Unmaking Hunter Kennedy Read Free

office.”
    “What? Why?”
    Jenna beamed, her green eyes glittering with mischief. “Maybe I’ll get pulled out of some lame quiz next month. Maybe for a couple of days! And, FYI, there are no grades this week, you brown nosing, teacher-pleasing-missile.”
    “I’d laugh at that comment if it weren’t so hot in this room. I need every drop of extra credit I can get. If only perfect forms could count for AP Biology.” Vere groaned and flexed her fingers before signing the last one in her stack using Jenna’s method. It was something about sports and after-school activities. A new head-injury safety plan for all students in sports, clubs or student council.
    She and Jenna did Drama Club. Not so they could be in the spotlight or anything insane like that.
    They did stage tech.
    Sets, costumes, lights, sound, special effects and props—all while wearing the ‘invisible’ black outfits that came with the job. Lighting was her favorite.
    Vere’s phone buzzed against the table.
    “Who dares text you besides me?” Jenna wiggled her brows. “I mean, who e-ffing dares text you?”
    “My mom.” Vere flashed the screen to Jenna so she could read: VERE—VERE ARE YOU THERE?
    Jenna laughed. “And you can’t eff-ing ground your mom for texting you at school?”
    Vere grimaced. “Jenna. I hate your new ‘geek-street’ persona. You sound and look—” Vere paused, glancing at Jenna’s outfit with an affectionate grin. “—like a Hello Kitty hipster, crossed with some trash-mouthed prairie-girl.”
    Jenna grinned. “I know. I’m ahhmazing cute, huh? And yet I still hang out with a girl who’s sporting her dad’s jeans cut down to shorts from nineteen-eighty seven. AGAIN. Matched with her big brother’s monstrous, grubby hoodie. AGAIN. Plus the same brown, twisty bun? A look you’ve held on to since eighth grade. At least my whole outfit can be found in a magazine.”
    “Please. You know you love my look. And, as someone who truly loves you, I claim the right to veto the fake-cursing thing.”
    Jenna grinned. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll e-ffing re-think my e-ffing potty mouth. But it’s so e-ffing fun to feel like a bad-girl.”
    “You’re not even close to bad if you can’t say the real word. E-ffing stop. It’s going to backfire and force us into an even lower social status.”
    “Is there one lower than ours?” Jenna grinned.
    Vere’s phone buzzed again. She pulled it under the table so she and Jenna could read the next text together: VERE? ARE YOU GETTING THESE? ARE YOU THERE?
    Vere typed into her phone: Mom. Jeez. What’s up?
    The phone buzzed a third time just as she hit send.
    YOU AND CHARLIE COME STRAIGHT HOME. PROJECT TO DISCUSS. SOMEONE TO MEET. ALL WEEKEND. UP AT THE LAKE. MAKE NO PLANS. NONE. AND NO. TELL JENNA, SHE MAY NOT COME ALONG. SORRY HONEY. DON’T EVEN TRY. NO.
    Jenna frowned. “Your mom’s psycho with the all-caps. Does she not know she’s constantly text-yelling? What does she mean project ? And why would she not want me to come? It's a THREE day weekend. That hurts where Band-Aids can’t touch.” Her frown turned into a pout as she added, “Your mom always wants me to come to the lake.” Jenna leaned her chin on a fist. “The last time she had ‘someone for you to meet’ you guys got that Ukrainian exchange dude for spring break. Remember?”
    “How could anyone forget. Thank God that was only for two weeks.”
    Their gazes met, and they both grinned and said, “Lexi. Not SEXY. ”
    They cracked up all over again.
    “Her text sounds doomish,” Jenna added.
    Vere tapped her pen on the desk. “UGH. I smell me and Charlie stuck at some church thing passing out cookies. Remember when she made us wear white gloves and stand around guarding hanging blankets for a whole weekend because of that quilting competition?” Vere shuddered.
    Jenna gathered her papers into one crumpled pile but then dropped them with a short gasp. “Alert. Alert. The Wish . Entering our