Megan Meade's Guide to the McGowan Boys (10 page)

God, I really hope it doesn't involve a stack of
Playboy
s or something,
Megan thought, grimacing.

Still, even with that disgusting thought in her mind, she couldn't help giving in to her curiosity. Besides, she was supposed to be immersing. Part of that was finding out what guys did when they were by themselves in a toolshed, right?

Bracing herself, Megan walked over to the door and pulled it open. Finn whirled around, his eyes wide, and stared at her. He
was wearing a blue T-shirt that read
Good Boys Vote
and it was dotted with fingerprints of purple paint. His hair was a little more mussed than usual.

“Okay, life flashing before my eyes,” he said, letting out a breath. “You scared the crap outta me.”

“Sorry,” Megan said.

Something in her mind told her that she should just back out of the room, but she was too stunned to move. Finn was not, thank goodness, doing anything unsavory. He was holding a paint palette and a brush and standing in front of a canvas. Around him, behind him, on the floor, and leaning against the walls were dozens of other canvases, all in various stages of completion. None, as far as she could tell, were finished.

“Wow,” Finn said, looking her up and down. “Wander into a bad part of town?”

Megan looked down at the scrape on her left knee and the nasty bruise forming on her shin.

“No. It was . . . practice,” Megan said. “I'm sorry, should I go?”

“No! No,” Finn said, pulling a stool out from the wall. “Come in. Take a load off. You look like you could use it.”

Megan smiled and inched into the shed, afraid to touch anything with any part of her body. She slipped sideways past his easel and sat down on the stool, which shifted under her weight. Megan threw her arms out for balance and Finn caught her hand.

“Sorry. It's kind of old,” he said.

“No problem,” Megan replied. She looked at his hand
clamped around hers. He released her, clearing his throat and slapping his palm against his jeans.

“So, Hailey give you those?” Finn asked, lifting his chin and looking at her legs. He squirted some paint from a tube onto his palette and pressed his brush into it, mixing it around.

“How did you know?” Megan asked.

“I know Hailey,” Finn replied, blowing away a blond curl that fell in front of his eye. “At the Fourth of July party at the town pool in second grade, she stole my Popsicle and shoved me into the deep end. I've been afraid of her ever since.”

“Seriously?” Megan said with a smirk.

“I never joke about Popsicles,” Finn replied with a half smile.

Megan laughed and looked around. The half-finished painting nearest to her showed a pair of hands, one laid across the other in a graceful pose. The fingers, however, hadn't been detailed and they tapered off into nothing. Behind that was what appeared to be the bare shoulder and neck of a girl who was half looking away from the viewer, but her hair and features had never been filled in. Every painting, in fact, featured some odd angle on some different body part, but none of them were completed and not one was a traditional, face-forward portrait.

“I know what you're thinking,” Finn said, touching his brush to the canvas in front of him. “This guy never finishes anything.”

Megan flushed. “No . . . I just . . .”

“That's what I think every time I walk in here,” Finn said. “It's so bizarre. I get these inspirations and I come out here all ready to throw my vision down on the canvas, but once the rush
is gone, I freeze up. It's like I don't know where to go.” Finn placed his brush in a cup of water and glanced at her over his shoulder. “So, is she giving you hell?”

“Who?”

“Hailey,” Finn replied.

Megan smirked. “Nothing I can't handle.”

Finn turned away from his painting to smile at her. “Good,” he said.

For some reason, that simple word flooded Megan with relief. Maybe it was the way he said it. Like he was proud of her. Or impressed. Or not at all surprised.

“Maybe I'll even make her repay you your Popsicle,” Megan quipped.

“That's okay. I'm over Popsicles,” Finn said. “I'm more of a milk shake man now.” He pulled up on his belt loops and they both laughed.

Finn held Megan's gaze until she glanced away. Suddenly she was overcome by the familiar sensation of not knowing what to say next. Finn seemed like a nice enough guy, but like the rest of his brothers, he had been in on the debate about how to run Megan out of town. Was he just being nice to her because none of his brothers were around? Was it all just some kind of act?

Finn cleared his throat again and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Megan thought of what Evan had told her earlier that day—that the best way to deal with his brothers was to meet them head-on. Her pulse raced at the thought, but at least Finn was alone. Maybe taking them on one at a
time wouldn't be as difficult. Plus, talking to Finn somehow seemed to be a lot easier than talking to anyone else in this house.

“So . . . I . . . I heard you guys talking about me last night,” Megan said, looking down at her hands.

Finn's brush hand dropped and he glanced at her, clearly embarrassed. “Oh. Okay. You . . . Good.”

“Good?” Megan asked.

Finn flushed. “Yeah, I do that sometimes. I was gonna say, ‘You did?' but I was also gonna say, ‘Not good,'” he said, putting his brush and palette down on a cluttered shelf. “I kind of have my own special language.”

Megan smiled. She knew the feeling.

