Megan Meade's Guide to the McGowan Boys (6 page)

But oh God. What was she going to say to him alone in the car for the whole ride home? Sure, he had driven her that morning, but then Finn had been in the front seat with him and the two of them had kept each other occupied. What was she going to do? How was she going to survive this without making a complete idiot of herself?

“Hey, babe!” Evan called out.

Huh?

Hailey jogged past Megan and Aimee, nearly knocking her sister over as she barreled down the pathway and directly into Evan's arms. He lifted her off the ground and mauled her with a long, almost pornographic kiss. Megan couldn't tear her eyes away.

He has a girlfriend,
Megan thought, her good mood instantly obliterated.
Of course he has a girlfriend. Just look at the guy.

But why did it have to be
her
?

“My sister the PDA slut,” Aimee said under her breath.

“Get a room!” called one of Hailey's friends from the door behind Megan, earning a round of laughter from the rest of the team.

Hailey detached herself from Evan's face and shot them all a self-satisfied smirk. She took Evan's hand and pulled him away from the car so she could get in. Evan opened the door for her and the moment Hailey's butt hit the seat, she flipped down the visor to check her makeup in the mirror.

“Hey, Megan. You coming?” Evan called out.

Hailey's head snapped up and she glowered out the window.

“Uh . . . yeah,” Megan replied, forcing her feet to move. “See
you tomorrow,” she said to Aimee. She looked at the ground and wrapped her wet hair up into a makeshift bun as she headed for the car. Evan opened the door for her, but she couldn't even look at him as she dropped into the backseat. How could he like Hailey Farmer? He was supposed to be perfect.

“So, how was your first day?” Evan asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“It was all right,” Megan replied.

“Same old same old,” Hailey said at the same time.

Hailey shot Megan a look in the rearview mirror and Evan laughed. “Actually, Hails, I was talking to Megan,” he said, reaching out and putting his hand over Hailey's. “We all know how
your
first day went.”

He and Hailey exchanged a knowing look and laughed.

“Well, she made the soccer team,” Hailey said.

“Cool, Megan. Congrats,” Evan said.

“Thanks,” Megan said.

“So, where did Coach put you, anyway?” Hailey added. “We know you're not playing center.”

Megan's skin burned and she stared out the window.

“I'm playing left,” she said.

She saw Hailey's sly smile in the rearview mirror. “Oh, well, left is very important,” Hailey said. “You'll be like my wingman.”

Megan rolled her eyes and stewed. It was one thing to be comeback-free around a girl like Hailey, but having it happen in front of Evan was ten times worse. Why couldn't she just stick up for herself?

“Don't mind Hailey,” Evan said. “Soccer is her life.”

Hailey shot Evan an irritated look that he didn't notice. “We're pretty fast up front,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “I hope you can keep up.”

“Come on, Hails. Leonard would never have taken her if she wasn't good,” Evan said.

Megan could have kissed him. If there weren't a million obstacles, both physical and psychological, in her way, of course.

“I'm just saying,” Hailey said, raising her hands. “I just want her to be prepared, that's all.”

“Don't worry about me,” Megan said. “My team was state champion last year.”

There you go! Nice one!
she thought, smiling triumphantly.

“Really?” Evan asked, looking over his shoulder. “That's awesome, Kicks.”

Megan's smile widened.

“Kicks? What's Kicks?” Hailey asked.

“It's Megan's nickname,” Evan said. “Actually, her nickname's Kicker, but I shortened it. I think Kicks is cooler, don't you?” he asked, glancing at Megan in the mirror.

“Definitely,” Megan said.

Hailey sat back hard and stared out the window, her jaw set. “That's so nice that you two already have your own nicknames.”

“Do I sense a little sarcasm, Hails?” Evan asked playfully. He stopped at a red light, picked up her hand, and kissed it.

Hailey rolled her eyes but smiled. “No,” she said. “Not at all. So, how was lacrosse practice? Are you finally going to make All-State this year?”

