Havoc:Mayhem Series #4(15)

"And they're just going to keep coming and coming and coming," Adam says.

"We have hundreds of extras signed up for this," Shawn agrees. "They're  going to keep coming out of the trees until this entire meadow"-he  gestures at the huge expanse of open land-"is completely filled with  kids dancing to the song."

And as if that wasn't enough, as if I wasn't over here going into some  legit shock at the sheer weight of their stardom, Mike adds, "We're  getting drones."

"Drones?" I ask, and Adam laughs outright.

"Oh man, this is going to be so badass."

"Yeah," Shawn says, and even he starts to lose his professional  composure, a boyish smile stretching onto his face. "They're going to  get aerial shots." He gives his whole smile to Kit, who gives one right  back to him.

It's no wonder they're all bubbling with excitement-between the video  and the international tour Mike mentioned, Mosh Records is investing a  ton of time and money in them. I smile as I imagine what it must feel  like for Mike and the rest of the guys to have so many huge dreams  coming true all at once.

"Do you know what else you should do?" Danica suddenly chimes in, and  Shawn's smile disappears. Adam's smile disappears. Kit's smile turns  into something murderous. "You should have like one star ghost in the  video. I mean, the song is about her, right?"

"Who says the song is about a girl?" Kit challenges as her heavy combat  boots bang onto the steel dock, but Danica just smiles as we walk.

"Well, isn't it?" Kit's jaw ticks, and Danica continues. "And she'd be  super hot. I mean, think about it. What hit music video doesn't have a  hot girl? You wouldn't even have to pay anyone."

Shawn stops walking when he gets to the end of the platform in the  middle of the pond, turning around with his eyes narrowed. "And why is  that?"

Danica's alligator smile widens, her long brown hair snaking behind her in the breeze. "Because I'd do it for free."

She's dead serious. Utterly serious. Which, I'm guessing, is why Kit  completely loses it. She starts laughing, quietly at first-normally,  like a normal person. But when personal offense writes itself all over  Danica's face, she starts laughing harder, and harder, and harder. Dee  joins in, and Joel tries not to, but fails. Shawn tries to suppress a  smile that won't stay hidden, and eventually, Kit laughs so hard that  she descends into a full-on coughing fit.

Sneezes and coughs from nearly the entire band made up the soundtrack of  our hike through the woods, but Kit coughed more than anyone else,  wiping her nose with her sleeve and insisting that she was fine every  time Shawn lectured that she should have stayed home. Now, those coughs  get the better of her, and she doesn't stop until she hacks something up  and spits it into the water at Danica's side.

"Gross," Danica scolds, which only makes Kit laugh again. "What is your  problem?" she snaps, and I wait for her to murder Kit, or Kit to murder  her, or someone to murder someone and turn this place into a real-life  crime scene, when Mike wraps his arm around Danica's shoulder.

"Kit's just delirious," he says, giving Kit a pointed look. He turns to  stand in front of Danica, his big hands on her shoulders. "And they've  put a lot of thought into this. We all have."

"I'm just trying to help." Danica pouts, and Mike studies her for a moment before replying.

"I know. I appreciate that."

"My idea wasn't bad," Danica insists, looking past Mike to implore  Shawn. "I could take this music video to the next level. Having a sexy  girl in it would make-"                       
       
           



       

"You realize Kit is sexy as hell, right?" Dee snaps, and I can't tell if  Kit's cheeks are red because she's embarrassed or red because she's  sick, but I don't remember her being that flushed a minute ago. "Look at  her. She's a fucking bombshell. This video will already have a hot girl  in it."

"Well, yeah," Danica reluctantly concedes, "but-"

"Are you going to shoot the video at night?" I interrupt, and everyone's  eyes swing to me. I don't even know why I open my mouth, except that  something about sharing the same bloodline as Danica forces me to  protect her from putting her foot further into her mouth. "To make it  more ghostly?"

