by Kate Brian
“Well, what’s not to like?” Evan said with a smile.
Oh God, he was going to kiss her. He was going to kiss her right there in the driveway. And she so, so wanted him to. She wanted him to so much she could feel it in every last molecule of her body.
But he has a girlfriend, Megan, she told herself. Hailey might be a bitch, but she was a girl and a teammate and, although the opportunity had never presented itself before, Megan was not the type of person who stole other people’s boyfriends, no matter how hateful those people were.
“Okay, just close . . .”
Megan couldn’t move.
“. . . your door very quietly,” Evan whispered.
He turned and got out of the car. Megan deflated.
She slipped out of the car and closed the door. Noiselessly she followed Evan up the driveway and along the side of the house. Aside from the crickets, all Megan could hear was the sound of her own breathing. Every other second she expected a window to open above them or a light to flick on, but everything was still. Evan really seemed to know what he was doing.
He reached the back door and opened the screen door halfway, stopping it with the toe of his suede sneaker. “Lesson one,” he whispered. “If you only open it this far, it doesn’t squeak.”
Megan smiled. “Got it.”
He bent down and lifted the welcome mat to reveal a single key. “Lesson two: Using this key is a lot quieter than pulling out your whole key chain.”
Megan held her breath as Evan unlocked the door. He dropped the key under the mat again and tilted his head, telling Megan to go in ahead of him. For a long moment, Megan paused, staring at the slim space between Evan and the door frame.
She had to turn sideways to get by him. As she slid into the house, her entire body brushed against his. Leg to leg, chest to chest, her cheek tilted just under his nose so that she could feel his hot breath on her face. She expected him to move slightly, to give her more room, but he didn’t.
Megan finally stepped free. She couldn’t stop grinning as the cool, open air of the kitchen whooshed over her, heightening the tingling warmth all over her skin. Evan turned his back to her as he quietly closed and locked the door. The house was deathly silent.
“Back stairs,” he whispered.
His voice sent shivers all through her body. Megan tiptoed behind him. He stopped at the bottom of the steps to let her go by and her heart pounded with anticipation. She put her foot on the first stair and paused, realizing she needed to say something—that she somehow felt that she might actually be able formulate a sentence. Maybe even say something cool.
This was her chance. She had to take it.
She turned abruptly and Evan walked right into her.
“Oh!” he said. He stumbled, placed his foot back on the floor again for balance, and clutched the wall. They both laughed and slapped their hands over their mouths. Megan relished the moment, laughing along with Evan, alone and forbidden in his darkened house.
“What?” he asked, his brown eyes sparking in the dim moonlight. “What is it?”
“I just . . . I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for taking me out tonight,” Megan said. “It was . . . very cool of you.”
Evan smiled and looked deeply into her eyes. He leaned forward and Megan found she couldn’t breathe. This was it. This was definitely it. And suddenly she wasn’t even thinking about Hailey or the fact that half an hour ago he had been making out with someone else. All she could think about was the fact that she really wanted to kiss him. And that she should try to intake some oxygen. If this was going to be her first kiss, she didn’t want to faint on him. Megan’s eyes fluttered closed as Evan leaned closer and closer. Then, ever so softly, he touched her cheek. She felt him move away and she opened her eyes. He was holding out a fingertip to her.
“Eyelash,” he whispered. “Make a wish.”
Megan’s heart quickened. She bit her lip, made her wish, and blew.
“What’s going on?” The stairwell flooded with light.
“Dad!”
“Am I dreaming or is it after one in the morning?” John said from above. There was a bend in the stairs, so they couldn’t see him, but Megan could tell how pissed off he was from the timbre of his voice.
“Crap,” Evan said under his breath.
“Just digging the hole deeper, Ev,” his father said.
“Oh God,” Megan whispered, covering her eyes.
“Both of you get to your rooms,” John said. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”
“Sorry,” Evan mouthed to Megan.
“Now,” John said.
And with that, Evan brushed past her and jogged up the stairs.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Boy Guide
Megan Meade’s Guide to the McGowan Boys
Entry Three
Observation #1: Boys are very stealthy when they want to be.
Evan has all kinds of tricks for sneaking back into the house after hours. (I know you’re dying to know why I know this.)
Observation #2: Boys lose their cool when snagged by their parents.
Once inside the house, Evan is not so stealthy. Of course, maybe if he hadn’t stopped on the stairs to brush the eyelash off my cheek and have me make a wish, we would never have gotten caught. (Ahhhhhhh!!!!)
