Megan Meade's Guide to the McGowan Boys (9 page)

“The Red Sox. But—”

“And who did they kick the big, fat butts of to get there?” Doug asked.

“The Yankees, but—”

“Then why don't you just shut up?”

Megan took a deep breath. She slipped her towel over the towel bar and took a good, long look at herself in the mirror. If someone set a challenge like this in front of her on the soccer field, it would be rally time. But seven-to-one odds were not good. These guys not only had home field advantage, but they had their own language, their own history, their own secret playbook. Megan was going in blind.

You should just walk in there. Shock the hell out of them. Tell them that you heard everything and that they're not going to run you out of here without a fight,
Megan told herself. But of course she would never do that.

As the conversation next door degenerated into a sports debate, Megan turned away from her reflection. She was starting to wonder if coming to live with the McGowans was the worst mistake of her life.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Boy Guide

Megan Meade's Guide to the McGowan Boys

Entry Four

Observation #1:
Boys don't know when to keep it down.

Megan wrapped her still-damp hair back in a ponytail and pulled her red hoodie over her head. The sun was still pink in the morning sky and the first sounds of stirring could be heard from the boys' rooms. She snagged her backpack, stuffed her feet into her sneakers, and headed for the stairs on her tiptoes.

The kitchen was dark and silent, just as she had hoped it would be. She yanked open the door to the cupboard and stepped inside. The place was stocked like a bomb shelter. Twelve boxes of cereal, at least fifty cans of soup, rows and rows of macaroni-and-cheese boxes, crackers, cookies, and jumbo bags of pretzels. Regina and John must have to go shopping every day to keep their little brood of demons fed.

Megan scanned the shelves, found an open box of granola bars, and grabbed two. Then she snagged a fruit punch Gatorade from the fridge and headed out the back door. Nothing like breakfast on the run.

Her bike was parked with half a dozen others under a metal awning that stretched out from the side of the shed. Putting a wrapped granola bar between her teeth, she extricated the
handlebars from the others and walked her bike to the driveway. She slipped the Gatorade bottle into the bottle holder, hopped on, and pedaled toward school. She only hoped that after two rides in the back of Evan's car, barely paying attention to where she was going, she would somehow remember the route.

Fifteen minutes later, Megan popped the curb and rode over the grass, right up to the bike rack at the front of the school. Kids were already arriving and a few clumps of people stood outside, chatting or looking over each other's notes. Megan tore open the second granola bar and took a nice long drink from the Gatorade bottle as she walked up the steps. She was feeling good—independent. Who needed the McGowan boys? She could take care of herself. From the corner of her eye, she saw Hailey and her friends watching her as she reached the top step.

“So . . .
Kicker
,” Hailey said with a smile. “I see you're no longer using my boyfriend as your chauffeur.”

Megan was not in the mood. She paused for a long moment and stared at Hailey straight in the eye until Hailey's face finally fell. Then she looked at the other girls who had smiled at the joke and let her eyes slide over them. There were two girls who hadn't laughed or reacted. Megan smiled at those two before biting into her granola bar and striding past them into the building.

 *  *  *

Miller was already sitting at his table in the courtyard when Megan walked out with her lunch tray that afternoon. One thing Megan had learned on the Web was that if Miller was ever going to be comfortable with her around, she was going to have to let him see that she was here to stay—that she was someone he
needed to get used to. While avoiding the other boys seemed like a good plan, hanging with Miller was the only way to help him. Now was as good a time as any to start.

She didn't want to invade his personal space, so she sat down across the table from him and at the other end, as far away as possible. Through his headphones, she could hear an announcer calling a game, rambling on about the pitch count. Miller looked up and stared at her, his eyes blank. Flushing under his unabashed gaze, Megan looked down at her tray. She began lining up the items in front of her in height order. Soda can, apple, mini–ketchup bottle, fruit cup. The burger and fries she kept right in front of her. When she was finished, she looked up at Miller again and he smiled.

