Hunted (5 page)

“Brynn,” Jack said. “Why don’t you help Morgan with her look like we talked about.”

“Love to,” Brynn said, practically leaping from the couch and rushing towards me. “Let’s go, Morgan.”

“Where are we going?”
 

“To make you look different. You know, like a disguise.”

Her enthusiasm alarmed me and I stood reluctantly. She grabbed my arm and nearly dragged me out of the room and down a hallway. We stopped next to a bathroom.
 

“Put that robe on over your clothes. You know, to protect them from the dye.”

“The dye?” I felt my eyes widen, but when I saw her pull a pair of scissors out of the medicine cabinet, I backed away. If she cut and dyed my hair, how would I explain that to Mom when I got back to my world in six weeks?
 

“Don’t be a baby, Morgan. If we don’t make you look different, the Enforcers will recognize you.”

I pictured Hansen and his promise to kill me and decided the risk of getting caught was worse than Mom’s reaction to a new hairstyle. I took the robe off the hook and snaked my arms through the sleeves, then snugged the belt around my waist.

“Sit on the lid of the toilet,” Brynn said as she dug around under the sink.

I did as I was told and closed my eyes, trying to pretend this wasn’t happening. When Brynn closed the cabinet under the sink, I opened my eyes, deciding to face my reality.

“I’m going to have my own salon some day,” Brynn said as she set a box of hair dye on the counter.

“Have you done this before?”

“You mean changed someones look?”

I nodded.

She grinned. “No. You’ll be the first.”

I held back a groan.

“Don’t be so dramatic. I’ve watched tons of videos on how to cut hair. I even practiced on a couple of the neighbor girls.” She grabbed a handful of my hair and began cutting, and large hanks fell to the floor. “Their mothers were only mad at me for a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?” My gaze was glued to the ever-growing pile of hair that puddled around my feet.

“Yeah. Until it grew back in.”

“How long did that take?” My voice squeaked a bit.

“Honestly, Morgan. It will look fine. That was, like, two years ago. I’m sure I’m much better now.”

I didn’t speak, too worried about what she was doing to my hair. Finally she stopped cutting.
 

“Promise you won’t look in the mirror yet,” she said.

I began standing, but stopped. “Why not?”

“Because I’m not done. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

This was a surprise I was certain to hate, but I agreed to avoid looking in the mirror.

“Now I need to color your hair, so hold still.”
 

She opened a box and took a moment to read the instructions, which worried me a bit.
Hadn’t she done this before?
Then she mixed some stuff together in a bowl.

“Okay. Here we go.” She smiled brightly, like this was great fun, but I was less enthused. She grabbed handfuls of hair and clipped them into groups, then she started painting my hair with the solution she’d made. After she’d painted my entire head she announced that I needed to sit there for a while to let it set, then she left.

Though tempted to jump up and look in the mirror, I stayed seated on the toilet lid and tried to pretend this was all normal and everything was fine. I closed my eyes and tried not to think too hard, and before I knew it, she was back.

“Now I need to rinse your hair, so bend your head over the sink.”

I moved to the sink and did as instructed, keeping my eyes squeezed shut the whole time.
 

“So, is Billy your boyfriend?” She massaged my scalp as she spoke.

I felt a moment of panic. Why was she asking this? Was she interested in him? The girls at the high school certainly had seemed to be. Was
I
interested in him? I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t like the idea of him paying attention to another girl. I could tell her yes, but what if she asked him? He would laugh at the idea and I would look like an idiot. What could I do? I had to tell her the truth. “Well, no.”

She giggled. “He’s cute.”

Jealousy stabbed at me and I tried to push it down. I would be gone in a few weeks anyway and there was no reason to believe Billy would actually come with me.

“Don’t you think he’s cute, Morgan?”

I didn’t answer, but she didn’t seem to expect me to. Evidently it was a rhetorical question.

“And so brave too, escaping from that F.A.T. center.”