Observation #3: Boys have one-track minds.
Unfortunately, Evan’s train is not on MY track. (I know, major letdown.) But who knows? Maybe his train will be making an unscheduled stop in Meganville.
Okay, sorry. No more metaphors this late at night. I promise.
Five
Megan sat back in the window seat after practice on Wednesday and stared at the list of sites about Asperger’s syndrome on Google. For a disorder she had never heard of until yesterday, there sure was a lot of information out there. She clicked on the first site and started to read.
Downstairs, Sean’s band was playing some disorganized tune that sounded vaguely familiar. Megan was on edge, expecting every second to hear a knock on the door, waiting for the judgment to be handed down.
Asperger’s syndrome is a developmental disorder characterized by sustained impairment of social interaction and the development of repetitive patterns of interests, behaviors, and activities, Megan read. That sounded about right. But what to do to make Miller comfortable around her? She scrolled down through causes and comparisons to autism and finally found a section she could use. “Living with Asperger’s.”
The back door slammed and Megan cracked the blinds slightly so she could see out the window. Finn walked across the yard and into the toolshed on the far side. Megan watched and waited for him to come out, wondering what he needed back there. She waited. And waited. No Finn. Why was he hanging out in the toolshed?
“Mom! Mom! Ian’s sitting on my Patriots hat and he won’t let me have it back!” Caleb shouted at the top of his lungs.
“It’s my hat! No one said you could have it!” Ian shouted back.
“Yuh-huh! Dad did! He said you outgrew it, fathead!”
Megan stifled a laugh.
“Ian! Caleb! Get down here!” John bellowed, cutting the argument short. “In fact, all of you, in the living room! Someone get Finn out of the backyard, please. We’re having a family meeting.”
Megan’s heart stopped beating and she froze. Maybe if she didn’t make a noise, they would forget she was here. There was a general grumbling among the boys, but from the sounds in the hallway, they were all trailing out of their rooms and down the stairs. The music from the garage was cut dead with a crash of cymbals and Miller went outside to get Finn. Apparently these family meetings were serious business.
For a long, bizarre moment, Megan was enveloped by complete and utter silence. And then it happened.
“Megan? Would you join us, please?” John called.
Megan closed her eyes. Setting her computer aside, she took a deep breath and headed downstairs. Fr
om just a few steps down she could see the entire living room and all the boys sitting on the U-formation couches like they were waiting at a doctor’s office.
She glanced at Evan, who was looking right at her. Somehow he managed to shrug with his eyes, like, “What can you do?”
Megan tromped down the last few stairs, feeling everyone watching her. Regina and John stood in front of the fireplace, facing their sons. There was a space saved between Finn and Doug on the big couch in the center. A quick glance around the room told her that was exactly where she fit in heightwise. Apparently Miller was in charge of the seating arrangements.
“Megan, would you sit next to Finn, please?” Regina asked.
“Sure,” Megan said, wiping her palms on her jeans.
She squeezed uncomfortably into the tight spot and Doug made an elaborate shift, turning his knees away from her so that no part of his body was touching any part of hers. His move only pressed her farther into Finn’s side.
“Sorry,” she said, blushing.
Finn cleared his throat. “No problem,” he said.
He lifted his arm and laid it on the back of the couch, giving them both a little more room. Megan tucked her arms in front of her and crossed her legs tightly, making her body as small as possible. She hoped the meeting was quick, because she wasn’t going to be moving a muscle.
“Okay, I’m sure you all know why we’re here,” John began. “Your mother and I know that you guys are all doing your best to make Megan feel welcome.”
Doug let out a grunt that only Megan could hear and Finn shifted slightly, pressing himself into the arm of the couch. Megan’s heart pounded a mile a minute.
“Now, we were hoping we weren’t going to have to have this conversation. We were hoping we could trust you guys to set a good example,” John continued. “But Evan’s behavior last night has forced our hand.”
“Nice one, loser,” Doug said.
Megan blushed furiously. Doug pulled out a pen, uncapped it with his teeth, and started to add to the doodle on his jeans—the same ones he had worn the day before.
“Now, in case any of you knuckleheads were having any funny ideas about the new member of the household, your mother and I have one thing to say,” John continued. “As far as you all are concerned, Megan is not a girl.”
Doug cackled and Megan sank down in her seat. She stared at a knot in the center of the wood floor.