He had a great smile. It lit up his entire face. Megan smiled back and Miller returned to his lunch. Megan took a big bite of her hamburger as a shadow fell across her meal. She looked up to find Evan standing at the end of her table. Her cheek was stuck out chipmunk style. She groped for a napkin and covered her mouth while she finished chewing.

“How's it going?” Evan asked, sliding into the chair across from hers. He had no bag, no books, no lunch. “Hey, Mills,” he said, nodding at his brother.

Miller lifted his hand and turned up the volume on his radio.

“It's pretty cool, you know. You sitting out here with him,” Evan said.

In the sunlight she could see that his brown eyes had these amazing gold flecks that made them sparkle. But she couldn't get sucked in. She refused.

“Why don't you guys sit with him?” Megan asked, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. Somehow Evan didn't seem as nerve shaking as he had the night before.

“You know how it is,” Evan said with a shrug. “So, what happened to you this morning? You left.”

“Yep,” Megan said flatly. “I left.”

There was a long pause and someone on the radio hit a home run.

“You heard us last night, didn't you?” Evan said, hunching forward with his hands clasped between his knees.

Megan cast a look at him that showed him she had heard everything. Evan's head fell.

“You know what? It's fine,” Megan said, grabbing a french fry. “I'll just keep to myself. . . . I won't bother anybody . . . and you all will just forget I'm even there.”

“Yeah, bad idea,” Evan said.

“Excuse me?” Megan said, her face heating up.

“Look, ignoring my brothers is not the answer,” Evan said. “Trust me. I've lived with them a little longer than you have. You ignore them, they'll just turn the screws even harder.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, you
can't
ignore us,” Evan added. “In case you haven't noticed, we're kind of everywhere.”

Megan snorted a laugh, then tried to cover it by taking a loud slurp of soda.

“You can't let them think they can walk all over you, 'cuz they will,” Evan said. “The in-their-face tactic is pretty much the only thing they respond to.”

Megan chewed on the rim of her soda can.

“Megan? Are you in there?” Evan asked, waving a hand in front of her face.

Megan nodded and sat forward, placing her can back down on the tray. “I'll try,” she said, staring at the tray. “Thanks.” She looked up at him. “I mean, for the advice.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Evan said, grabbing a fry from her tray. “I still can't believe my parents, you know? With that curfew? I bet your parents never gave you a curfew.”

Megan shrugged. Her parents had never needed to give her a curfew. She always came home on her own, way earlier than any self-respecting teenager should ever be home.

“Whatever. Screw them,” Evan said. “Sean never had a curfew; why should I? They think you're here and now suddenly we need rules?” He scoffed and took another french fry. “I'm not gonna be following any of them.”

Megan's pulse raced and she stared at his mischievous smile. When he said he wasn't going to be following any of the rules, did that include the “hands off Megan” rule?

“You know what? It's a good fry day. I'm gonna go get something to eat,” he said.

“Oh. Okay. I'll . . . see you later.”

Evan looked at her, perplexed. “I'll go get something to eat and then come back,” he said slowly, like he was talking to someone who had just learned English.

“Oh,” Megan said, smiling. “Okay.”

He walked through the door and Megan followed him with her eyes, a goofy grin plastered to her face. Evan was going to eat
lunch with her. By choice. This had to mean something. And unless she was wrong, they had just had an actual conversation with only one little snort to speak of. This day was looking up.

As Megan returned to her lunch, something inside the cafeteria caught her eye. Hailey was glaring at her. She was sitting at a table in the center of the room and she and all her friends were openly, blatantly glaring at her.

Megan's stomach churned and she averted her eyes quickly, pretending not to have noticed. Unbelievable. Why was Evan going out with someone who was obviously so bitchy? He deserved so much better. Megan picked up her hamburger and took a big bite.

From now on, it's every woman for herself,
Megan thought. Then she giggled at her sudden boldness, grabbed her school-issue copy of
Hamlet
from her backpack, and buried her flushed face in its pages.

