Unmaking Hunter Kennedy (18 page)

16: no going back

Dustin

The tapping on his door woke him.

“Dustin. Dude. We’re going hiking. You going to sleep all day? Dustin!”

Dustin. Who the hell is Dustin?

His head, groggy and heavy with sleep, wouldn’t move. His entire body had morphed into a brick.

“Dustin,” Charlie insisted from the other side of the door.

Reality hit him like a slap in the face as he became fully awake. “Yeah. I’ll be there. Two minutes.”

He rolled out of bed and grabbed the long-sleeved blue, green, and white plaid shirt he’d left on the floor. He pulled it over his white undershirt, taking an extra second to make sure the cuffs were buttoned tightly over his wrists before grabbing his cell.

The charge was complete, but like last night—no signal.

“Still in hell,” he muttered, thoroughly annoyed. Martin might have finally texted the contact email, but now it seemed nothing would come through up here for the whole weekend.

He wondered if Martin would flip out when he didn’t respond to his texts, then he wondered if his mom or the guys missed him at all. As if it mattered. They’d been missing him for weeks already. Maybe they didn’t even notice he was gone anymore.

He felt truly strange as he caught his reflection staring back at him in the mirror.

Shit. Is that me?

He reached up and ran his hand through his
Vere-cropped
hair, fingering the uneven, dark colored clumps near his forehead. Vere had attacked him last night with a pair of mangled scissors. She’d kept his length, but made him look like he’d stuck his hair in a blender.

Worse, as he glanced lower, he remembered what he’d tried to forget. He was wearing ‘tightie-whities’.

And he had no other options in his wardrobe.

Yesterday, Vere had convinced him to add the ‘tightie-whities’ to his new wardrobe all while giggling that cute, irresistible giggle of hers. She’d charmed him so much that he’d bought 3-packs of these damn, ridiculous things to keep her laughing.

Vere’s words still rang in his head. “You have to commit all the way,
inside and out
, or no one’s going to believe it. The geek underwear will make sure you don’t forget who you are when you’re alone.”

It had sounded good at the time.

He snapped the double-wide waistband against his stomach and wiggled his butt in the mirror, but stopped when he saw how Vere had chopped up the back of his hair.

He ran his hand through the long, uneven strands.

“Shit. The girl is a menace.”

Am I going hiking in tightie-whities and canvas ranch shorts?

With this haircut, a plaid shirt, mega-geek glasses and a whole bunch of compasses?

Hell. I guess I am.

Not like I’ve got anything better to do today.

With a resigned sigh, he pulled on his new brown canvas shorts, adjusted the compass on the belt loop, and shoved his phone into one of the many utility pockets in case he could find a signal later.

He put on the black framed glasses. The late morning sun streaming into the room had already caused them to turn completely black, but he could see surprisingly well through them. In the morning light, they were uglier than yesterday, but they did hide the color of his eyes perfectly well.

He peered closer, satisfied that at any angle, he could not see his own eyes. “Dustin McHugh, you are one, freaky bastard.”

He grinned, heart lightening as he almost cracked up at himself. Maybe it was going to be fun to be someone else for a little while.

He grabbed his new hiking shoes, a pair of odd socks that Vere had sworn were only for hiking because they
wicked
moisture away from his feet.

He yanked the labels off both and put them on.

The clock on his dresser read 11:08. He never slept this late. As a matter of fact, he usually had a hard time sleeping more than six hours straight.

“Not any more,” he muttered. “I, Dustin McHugh, normal teenager with bad underwear, sleep late all the time!” He laughed as he shoved on yesterday’s Sacramento King’s cap, pulling the brim until it almost touched the top of his glasses—exactly how he and Vere had decided hid his face best last night.

The scent of maple syrup wafted through the air.

Pancakes? Waffles? French Toast!

Oh, please.

From what he could tell, Mrs. Roth was the best cook in the world. If dinner last night had only been ‘thrown together’, as she’d said, he could hardly wait for the ‘planned dinner’ tonight.

Stomach in full grumble mode, he checked his wrist coverage one last time.

Hiking. Shit. Hope I don’t die in the woods.

His stomach roared.

Oh, yeah. The smell of syrup is a very good sign.

Dustin opened his door and headed down the hall.

17: guy exposure works

VERE

Vere trudged toward the cabin with a satisfied smile. This morning, the lake had reached her definition of perfect. The water had been crystal clear, reflecting the first golden-yellow aspen leaves. And, after the long, hot summer, it had reached prime temperature. Meaning it would be swimmable up until the first frost. Hopefully that would not happen until after they came up for Labor Day in a couple of weeks.

She wiggled her lower jaw.

She’d smiled so much this morning and yesterday, the sides of her mouth ached. It couldn’t be helped. She thought of Dustin’s reaction to the herd of deer in the cabin’s driveway last night and had to giggle out loud all over again.

The guy had positively flipped.

Refused to get out of the car. He’d told her he’d never seen real deer in ‘the wild’ before. As if their driveway could ever be described as the wild.
HA.

Wait till her new
BGF
saw the bear cross the football field at their school. Their neighborhood also boasted more deer than up here at the lake. Monument was the same elevation and landscape as this lake property, minus the lake and cute old cabins, of course.

But Dustin probably didn’t know that. He was under the impression they were ‘way high in the mountains’ right now.