“You know I don't care about that,” Evan said, still holding
Hailey's hand as he turned the wheel with his left. “Lacrosse is for fun. As long as I make first-team hockey—”

“I know! I know! The schools will be coming after
you
!” Hailey replied.

As Evan and Hailey chatted on, Megan found herself suffering from major third-wheel discomfort. She sat back in her seat and gazed out the window, wondering how far Hailey's house was from the school. As much as she didn't want to be left alone in the car to make conversation with Evan, listening to the happy lovers' chatter was much, much worse.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Sublect: The Immersion Program

Megan Meade's Guide to the McGowan Boys

Entry Two

Observation #1:
When there's food in their sights, boys notice little else.

It's like lion-and-gazelle time on Animal Planet. Heidi Klum could walk in and no one would notice. Okay, maybe they would. No way to test that theory. But still, it's like ultimate concentration.

Observation #2:
They're easily distracted.

Evan was supposed to show me around school, but he saw some friends and got sidetracked. I chose not to take the slight personally.

Observation #3:
They know how to pose.

Evan. His car. Some perfectly placed sunbeams. A casual, unaffected lean. **sigh**

Observation #4:
They have bizarro taste in women.

“So, did you have fun?” Regina asked that night as she opened the front door.

“Yeah, thanks again,” Megan said. “But you really didn't have to get me all this stuff.” Clutched in her hands were four shopping bags full of clothes and makeup Regina had insisted on bringing home for her.

“I didn't have to—I wanted to,” Regina said. “Do you know what a pleasure it is to spend time in the women's section at the Gap?”

Megan laughed. “Well, thanks again.”

“Anytime,” Regina said. “I'm going to make some tea. Do you want some?”

“No thanks. I think I'll just go put all this away.”

“Well, good night, hon,” Regina said with a smile.

“'Night.”

Megan headed down the hallway for the stairs but paused when she heard voices coming from the basement. Down below, Doug called out the play-by-play for what, from the sound of it, was a digital football showdown.

“And Ian's Patriots take the ball on their own thirty-yard line,” Doug intoned, lowering his voice to a near-perfect impression of Al Michaels. “Can Ian, the upstart sixth grader, who until recently was still sucking his fruit punch from a sippy cup, beat last year's champion and complete spazmo—all filler, no killer Miller?”

Megan smirked. Doug was actually kind of funny. Who knew?

“And Brady drops back to pass. . . . He's lookin'. . . . He's lookin'. . . .”

Another cheer and Megan heard a couple of high fives. “I don't believe it!” Doug shouted. “Ian's got a first down on the fifty-yard line with a bee-yoo-tee-ful pass to the wide out. He's as cool as the other side a' the pillow. No one saw that comin', especially not Miller's lame-ass defense. If you can even call it that. Ow!”

Apparently Miller had punched Doug. Well deserved. Megan smiled. Part of her wanted to go downstairs and get in on the action, but she didn't want to intrude. Feeling tired and suddenly lonely, Megan started upstairs, the sounds of raucous laughter rising up behind her.

 *  *  *

“Regina bought you makeup?” Megan's mother asked over the phone.

“I know, I know. I told her not to, but she insisted,” Megan replied, glancing at the half-dozen compacts and tubes on her desk that she was never going to use. Megan just did not consider herself to be a makeup kind of girl. The one time she had
let Tracy give her a “light makeover,” she had been horrified by the hooker in the mirror and immediately raced for the sink.

“Just don't wear too much of that stuff on your face,” her mother said. “You're too pretty for that.”

“Thanks,” Megan said with a smile. She was proud of her green eyes and her thick, strawberry blond hair, but with her small snub nose, her freckles, and her lack of cheekbones, she had never actually felt “too pretty” for anything.

“Well, I'm sure it's nice for Regina, having another woman around,” her mother said. “But I told her she didn't need to buy you anything.”

Megan's eyes fell on the Gap and Abercrombie bags on her floor and she cringed. “We didn't buy that much. And I think she really had fun. I mean,
we
had fun,” she added. It had been a bit of a marathon spree for Megan—two full hours at the mall playing model—but the Cinnabon had made it all worthwhile.