I was about to point out that I had escaped too, but she shoved my head further into the sink. When I opened my eyes and saw black water cascading past me, fresh horror swept over me. The water eventually ran clear, then she turned off the faucet.

“I need to add some conditioner, so don’t move.” A short time later she announced, “Okay, done with that part.” She put a towel on my head and rubbed vigorously, then guided me back to the toilet. “’Kay, just need to trim up the uneven parts.”

I could only imagine that meant my whole head, but tried to endure.
 

After a few minutes she stepped back to admire her work. “That looks pretty good, if I do say so myself.” She looked at me sternly. “You need to wait a couple of days before you wash your hair, okay?”

I nodded. “Can I look in the mirror now?” Not that I really wanted to, but I knew I would have to eventually.

She smiled at me. “Not yet.”

“I thought you were done.”

“With your hair, yes. But now I need to do your make-up.”

“I don’t really like to wear a lot of make-up.”

She tried to hide a frown. “I can tell.” Then she smiled. “But don’t worry, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

I looked at the dark eye-liner that encircled both of her eyes, and the orange lipstick on her mouth, and sighed.

She opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a large make-up bag and set it on the counter. Carefully, she laid out each item, then turned to me. “Close your eyes.”

I felt pressure on each eyelid, then when she told me to open my eyes, I saw her coming at me with a sharp black pencil and I recoiled slightly.

“Hold still, Morgan. I don’t want to mess this up.”

I didn’t want her to mess it up either and did my best to be a statue.

A few minutes later she dabbed at the corner of each eye with her pinkie, then pronounced the job done. “You can look in the mirror now.”

Chapter Five

With trepidation, I stood and approached the mirror. My long brown hair had been chopped off in a pixie cut and dyed a dark black, and dramatic eye make-up made my eyes unrecognizable.

“What do you think?” Brynn asked, obviously expecting a positive response.

In any other circumstance I would have gone directly to an attorney to begin a lawsuit, but in this case it was a good thing that I looked nothing like myself. I touched my hair that was now nearly as short as a boy’s, though she’d cut it in such a way that it had a soft, feminine look, then leaned in close to examine the way she’d done my eyes. The more I stared, the less I hated it.

“So?” she pressed.

Never taking my eyes from the mirror, I said, “Yeah, this will work.”

“But do you
like
it?”

I met her gaze in the mirror. “It will take some getting used to, but you did a pretty good job.”

She blushed. “Well, the main thing is that the Enforcers won’t know it’s you. I wouldn’t want to be the one responsible for messing that up. After hearing Mitch’s story, I can only imagine how awful it would be to see someone you know dragged away.”

Her words sunk into my mind and I flashed back to less than two weeks before when I’d
been
the person dragged away. Yeah, I could testify to the awfulness of it. But then I imagined seeing someone I loved being treated the way I’d been and that actually did seem worse. I tore my gaze away from the mirror and looked at Brynn. “So you didn’t see your brother taken away?”

She shook her head. “No. My parents dropped him off at the F.A.T. center so it really wasn’t dramatic at all.”

I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right. “Dropped him off? Like, voluntarily?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Why would they do that?” To say I was shocked would be an understatement.

“He’d gone over his weight—which you know I think is a dumb rule—but when my parents were notified that they needed to bring him in, they did.”

I’d heard so many stories of people being forcibly hauled in to F.A.T. centers that I hadn’t even considered that some people went there on their own, like they really were just going to a camp.

“Why do you look so shocked?” Brynn asked. “You really don’t know anyone who’s checked themselves in to a F.A.T. center?”

Of course I didn’t—I’d only been in this world for a matter of weeks. But evidently at this point in my life it shouldn’t have been a surprise to hear about such things. Not wanting to get into my unusual lack of knowledge, I said, “Let’s see what everyone thinks of my new look.”

We walked out of the bathroom and into the family room, where everyone, including Billy, was gathered. I heard gasps as people looked at me and hoped it was from how well I was disguised and not how horrible I looked.

“Wow, Brynn,” Tracy said. “I’ve never seen such a transformation before. And I’ve seen a few good ones.”