“Then what is she?” Caleb asked innocently, making Doug and a couple of the others laugh.
“Caleb,” Regina said softly, scoldingly. “What your father is trying to say is, while Megan is living with us, you guys are to treat her like a sister. You all are brothers and sister, got it?”
Megan was dying to look at Evan. Instead her eyes darted right and landed on Ian, who was blowing gum bubbles. Then she managed a glance at Sean, who was looking at his watch. Finally, with the effort of ten men, Megan managed to find Evan. He was staring straight ahead, his heels tapping an unsteady beat on the floor.
“Megan?” John said.
She turned and looked at John.
“What?” she asked.
“Do you understand?” John asked.
“Oh. Yes, sir.”
“And the rest of you?” John asked.
“Yeah, hands off Megan. We got it,” Doug said. “Can we go now?”
“Wait! Does that include Caleb?” Ian asked, cracking up at his own joke.
“Nice one, wise guy,” Regina said. “You just got yourself trash duty for a week.”
Doug started to get up.
“We’re not done yet,” his father said. Doug flopped back down with a huge sigh.
“I know you’re all used to having the run of the house around here, but that changes now,” John said, raising his voice slightly. “Megan’s parents have entrusted us with her care, and that means all of us. As of right now, you will all start respecting her privacy. That means no going into her room without permission, not touching her things, and from now on, the oak tree out back is off-limits.”
“No fair!” Caleb cried.
“That’s the climbing tree!” Ian added.
“Not anymore,” his father said. “And we’re going to have a curfew.”
“What? That’s crap!” Doug blurted. “Sean never had a curfew!”
“Well, things were different when Sean was in high school,” Regina said.
“Yeah, Kicker the buzz kill wasn’t here,” Doug said.
“You want a week of trash?” John asked, his eyes flashing.
Oh God. They’re going to kill me. They’re all going to kill me, Megan thought.
“The new curfew is midnight,” John said, gazing sternly at each of his sons in turn. “And don’t think that your mother and I aren’t going to enforce it. You think you’ve been grounded before, just test me. A new day has dawned, guys. Get used to it.”
“Dad!” Evan said, sitting forward.
“Trust me, Ev, you’re the last one who should try to argue with me on this,” his father said firmly.
“Thanks a lot,” Doug said under his breath.
Finn smacked him on the back of the head as Megan prayed for the sweet relief of death. If these guys hadn’t despised her before, they definitely did now.
“All right, everyone,” Regina said, clapping. “Let’s eat.”
* * *
That night Megan scrubbed her face vigorously with the exfoliating apricot face wash Regina had left for her in her bedroom. It seemed that Regina was going to continue to try to put Megan in touch with her girly side whether she wanted to be or not. But that was the least of Megan’s problems—Evan hadn’t even looked at her once during dinner and Doug had kept kicking her foot away under the table. And every time someone passed a dish to Megan, Ian had shouted, “Hands off!” and cracked up laughing. The whole experience had been completely humiliating.
Everything’s going to be fine, she told herself, staring into her own eyes in the mirror. Unfortunately, she didn’t quite believe it. The McGowans had just put the nix on any possibility of Megan and Evan getting together, however remote it had been. Plus they had apparently made Doug hate her even more—something she hadn’t thought possible. At least John, at Regina’s urging, had put locks on her bedroom and the bathroom. Otherwise she might wake up one night to find Doug getting ready to smother her with a pillow.
Megan splashed water on her face and turned off the faucet. Hmm. Okay, so this actually smells pretty good. As she pressed a towel to her skin, she heard voices on the other side of the wall and paused. They were coming from Evan’s room.
“This sucks,” someone whispered. “Since when are they so big on us following the rules?”
“One guess,” another voice replied.
Megan shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. She tiptoed over to the toilet seat and sat down to listen.
“Look, I’ve never seen Mom and Dad that serious,” someone else said. “You monkeys better get ready for a big-time crackdown.”
“We had this place wired tight, yo,” Doug said. “Now the girl has scorched that. I say we ice her until she cracks. We make it so bad she’ll be beggin’ to jet to Korea.”
Megan swallowed hard. Wasn’t anyone going to defend her? Finn? Evan? Anyone?
“Did you know that the Yankees have appeared in thirty-nine World Series and have won twenty-six of them?”
Megan smiled sadly.
“Yeah, we know that, dill hole,” Doug snapped. “But who won in 2004?”
“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 fie
ld 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.
Six
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.