Key Change: A Slow Burn Rockstar Romance (Common Threads Book 3)

by Heidi Hutchinson

  She shuffled to her preferred seat in her study hall section and waved at the teacher who was supposed to supervise them. Usually he read.

  He nodded and marked her down on the attendance sheet.

  There were signs all over stating how it was “study” hall, not “talking” hall. But none of the teachers really enforced that unless someone got unusually rowdy.

  They didn’t have assigned seats and so Piper usually went high. She was the youngest one in the class because of her late admission. So she didn’t have any peers with whom to study or converse.

  She set her backpack in the chair next to her and took out her journal.

  No, the Carlton Baxter Christian Academy wasn’t what she’d call ideal. But she was getting used to it. She wondered if kids of famous people had to keep their lineage a secret too, or if it was just her.

  Not that she wanted people to know.

  Actually, if Hannah had stayed in the public eye, Piper might have pushed harder to be homeschooled.

  The short time she’d spent in LA after the accident had been like jumping into a spinning fan with razor fins.

  A noise behind and to her right caused her to glance over her shoulder.

  In the top row of the theater seats, half hidden in darkness, was a group of teenage boys. Four of them. She recognized them from her study hall, but they usually weren’t in the back like they were now.

  She darted a nervous look to the teacher. He was absorbed in his book. She looked back to the boys.

  They were giggling and whispering and grunting.

  Squinting, she made out the shape of a long folding table that had been propped against the wall.

  The boys had maneuvered it to the top of the (very steep) auditorium stairs, flat side down.

  One of the boys saw her watching and he held his finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. Piper blinked at him.

  Because what in the world were they thinking?

  The auditorium was an enormous room, with theater-style seats from top to bottom. It sat a thousand people. The stairs were narrow, steep, and carpeted.

  If they let that table fly down the stairs, they could seriously injure someone.

  No. Wait.

  Piper inhaled sharply, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.

  The boys filed onto the table, cradled back to front with each other. The legs of the table created flimsy bookends. They rocked back and forth.

  The table paused, tilting just slightly to the front, holding them in suspended animation, their faces frozen in excited expectation.

  And with a sudden whoosh that startled Piper, the table flew down the stairs—the boys riding it bobsled style all the way to the bottom.

  CRASH!

  Piper slowly stood, staring at the wreckage at the bottom of the stairs.

  The boys’ bodies were dispersed around the table like bowling pins. The table was in multiple pieces, the front legs embedded in the front of the stage.

  Mr. Davidson jogged down the stairs just as the boys started moving about.

  “Oh, they’re not dead,” Piper said on an exhale.

  For a solid minute there, she had been terrified she’d just witnessed a prank gone tragically wrong and she was not okay.

  Shakely, she sat back down.

  Mr. Davidson scolded the boys and escorted them out of the auditorium.

  “Oof, I bet they have to see Shatface now. I think I’d prefer death by stage collision than having to go to her office.”

  Piper jumped. Sitting to her left was a familiar face.

  He must’ve joined her during the commotion.

  She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to remember his name, if she had ever known it.

  “Shawn,” he introduced, tilting his head at her unspoken question. “You’re Piper, right?”

  She narrowed her eyes further.

  “My brother is Johnny.”

  Oh, right.

  “You’re the stalker.” Piper put it all together.

  He flattened his expression. “Fan.”

  “That’s what all stalkers say,” she muttered, shaking her jittery hands at her sides.

  Shawn eyed her movement and licked his bottom lip. “You okay? You look a little pale.”

  “Yeah.” Piper nodded. “I’m fine…ish.”

  “Did they really freak you out that bad?” he asked, kicking his long legs up onto the seat in front of him and bouncing a Superball on the floor between his legs.

  “I startle easy.” Her therapist called it a “trauma response.” Hannah called it anxiety. Piper called it annoying.

  “Gotchya,” Shawn replied, but didn’t ask for further explanation.

  “Why are you over here?” she asked, just now putting together that he was not in her study hall class normally.

  He rubbed a hand along his chin and grimaced toward the doors. “Avoiding responsibility.”

  Piper snorted at his unexpected answer.

  He didn’t say anything and resumed bouncing the Superball on the floor-seatback area. She decided to put away her journal.

  “So, if Johnny is your brother, then that would make Ana your cousin?” she guessed.

  “Yeah, you know Ana?” he asked with a smile.

  “We’re on the basketball team together.”

  “Right.” He nodded like things were clicking. “That’s why Hannah’s here on Saturdays. Makes sense.”

  She tucked her hands under her thighs, not knowing what to talk about now. Shawn was an upperclassman. Probably a senior. And he was hiding out by a seventh grader? Yeah, that had nothing to do with who her sister was.

  “I can’t tell you anything,” Piper finally blurted. “If you’re wanting to know things about her, I can’t say.” She hurriedly shook her head. “I don’t know anything anyway.”

  Shawn stopped tossing the Superball and glanced her direction. He dropped his feet to the floor and faced her more directly.

  “You know she came to my house, right?” he asked.

  She swallowed.

  “She’s terrifying,” he finished seriously.

  Piper chuckled despite herself.