I glanced at Brynn, who was beaming, then my gaze met Billy’s. Of all the people in the room, his opinion was the only one that mattered.

He nodded at me, a bemused smile on his face. “I wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant. Did I look really scary or really tough? Everyone else seemed to approve of my new look, so I stayed focused on that.

“Good job, Brynn,” Jack said. “Now it’s Billy’s turn.”

My gaze ricocheted between Brynn and Billy. There was no hiding her happiness, but whether it was because she would be able to transform another victim or because she would get Billy alone, I wasn’t sure, although I suspected it was the latter.

Billy, on the other hand, seemed more reluctant than I’d been to be taken to Brynn’s salon.

“Come on, Billy,” Brynn said, tugging on Billy’s arm. “I promise it will be painless.”

He finally stood, and as he walked past me he looked at me with wide eyes. I just smiled, but I doubted that would reassure him since the smile was on my newly created face, which just emphasized what might happen to him.

“We gave Billy the nickel tour while you were with Brynn,” Tracy said. “Now it’s your turn.”

I followed her as she went down the hallway where Brynn had taken Billy. We passed the closed bathroom door and I wondered what was happening in there. She showed me Jack’s room, then two additional bedrooms.

“You’ll stay in this room with Kelly. Billy will stay in that other room with Mitch and Nathan.”

I nodded, just happy to have a safe place to sleep.

Then we walked back through the family room and down another short hallway, which led to a large room near the front door.

“This is our more formal meeting space,” she said. “It’s a little bigger than the family room, so we can fit more people.”

“More people? Who else lives here?”

“The only people who live here are Jack, Mitch, Nathan, and Kelly.”

“Where do you live?”

“Oh, I still live in my house and have my life. But I’m definitely here a lot. Same with Brynn. She lives at home with her family, but helps out whenever we need her.”

“I thought you all lived here.”

“No. The only people who stay here with Jack are the ones who have no other place to go.”

I wanted to say
like me and Billy
but it sounded too pathetic and she already knew we had nowhere else to go. “So, who else comes over here? Who else knows about your group?”

She smiled. “There are a lot of people involved in the resistance. Not everyone thinks the government should have so much control over us.”

“Do you think it will ever change?”

“It has to.” Her voice showed her passion. “That’s the only thing keeping me going.”

Trying to change the way people thought and the iron-fisted control of the government seemed insurmountable. “How, though? How can you change things?”

“Hearts and minds.”

I thought about her story and how she said her husband had died of a heart attack while staying in a F.A.T. center. “What do you mean?”

“We have to help people see that what the government is doing is wrong. If we change the minds of enough people, we can change the rules.”

“Do you think it’s working? Are people changing their minds?”

She frowned, and a look of discouragement crossed her face. “It’s a slow process. People have become convinced that the government should track our weight and then punish those who don’t weigh the right amount.” She sighed. “It’s been that way for so many years now, it’s become ingrained in people to believe that’s how it should be.”

“I think they’re trying to find ways to control people even more.”

“What do you mean?”

I told her about the power bars they’d started giving us at Camp Willowmoss and how there were drugs in them that made them not only addictive, but also made people more compliant. Her eyes grew wide as I told her how I’d gone through withdrawals after having only power bars for two days.
 

“We need to tell Jack about this.” She took a step toward the hallway. “Wait here.”

As I waited, I looked around the living room. Tall bookshelves lined one wall and couches and chairs were placed around the room. As I moved toward the bookshelves, I wondered how many people were involved in the resistance. I examined the spines of the books on the shelves and saw several history books. I pulled one off of the shelf and flipped through the pages. Handwritten notes were scrawled across many of the pages. I turned to a random one and read
slippery slope.
I read the passage it referred to. It talked about government officials suggesting that fast food restaurants limit their serving sizes as that could help in the fight against obesity.

“Morgan,” a voice said behind me.

Startled, I closed the book and turned around. Jack stood next to Tracy.