Shawn stares at me while I use my nonexistent powers of telepathy to beg  him to go along with my subject change, and finally, he says, "Yeah."  He scratches his fingers over the stubble on his jaw. "But the film crew  is going to bring up all sorts of high-tech lighting to help light the  dock so we'll be visible."

"It sounds like it's going to be really amazing," I offer, and an easy  smile finally returns to Shawn's face, lighting his forest-green eyes.

"Thanks, Hailey."

"Whose idea was it?"

The guys and Kit start telling me who came up with which ideas, and I  listen. I smile back at Shawn, my attention skipping between him, Adam,  Joel, Kit, Mike, and even Rowan and Dee-until it accidentally lands on  Danica.

She should be happy I changed the subject. The guys weren't going for  her idea, and I was just trying to keep her from looking fame hungry. Or  from offending anyone. Or from . . . I don't know . . . causing Kit or  Dee to fly across the dock and strangle her with their bare hands.

But she isn't happy. Not when she locks eyes with me. Her tight lips and her hard gaze make me an unspoken promise.

She is going to kill me.





Chapter 11




When Danica decides later that afternoon, after the guys have fully  scouted the woods surrounding the meadow, that she needs to pee and that  she needs me to go with her-which requires a private trek into the  trees, just the two of us-I'm fully certain I'm never leaving this  forest alive. I know she's still stewing about the way I derailed her "I  should be the star of your music video!" campaign, and I also know that  the only punishment for such an offense is certain death.

But instead of clubbing me with a fallen tree branch or pushing me off a  conveniently located cliff, Danica simply tramps her designer boots  through the tall field grass alongside me and complains, "I hate having  to hang out with his friends all the time. I hated it in high school,  and I hate it even more now."

"Why?" I ask, and she gives me a poignant side-eye.

"They hate me."

"They don't ha-" I start, but Danica rolls her eyes.

"Don't lie, Hailey. You're terrible at it. You always have been."

She's right, of course. Whenever we got into trouble when we were  younger, I'd always have to let Danica do the talking, because if I  attempted to spin the truth, our parents would be able to tell in two  seconds flat. I'd end up giggling, or worse-crumbling under the pressure  and spilling every tiny detail, even ones they didn't ask for. Once,  when Danica and I got caught driving my dad's tractor, I ended up  selling us both down the river and confessing that we had done the same  thing a week earlier but never got caught. We were both grounded for  three lonely, boring, miserable weeks.

"Okay," I admit as we finally reach the tree line and I muscle a thick bush out of my cousin's way, "they hate you."

"I'm aware," she mutters, walking through the passage I make. "They don't hate you though."

In the shade of bloodred leaves that stubbornly refuse to fall, Danica  treats the wilderness like she does everything else in her life: she  holds her head high and tramples it beneath her feet. She somehow  marches easily over branches and bramble and grass that seem to come to  life just to coil around our legs, while I hop and skip and trip behind  her, cursing under my breath like a pint-sized sailor the entire way.                       
       
           



       

"Did you think my idea was stupid?" Danica asks just as I get ensnared  in a pricker bush. She pauses to look over her shoulder while I  carefully attempt to dislodge a thorn from the baggy sleeve of my orange  zip-up hoodie, and I stop fighting with the bush to look up at her. She  must be able to tell that I'm deciding whether or not to try lying  again, because she immediately scolds, "And don't you dare lie."

I cast my eyes back to the thorns stuck in my hoodie, removing them one  by one with surgical precision. "No, but I think that the way you  suggested it was."

"How?"

I don't need to look at her again to know that her eyes have narrowed  into her signature mascara-lined slits. But she told me not to lie to  her, so I'm going to follow her orders for once. "You didn't think of  them. You didn't think of all the time they put into their idea before  you started telling them everything you thought was wrong with it. And  you didn't wait to hear what they thought of your idea before you  insisted on changing their whole video and starring in it. You made it  all about you."