  “I can see why you’d think that’s why I’m over here, but nah.” He shook his head, lips downturned. “I have no intention of ever getting on her bad side again.”

  Piper smiled softly, her gaze drifting away. “She’s not so scary.”

  Shawn snorted in disbelief.

  “Why are you here, then?” she asked curiously.

  He shrugged. “It’s an open hour for me, and Shatface gets on my case.” He growled low in his throat. “That woman hates me, I swear.” He shook it off. “I recognized you. Thought I’d sit by you. Do you want me to go?” he offered.

  “No,” she answered quickly, surprising herself. “You can stay, I guess.”

  He grinned and resumed bouncing the Superball.

  It was nice to have someone who acknowledged her existence as a human being. She understood the need for privacy for her and Hannah, she did. But it was incredibly isolating.

  Isolating in a completely different way than the first ten years of her life had been.

  Life Before had consisted of being alone at home. And when she wasn’t alone at home, she wished she was. But she always looked forward to school because she could see her friends. That had been her life. Not the mockery of a life she lived with the woman who claimed to have birthed her.

  If she hadn’t looked exactly like the woman, Piper wouldn’t have believed it.

  Weren’t moms supposed to love and care for their children just automatically?

  Maybe that was naïve.

  But then Hannah had just done it. Without being a mom ever.

  So maybe maternal instincts weren’t instincts for humans. Maybe they were choices.

  If that was the case, she was really happy that Hannah was such a hard-ass who made deliberate choices.

  Chapter Twelve

  Unusual You

  HANNAH


  It was the final day of recording, and for the most part, things were better than usual. Everyone was on time and in a good mood.

  Even Johnny, surprisingly.

  Or maybe not so much.

  Since that day when Hannah’s memory had been jogged and she’d had a good cry about it, he’d been much more relaxed. Or perhaps that was just his response to her being a little more sensitive to him and what she’d caused.

  She hated it.

  Knowing what happened.

  Not knowing was so much easier.

  Knowing was better but more painful.

  “Is this my hat?” Sunshine asked, holding her first (and hopefully her worst) attempt at making a hat.

  “That’s a hat?” Johnny asked around a robust laugh.

  “It is a hat,” she confirmed proudly. “The Flash Cache hat.” She named it after the album they’d made that week.

  Sunshine put it on and some of the loose strings of yarn dangled down into his eyes. “Do I look like a thug?” he asked with a chin lift.

  “If thugs wore mangled stray cat regurgitation,” Johnny replied thoughtfully.

  “Har har.” Hannah grimaced because she knew they were right. The hat was hideous. It was frustrating because she didn’t usually have this kind of trouble with most things. Usually her worst handling was reserved for her human relationships. Maybe that was why. Maybe because the knitting had become a way for her to process and deal with uncomfortable emotions, it came out like that.

  Or maybe knitting was really hard and she needed to stop overanalyzing it.

  “Will you make me a hat?”

  Johnny’s question caught her off guard.

  Today was the last day of recording. After today, they probably wouldn’t be seeing each other again.

  Except there was a teasing glint in his eye that made her want to see him again.

  “You want one of those things?” she asked.

  “I do,” he replied with a lopsided smile.

  Sunshine took out his phone and took a selfie, getting Johnny and most of the control room in the screen. Hannah ducked her head and slipped out the door.

  “Team Flash Cache,” he said, throwing up the peace sign.

  She couldn’t risk being in the background.

  “Hannah Lee,” Johnny’s voice called down the hall. “Will you bring me a water, please?”

  “Yeah,” she called over her shoulder.

  Did he see her duck out of frame and was he just giving her a valid excuse to be gone? Because that would be really cool if it were true.

  She got a water for each of them and came back into the room. When she handed one to Sunshine, he gave her a very familiar up and down.

  It wasn’t one she got too often anymore and she was a little taken off guard.

  Was he checking her out?

  What?

  But she was like ten years older than him.

  Though to be fair, she had felt safe that morning and had worn clothes she liked. Black skinny jeans and an off the shoulder, sheer white sweater with a black lace bralette underneath. Black high-heeled ankle boots and a matching leather jacket. Which was just her favorite jacket of all time. It still sometimes smelled like cigarette smoke from years gone by. Something about the aged smell gave her good memories. Like getting to have a stiff drink without actually drinking.

  Maybe that wasn’t right.

  Maybe it was.

  Maybe she should have just left it in a donation bin long ago.

  When was her next therapy appointment again?

  “Do you have a man, Hannah Lee?” Sunshine asked, casually stepping into her space.

  “Oh, Sunshine,” she replied. “No human man could handle all that I bring to the table.”

  Johnny barked a laugh and Sunshine raised his eyebrows.

  “So I take it my flirting is wasted?”

  “You were flirting?” she questioned with a head tilt. “Are you sure?”

  Sunshine laughed then too, and Johnny’s had grown into a robust belly laugh.

  “So this wasn’t a love beanie?” Sunshine asked, rolling with her insult easily.

  “Does it look like it was made with love?” she countered.

  “It looks like it was made with hook hands,” he quipped.

  “I think if that had been the case, it would have turned out better.”