Vere grinned again at the memory of Dustin preening in the mirror at Rick’s. The guy had been pretty darn funny.

Guy exposure. A++

I should thank him. Tell him how much he’s helped me. But how?

The object of her gratitude was sitting on the porch, lacing his brand new hiking shoes.

Vere sat on the step below him and looked up as she pulled her wet bun into a tighter rubber band. The old panic set in for a moment, but after a quick reminder that this was ONLY
Dustin McHugh
, she settled in and started off with a simple, normal, “Hey.”

Dustin stopped lacing and smiled.

Not even a flush or tingle in her cheeks!

“Hey. You missed the waffles.”

“I had some. Hours ago, bed slug. You look great, by the way!” She grinned back at him.

Oh, marvelous day! I’m almost cured.

Not. Even. Blushing.

“Not too great, I hope?” Dustin frowned, concerned.

She giggled. “Are you fishing for compliments already? I mean you look great, as in,
terrible-dork-perfect
.”

Vere checked her cheeks with her fingertips.

How could she not have even one blush on the horizon?

Her sanity had stayed completely intact, she hadn’t fallen off the step or made a fool out of herself. She’d also managed to stay on topic.

Charlie’s right, this guy exposure works!

Hunter turned back to his laces. “Where were you?”

“Swimming.” Vere pointed behind her. “Do you swim?”

He blinked, as though surprised. “Not in lakes. Ever. Doesn’t it weird you out, all those fish, snapping turtles, frogs and slimy plants?” he asked.

“It’s a sandy bottom lake—eroded granite. There are definitely fish, but no slimy stuff. And no turtles or frogs live up here. It’s not a pond for goodness sakes. It’s a lake.”

“Is there a difference?”

He looked so skeptical, that she giggled. “Yes. Oh, man.” She frowned. “We didn’t buy you a swimsuit. You can borrow one of Charlie’s. I’m sure we’ll swim after the hike, and you’ll see for yourself.”

He looked positively petrified. “Not on your life. I think the hike will be plenty ‘nature up close’ for one day, thanks.”

She laughed.

Charlie came out on the porch with a bottle of sunscreen. “Lather up. Unless you want to be lobster-red later.”

“Why?” Dustin asked. “I’m already tan. The last place I stayed had this awesome private deck where I tanned every day.”

Vere snorted. “Our Colorado sunshine comes with a wicked secret. It will burn right through your...” she glanced up so she could see his reaction to the zinger she was about to let fly, but his lenses, now black from soaking up the sun, had obscured his eyes. Her inability to see his gaze teasing back, disappointed her more than she could say.

Dustin crossed his arms with a frown. “The sun will burn right through my what?”

“Oh, um,” Vere recovered. “High altitude sunburns are the stuff of legends. You do not want one, that’s all,” she finished lamely. She smeared some sunscreen across her nose, took a huge squirt for her legs and offered the bottle to Dustin.

Charlie noticed Dustin’s glasses as well. “Whoa. Your lenses look like ink. That’s a shockingly hideous effect. I hardly remember who you were yesterday.”

“Good. That’s what we’d hoped for, right?” Dustin smeared the cream onto the back of his neck and started on his face.

“No one at school will ever catch on,” Charlie added, shaking his head. “Amazing.”

“What exactly am I supposed to do while I’m at your school? I mean, beyond going to classes and all that.”

“What skills do you have? Other than standing still, smiling and looking all famous, I mean?” Charlie asked, pulling a face at him.

“The obvious ones, I guess. I can’t do anything that would blow my cover. They wouldn’t let me bring a guitar, and Martin, my agent, made me promise not to sing or be on stage.”

Vere’s heart twisted. “That sucks.”

Dustin blinked. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t mean to be here long enough for it to matter. I’m a whiz at memorizing stuff. Scripts, poems, anything.”

“Only that? No sports?” Charlie asked.

“I’ve never been allowed to play contact sports. Don’t want to bruise up the contracted merchandise. I do yoga and weight machines. No free weights. Too dangerous.”

“Pisser. You’re a lost cause,” Charlie said.

Vere leaned back against the steps. “Lighten up, Charlie. All you can do is catch a brown ball, run fast and knock people down.”

Charlie shook his head. “Don’t get me started on your lack of skills.” To Dustin he added, “You’re going to have to be a drama dork.”

“The people in drama are not dorks! You jocks are the dorks. Besides if we’re driving him around, he might as well join something. He’ll have to wait for us after school either way. What do you say? Join up?”

Hunter shook his head. “I usually do school solo. My tutors check my work and test me. I’m not joining anything.”

“So you’re home schooled?” Vere asked.

“Studio schooled. Kind of like home school.”

“Have you ever been to a real school?” Charlie asked.

“Not since fourth grade. I don’t remember it much. When I was nine I had an ongoing cereal commercial—
Happy Pops
? It paid really well so my mom pulled me out and started the tutoring.”

“OMG! OMG! You’re the Happy Pops Kid?” Vere squealed. “That is so neat. I loved Happy Pops. I still get Happy Pops on my birthday! SO COOL!”

Dustin grimaced and shook his head, glancing at Charlie. “Is she trying to torture me on purpose?
GuardeRobe
sold six million albums last year in the US alone, and she only recognizes me two days later for her love of a cereal that might be toxic. Dude. I
so
feel your pain. Your sister is unbelievable.”