 *  *  *

The sun beat down on Megan's back as she took the ball up the sideline. She was working on pure adrenaline. Blood dripped from a scrape on her knee, soiling her sock and the cushioning on her shin guard. Her arm was streaked with dirt and her nose was on the verge of running. Still, all Megan cared about was the feel of the wind blowing her hair back as she raced down the field. All she could see was the goal in front of her. All she could sense was Hailey breathing down her neck. The girl was right on her heels.

Megan set up to pass, but at the last second, something caught her ankle and she flew off her feet. Her forward motion
was helped by a swift shove between her shoulder blades and Megan's head snapped backward as the rest of her body slammed into the ground. It hurt like hell, but she didn't stay down for long. She was not going to let Hailey get the best of her, no matter how many illegal tackles the girl flattened her with.

“Hailey! What the hell are you doing?” Ria Wilkins shouted, offering her arm to Megan.

Ria was a compact, powerful defensive player. She and Aimee had gotten Megan's back all day, taking some of the burden off her once they realized that Hailey was going to try to kill Megan every time Megan got the ball.

“What?” Hailey said, stopping and popping the ball up to her hands. “I'm just doing my job.”

“Please! You totally shoved her down!” Aimee countered.

“You guys, it's fine,” Megan said, sucking wind. “It was a clean play.”

“It was not and you know it,” Ria replied. “I'm sorry, but where I come from, you get a kick-ass player on your team, you don't try to sideline her at practice.”

“What are you saying, Ria?” Hailey asked, getting up in Ria's face. “Are you saying I don't care about this team?”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” Ria replied, staring at Hailey.

Suddenly the whistle started bleating furiously and Coach Leonard broke into the center of the rapidly growing circle. Megan stepped aside and wiped the back of her hand under her nose. Hailey had been fairly violent today, but Megan had given as good as she had gotten. Megan's hits had been clean, unlike Hailey's, but Hailey had eaten plenty of turf herself. Her elbow
was banged up and her face was streaked with grass and dirt. It was all part of the game.

“All right, girls, that's it. I think we're calling practice a little early today,” Coach Leonard said, glaring at all of them. “I like the energy I'm seeing out here, but Hailey, Megan, if you two don't clean up your act and do it fast, the refs will be sidelining you before you can say O and ten,” she added, glancing at both of them. “We're not gonna be winning much without you two on the field, so I suggest you start finding a way to work together.”

“Yes, Coach,” Megan said quickly.

“Yes, Coach,” Hailey added.

“Good. Now before you hit the showers, I want to remind you all that at our last Saturday practice before the game against Hacketstown, we're going to be electing our new captain,” Leonard said. “So start thinking about what kind of person you want to have leading this team.”

Almost everyone looked at Hailey. Clearly the girl had a lock on the captainship. Megan thought of her team back in Texas—the team she was supposed to captain this year. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to ignore the pang of regret in her chest.

“All right, let's hit the showers,” Coach Leonard said.

The group broke up and Vithya Jane, the girl Megan had recognized at Logan the other night, came over and slapped her hand. “Nice practice,” she said.

“Thanks,” Megan replied, surprised that any friend of Hailey's would give her props.

Vithya smiled and jogged to catch up with Hailey and Tina while Aimee and Ria flanked Megan.

“We should clean up that knee,” Ria said, wincing as she looked at the blood.

“Eh, I kind of like it,” Megan said. “It's my first Wildcat battle scar.”

Aimee and Ria laughed and the three of them chatted all the way back to the gym.

 *  *  *

Megan was sure she was fine until she stepped off her bike in the McGowans' driveway and her muscles cramped up. Apparently she was due for a bit more stretching. Hailey had really given her the workout of a lifetime that afternoon. If the girl didn't watch out, she was going to wind up improving Megan's game instead of putting her on the injured list.

The back door closed as Megan came around the house, and she saw Finn cross the yard and head into the toolshed again. Megan wheeled her bike over to the side wall and propped it up with the others. She paused for a moment, listening. There was no noise. Nothing. What was he doing in there?