  “All right, all right, all right,” Johnny cut them off, waving both hands. “Cut it out. We’re not done, and if you keep this up, I’m not going to be able to finish.”

  “That’s what she said,” Sunshine mumbled quickly.

  “I thought keeping it up was the best way to finish.” Hannah tilted her head and smiled sweetly.

  Johnny closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

  Hannah bit her bottom lip and gave Sunshine the high-five he offered.

  It had taken five days to get to this level of comfort in the studio with Johnny. But it had been worth it.

  Too bad this was the end.

  Unless she finally asked him if he’d record her Double Blind Study backing vocals.

  She’d been considering asking Nikki to do it.

  But that would tip Nikki off that maybe she and Johnny hadn’t gotten along as well as they’d put on for everyone else.

  She knew she needed to ask Johnny.

  And she would.

  Eventually.

  SHAWN

  “Does that make sense to you?”

  Edgar nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration as he finished scribbling out his notes.

  Shawn noticed his notes were in English this time.

  He glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly lunch time. Perfect.

  “You’re picking this up really fast,” Shawn encouraged, closing his textbook and sliding it into his bag. Edgar followed suit. “You should be able to change your grade easily before the quarter ends.”

  “Gracias, Shawn,” Edgar mumbled.

  “De nada.”

  They made their way to the door of the science lab and Shawn held his hand up for them to pause.

  Technically, they weren’t supposed to be in there. But Mr. Mitchell had left the door unlocked for Shawn so he could work with Edgar in private. They used to study together in the library, but Shatford had shut that down almost immediately.

  The period ended and the bell rang.

  They waited in the darkened room behind the closed door for the silence of the hallway to give way to students pouring out of classes and filling the hall.

  Shawn cracked the door open and followed Edgar into the steady sea of teenagers.

  He collided with a small body, nearly knocking them down.

  “Oof!” Piper exclaimed, ricocheting off two upperclassmen who didn’t even notice. On her way back in Shawn’s direction, he grabbed her elbow and steadied her.

  “You straight?” he asked, keeping their momentum going with the crowd.

  “Sure,” she replied, not sounding sure at all.

  Edgar leaned around Shawn and waved at Piper. He tipped his head back to grin at Shawn. “She’s a Marty.”

  Shawn nodded in understanding.

  He checked his watch like it mattered and followed the clot that deviated to the cafeteria. Might as well check in with the Martys.

  Carlton Baxter was a weird school. It was too small for the amount of students they had, but the board couldn’t agree on whether or not to expand. So lunch had to be divided into three separate periods—A, B, and C. Seniors ate first in Lunch A, grades six through eight had Lunch B, grades nine through eleven ate last. But they also had open campus, so a lot of the students just left for lunch, which helped prevent overcrowding in the cafeteria.

  Since Shawn’s friends usually went out and also had Lunch A, and he’d started using his lunch to tutor Edgar, he normally grabbed a snack from the à la carte line.

  He swerved into the line, his gaze sweeping through the younger kids as they found their spots.

  The Martys sat at the furthest t
able from any of the popular kids. He smiled when he spotted them.

  Piper was already there, unpacking her paper bag lunch and looking like she still felt out of place.

  Which was the entire reason for the existence of the Martys.

  Shawn bought a bottle of lemonade and a soft pretzel and headed over.

  He sat down across from Piper and Ana and right beside Edgar.

  “What are you doing here?” Ana asked with suspicion.

  “Eating lunch,” he answered, gesturing at his soft pretzel.

  “You know you’re too cool to sit with us anymore,” Ana pointed out.

  “I’ll never outgrow the Martys,” he reassured, and enjoyed the snickers around him.

  “He’s my cousin,” Ana explained to Piper.

  “We’ve met,” Piper said. Her smile was so hesitant that it made Shawn hurt a little.

  “Which Marty are you?” he asked.

  Piper lifted a shoulder, her expression just as lost as he expected.

  He grimaced at Ana. “You didn’t explain the Martys to her?”

  Edgar cleared his throat and waved his hand to take over.

  “She’s Marty Seven.”

  “Yeah, that doesn’t help,” Piper stately flatly.

  Shawn barked a laugh.

  “Okay, okay.” Ana waved her hands at everyone to calm down even though no one was being loud. She swiveled to face Piper.

  “We are the Martys. It’s something that started with Shawn and his friend Javier. It’s kind of a long story, but the general idea is simple. Everyone who sits at this table doesn’t fit in anywhere else. Mostly because they’re ESL kids. One of the movies that we’ve all seen to help us with our English is Back to the Future. So we just call everyone who sits here Marty.”

  “I’m not an ESL kid,” Piper said slowly.

  “But you were sitting all alone,” Edgar pointed out.

  Piper blushed. “I don’t know anyone.”

  “Now you have the Martys.” Ana held her hands out like she was offering a gift. Satisfied with her brief explanation, she went back to her lunch.

  Piper considered this information, and a small smile crept onto her face as she ate quietly.

  Lunch was almost over when Edgar bumped him with his shoulder.

  Shawn’s head shot up to scan the room and he locked eyes with Shatford just as she found him.