas pack. “You have two duffels marked Dustin McHugh that match this. Don’t forget to pick them up when you land.”

Hunter pocketed the cards and shoved the bag of scar cream into the main pocket of the new pack. His other two belongings he treated more carefully. He placed his iPhone on top of the flattened hair-color box, making sure the smiling, brown-eyed model was face up as he zipped her into the front pocket.

He handed over the white and silver,
HK
encrusted backpack without meeting Martin’s gaze.

He was done talking.

“Flight’s in two hours. Gate A36. Don’t leave the Airline Club for at least one hour. Don’t talk to anyone who comes in here after we leave. Eat some more food. Looks like you could use it.” Martin scanned him up and down. “Maybe lift some weights while you’re there, huh? Your Aunt Nan will be waiting at passenger pick up in the Denver airport. I’ll communicate as soon as I can. Promise.”

And that had been it—for him anyhow.

Within seconds the entire group rushed out the door.

Martin forged ahead, drawing the attention with his booming voice and pushing Adam and Royce ahead. His mom trailed behind the fake Hunter Kennedy, messing with his hat, hair and sunglasses.

She’d glanced back once, her expression still unreadable, before being swallowed up in the camera flashes and noise of a new crowd forming in the terminal.

Hunter floated just outside his body, and very deep into his own head as the opaque, glass door whispered shut.

Finally he’d sat, staring first at the points of blue, black and grey in the tightly bound carpet. And then at his toes flexing in his new flip-flops.

Exactly one hour later, he’d walked unnoticed to his gate and boarded his plane.

6: howie rutherford sucks

VERE

“Okay. Quiet!” Mr. Peterson, the chemistry teacher, barreled into the crowded lab holding reams of paper. “I said,
quiet
.”

He sounded as hot and as irritated as Vere felt. “I want the new
Concussion Management Form
on top of your piles. They have to get entered into the office database today or you aren’t allowed to participate in the assembly. Football team! This means you! Or no scrimmage this afternoon.
Concussion Management Forms
ON TOP. Now stop fooling around in here and get your packets completed.”

Vere turned toward the wall to take off the hoodie. Instead of the graceful move she’d told her arms to create, she got tangled up and trapped by her double-weighted bun.

The hoodie wouldn’t budge up or down.

With her face completely wrapped in black cotton, she scoured her melting brain, trying to take stock of the situation.

All is not lost.

My cami is at least cute, and from the feel of things, it hasn’t ridden up. THANK GOD.

She struggled harder. At least twenty baby hairs at the base of her neck pulled out from her efforts.

“Ow. Uuuf.”

Her head spun more. It was either her or the bun.

Fine. The bun.

She yanked as hard as she could. More hairs popped out.

“Ow! Jenna, help. Please. Help! Help!”

Within seconds her hoodie came up, then off.

Vere gasped in two long breaths. “Another minute and a new,
epic-fail-moment
would top my list. Thanks,” she said, turning with a smile.

“No problem. I can’t resist when cute girls ask for help.”

Curtis Wishford stood in front of her, holding her crumpled hoodie.

“Um,” Vere managed, choking back the remaining syllables:
bla-durd-yah-bla.

Curtis seemed to be biting back a grin as he handed over the hoodie. “Vere, I’m kidding. I knew it was you under there.”

What is he kidding about?

Am I cute or not?

Maybe I’m so low totem pole, he doesn’t consider me a real girl?

Bla. Bla. Bla. Dug-bla.

Curtis went on, “And don’t worry. No one saw you stuck in the hoodie. You won’t have to update that
list
.” He chuckled. “Do you really have a list?” he added.

Vere blinked. And blinked. And blinked. And blinked.

OMG. Try to speak. Try.

“Uh...yeah. I mean, no. I don’t. Joking. Thought you were Jenna.” Vere felt the back of her neck burn. Her stomach had started to twist and roll.

“Oh.” He shifted his feet. “I wouldn’t put a list like that past you, though. You always seem to be taking little notes.”

“I need extra study notes—sometimes.”

“So do I. I make flash cards.”

“You do?”

His gaze was warm. “It’s a secret.”

“Right.” She laughed, biting her upper lip to keep her mouth from dropping open again. She quickly glanced around for Jenna. She seemed to have vanished.

When Curtis didn’t say more, Vere risked another glance at his face.

His eyes are so nice close up. Half green and half brown with all kinds of bright specks in them.

Seems taller. He’s wearing cologne! Mmm...

“So...thanks for saving me,” she managed finally and looked away, wondering if she'd stared at his face too long.

“Sure.” When he didn’t move, Vere entered a strange, floating time-warp. She grounded herself by focusing on the white swoosh on his black sneakers.

Go on now, sporty shoes. Walk away. Please.

When the sneakers didn’t budge, Vere busied herself by shoving the sweaty hoodie into her bag.

His feet turned finally; but before she realized what was happening, her bun slipped to the side and came completely undone.

“Wow.” Curtis’s sneakers turned back.

“Yeah. I know. I’m a mess,” Vere said, darting him a glance through her hair before looking back down as her cheeks started to ache and burn even more.

“No. You have beautiful hair. I never noticed it had grown out so long. Really, really long.”

His voice was soft. Kind. Admiring?

Did he just call my hair beautiful?

She recovered her hair band and grabbed at the mass of hair, trying to pull it all back together, now terrified to look at his face.

Please don’t let him be laughing at me. Anything but that.

When he didn’t say more, Vere forced herself to talk to his sneakers again. “My hair—it’s hard to manage so...I...uh, wear it up. Probably should cut it.”

She deftly scrunched her hair back into its bun, wishing she’d said something else. Anything else. But she gave herself a mental pat-on-the-back, amazed she’d said any intelligible words at all.

“I wouldn’t cut something so pretty. You should wear it down more. It’s a nice look on you. Different.”

Vere met his gaze.

A second compliment, and no snarky, teasing remark?

Was this an actual conversation happening here?

Answer him. Answer him!

“Oh. Thanks. Yeah, maybe.” This time it was easy to smile at him. Until he smiled back and collapsed her lungs!

“Cool. I love long hair on girls. It’s my favorite.”

She realized it was her turn to talk all over again. “Yours is pretty too—not so long, and very shiny. Cool black curls—and all that too.”

Lame. Lamest thing I’ve ever said.

Curtis gave her a strange look as if to confirm her thoughts.

She had to recover—fast. “Handsome. Not pretty, of course. It’s handsome. And—dark—short, black hair like yours is my favorite on guys too. So...yeah.”

Even lamer.

“It is?” He laughed.

She bit her bottom lip, wondering if he now thought she was insane. Her whole stomach rolled up and over her heart before dropping back down to her knees.

Oh, please walk away, Curtis Wishford. I can’t possibly think of another thing to say. I can’t breathe anymore, and I can’t leave because this is my seat!

Please. Just. Go. Away.

But he didn’t.

Still grinning, he crossed his arms as if he meant to stay longer. “Charlie says your mom’s got some huge project for you two this weekend. I hope she lets you off for Saturday night’s bonfire. You thinking about going to that? How come you never go to school stuff?”

What? Is he asking me to come to the bonfire?

Or does he want me to admit that I’d die if I had to chat with people—with HIM— at ‘school stuff’?

She shrugged, focusing on answering his questions in complete sentences this time. “We can’t do the bonfire. Mom’s making us go to the lake. But...I do some school stuff. Drama things mostly.”