When Kennedy woke up, she was alone in a room with a lot of odd equipment, wearing a robe, and hungry enough to eat the particle-board table top at which she sat. Kristin’s motto being “no job too big,” the team took Kennedy back to One Lassiter Plaza, to Dr. As fast as it all went down, they weren’t fast enough to keep the heroin out Kennedy’s veins. With Tai’s help, Kristin and her team found the door of the squalid flat in short order, and went through it too fast for the occupants to do much other than gawk. Whitney Rand happened to be driving by and noticed Kennedy, out of place, being scooped into the back seat of the beat-up sedan, and called the license plate and descriptions in to Tai, Kristin, and an impromptu Tomorrow Girl clean-up squad. Within hours, Kennedy became easy prey for the street types in midtown, trolling the avenues for pretty young runaways, and girls in trouble–no shortage of them in Pacific City, sadly. And when she told them why, her father threw her out of their flat with only the clothes on her back, and the contents of her purse. Her parents were shocked when Kennedy came home one day in hysterical tears. And that turned out to be almost everything music, math, art, dance, physics, everything. Kennedy, supported and nurtured by the best of Pacific City society, excelled at everything that interested her. By the time she was five, he decided to leave the company and start his own firm, and by age 7, Kennedy was getting picked up by a driver at their Lemmon Place flat, and whisked away to the trendy private school her Dad could then afford to send her to. Her Dad’s software engineering job took the family from Seoul to Pacific City when Kennedy was four.
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