“Well, good. I'm glad, then,” her mother said.

Megan smiled. Talking to her mother wasn't as painful as she had expected it would be. There was a tightness in her chest when she first heard her mom's voice, but she wasn't aching to crawl through the phone line or anything. She took this as a good sign. Maybe she was already getting used to being on her own.

Down the hall a door slammed and Megan flinched. Caleb and Ian were shouting at each other somewhere downstairs. In the attic room over Megan's head, Sean turned on a wailing electric guitar track and flopped down on his bed, the springs squeaking as he settled in.

“Megan?”

“Sorry, Mom. What?” Megan asked.

“Your father wants to know if there's anyone on your soccer team who can keep up with you.”

Megan blushed pleasantly. At the same time, she felt a rush of desperate heat, like she would give anything to see her father's face right then. Okay, so maybe this separation wasn't
that
easy.

“One girl's really good,” she said. “The rest of them are okay.”

There was a quick knock on Megan's door as her mother related this news to her dad.

“Come in,” Megan said.

It was Evan. He leaned against the door frame, his hands in his pockets. He was wearing distressed khakis, a white T-shirt, and a perfectly broken-in brown suede car coat.

“Hey,” he said.

Holy Abercrombie catalog,
Megan thought.

“What? Megan? Did I lose you?”

“Mom, I kinda have to go,” Megan said.

“Okay, sweetie,” her mother replied. “We'll talk to you soon.”

“Okay, Mom. Say 'bye to Dad for me!” she said, swinging her legs around to place her feet on the floor.

“'Bye! Love ya!”

“You too!” Megan replied, turning ten shades of purple. She hung up the cordless phone and tossed it on her bed.

“Hi,” she said, attempting a glance at Evan.

“Me and a few of the guys are going out to Logan to watch the planes take off,” he said. “Wanna come?”

“Oh . . . uh . . .”

Megan's stomach clenched with nervousness and she looked at
her watch, stalling. He was probably only asking her because his parents had told him to be nice to her or something. Besides, she had school tomorrow. And what if the McGowans got mad at her for going out so late on a school night? As her parents had pointed out about a zillion times, they were doing Megan a huge favor. She didn't want to take advantage of them. It would be so much easier just to plead new-school exhaustion and say she had to go to bed.

“It's kind of late,” she said, hating the childish sound of her voice.

“That's kind of the point,” he replied. “Come on. It's so cool. And I really want you to meet my friends. You'll love them.”

Megan forced herself to look at his face. His perfect face. And he actually looked hopeful. He wasn't messing with her. He really
did
want her there.

“Come on. I know you've got a bad girl in there somewhere,” Evan said, flashing his heart-catching smile.

You just could not be more wrong,
Megan thought. But she couldn't stop herself from grinning at his words. It was time for her to stop being such a wuss and start taking chances. An image of Ben Palmer popped into her head—the boy she had had a crush on for three full years but never said a coherent word to.

“Okay.” She stood up and grabbed her wallet from her dresser. Her pulse was racing so loudly in her ears she could barely hear herself say, “I'm in.”

 *  *  *

Megan gripped the side of her seat as Evan's car bumped along a dirt road, winding its way through the trees toward the top of a small hill. It wasn't the rough ride or the pitch blackness around
her that was making her tense, but the past twenty minutes of stalled conversation—of Evan asking her questions and her coming out with lame non-answers. She had never heard herself say “I don't know” so many times in her life—a phrase she kept repeating just because it was safer than trying to find something cool to say. Megan could not wait to get out of the car.

“So . . . do you miss Texas?” Evan asked, gamely trying to break the silence.

“Kinda,” Megan replied.

“Leave anyone behind? Best friends . . . boyfriends . . . ?” Evan asked.

Megan laughed nervously. “No. Well . . . yeah. I mean—”

“Best friend or boyfriend?”

“Best friend. Tracy,” Megan said. “No boyfriends.”