Unmaking Hunter Kennedy Read Free Page B

birthday parties, hung at the neighborhood pool and walked to school together on the first day—all that.
    All together.
    Every. Single. Year.
    But all normal hanging out, normal conversations between Vere and Curtis had completely ended in middle school.
    Died. Double died. In front of everyone.
    This was thanks to two things: 1. Seventh grade and, 2. ‘The incident’.
    Seventh grade was when Vere had decided that she had a real live crush on Curtis Wishford. In her classic style, she’d taken her crush to her usual high level of dedicated excitement and commitment. Her ‘hard work always pays off’ thing was out of control back then.
    Worse, she’d upgraded her crush to include visions of grandeur. (A term she’d also learned off the online psychology websites.) People who did that were usually also flagged as crazy.
    But everyone is crazy in seventh grade.
    At the ancient age of twelve, Vere decided she was in love with Curtis. Major, huge, obsessive, seventh-grade mega-love .
    She’d written his name on her binders, had countless journals filled with pages and pages of things like: Gwenivere Juliet Wishford , or Vere Juliet Wishford , or Mrs. Vere Wishford .
    She’d made up the names of their kids (Claire and Mara).Planned their entire future lives, including their matching careers as world famous, cat and dog rescuing veterinarians.
    Ugh. Middle school madness.
    Vere felt the back of her neck heat up all over again, remembering how insane she’d been those years.
    The evidence of those notebooks had been burned in the family fireplace on a sleep-over. A night spent bawling, because of thing number two. The famous ‘incident’.
    Jenna still called it: ‘The Incident That Can Not be Named’.
    As in, Vere’s personal Voldemort.
    She and Charlie called it one, sad, out of control moment that no one would let her forget. If she had advice to pass on to other middle school girls heading for that ‘first love’, she’d say straight up: don’t knock out the boy you love in front of everyone —and their parents.
    Ever since that day, her shyness around Curtis had grown steadily worse. The guy was always around too. Almost as inescapable as the snickers and snide comments that had followed Vere year after year.
    Because of Charlie, Curtis was always in her very own house.
    She had become so epic with her public blush-and-stutter tricks, no other boys seemed to look twice at her.
    Maybe it was because she simply steered clear of them.
    Which is just fine. Other boys don’t interest me.
    I’m still in love with Curtis Wishford, so there! And it’s going well. Curtis and I...oh yeah...very well...
    Vere put her head on her arms, trying to see if she could catch a glimpse of his feet under the tables. She had become a master at avoiding Curtis while admiring him from afar.
    If he was over hanging with Charlie, Vere could be found hiding in her room. Feeling queasy.
    Queasy, but desperately gluing her ear to the door while listening for the sounds of Curtis’s voice to float up from the basement.
    Vere had also perfected peeking through curtain cracks so she could watch Curtis stare at his car engine, or toss the football around the yard with Charlie—if they were hanging outside.
    If they were in the kitchen or doing homework at the dining room table, she could listen to his voice perfectly by sitting on the stair landing, pretending to read on the window seat.
    Curtis had the most beautiful baritone. Plus a loud, travelling laugh that separated him from all of Charlie’s other friends.
    Curtis couldn’t be beat.
    Not in her house vents, anyhow. And not in her heart. Ever.
    She had no problem admitting her situation made her pathetic. And yes, fine . She’d reached some serious low points of possible stalking where Curtis was concerned.
    But is it really stalking if the guy comes over to my house?
    Hangs out in my front yard? Lounges around in my basement, eats dinner with my family, at my table?
    I think