“So . . . you heard us,” Finn said, pushing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Yeah, so . . . you all want me gone?” Megan asked.

“We were just . . . We're just kind of used to the way things were.”

“I get that. I do,” Megan said. “But don't you guys think that this is hard for me too? I've never had to live with this many people and my parents are gone and, well, in case you hadn't noticed, you guys are kind of . . .”

“Overwhelming?” Finn asked.

“Good word,” she said.

“Look, everyone just needs an adjustment period,” Finn said with a shrug. “Try not to let them get to you.”

Megan looked up into Finn's gray-blue eyes and smiled slightly. “So . . . you're not one of them?”

Finn smiled in return. Like Miller, his whole face lit up and his eyes crinkled in the corners. “Having you here is . . . Let's just say it's different,” he replied. “But don't worry about me. I think I can handle it.”

Megan lifted her eyebrows. “Oh, you do?”

“Yeah,” Finn said matter-of-factly, looking her straight in the eyes. “I do.”

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Boy Guide

Megan Meade's Guide to the McGowan Boys

Entry Five

Observation #1:
Boys have no problem stealing food off your plate without asking.

I'm telling you, it's ALL ABOUT their stomachs!

Observation #2:
Boys are not always on the ball.

Turns out Finn blabbers just like me sometimes.

Observation #3:
Boys CAN think for themselves.

Evan sat with me at lunch and Finn totally doesn't agree with the whole “ice Megan” plan either. Maybe Doug isn't quite the evil mastermind he thinks he is.

Megan emerged from the lunch line with her tray, a rolled-up copy of
Motorcycle
magazine sticking out from the back pocket of her baggy fatigues. If she was going to be sitting outside with silent Miller again, she was bringing her own entertainment. She knew better than to hope that Evan would join her two days in a row.

“Megan! Over here!”

Aimee waved at her from the center of the cafeteria. Megan glanced at the courtyard and saw Miller already engrossed in his game. He hadn't said one word to her or Evan yesterday. As much as she was hoping to make a breakthrough with Miller, Megan decided a little social interaction might be a nice change of pace. She made a beeline for Aimee, Ria, and their friends.

“Hey,” Aimee said, smiling as she dropped back into her chair.

“Hi,” Megan said. “Hi, Ria.”

“What's up?” Ria said. “Have you met Jenna and Pearl?” she asked, gesturing at the two girls across from her.

“No . . . hi,” Megan said, sliding into the seat next to the new girls.

She recognized Pearl from the team. She had short blond hair and a round face and was busy making a bracelet from a box of colorful beads. Jenna had a long dark braid that hung down to the middle of her back and was sporting a pair of stylish aviator glasses.

“Hi,” Jenna said. “You're in my Spanish class, right?”

“Sixth period with Ms. Krantz?” Megan asked. “I don't think she likes me too much.”

“That's 'cuz you know more Spanish than she does,” Jenna said with a grin.

“Pearl was my grandmother's name,” Pearl announced, sliding a purple bead onto a thin string next to a random array of blues, greens, and aquas.

“Oh . . . okay,” Megan replied. “That's really pretty,” she added, gesturing at the bracelet.

“You want one? I can make you one. I make them for everybody,” Pearl said excitedly. Aimee, Ria, and Jenna all raised their arms slowly. Their wrists were packed with bracelets.

“She can't sit still,” Aimee explained.

“Really? I'm the same way,” Megan said.

“You are?” Pearl's whole face lit up. “See? I told you guys I don't need Ritalin. Megan and I are perfectly normal. So, Megan, do you want a bracelet? I just came up with a couple new styles.”

“Yeah, sure. I'd love one,” Megan said.

“Great!” Pearl reached past Jenna to drop the box of beads in front of her. “Pick some colors.”

Megan laughed. “Okay. Can I do it after lunch?”

“Sure! Absolutely!” Pearl replied.

“So, Megan, let's get down to it,” Ria said, leaning her elbows on the table. “How, exactly, did you end up bunking in boy heaven?”

Megan took a bite of her sandwich. “I wouldn't exactly call it heaven.”

“Omigod, are you kidding? The McGowan boys?” Aimee said. “They're like the hotness brigade.”

Megan laughed and took a long slug of soda. “The hotness brigade?”

“What? They are!” Aimee said. “I still can't believe my sister is dating one of them.”

“Please. Once those two both won best looking in eighth grade, we all knew they were gonna be swapping saliva sooner or later,” Ria said, digging into her pasta.

“Ria!” her friends exclaimed.

“Ew,” Aimee added, sticking her finger down her throat.

“So . . . what?” Ria said to Megan, ignoring the others. “Did you win some contest or something?”

“Our parents are old friends,” Megan explained, flushed over the image of Evan and Hailey swapping spit. “My dad got transferred overseas and I didn't want to go, so the McGowans offered to let me stay with them.”

“Wow. So have you, like, seen any of them naked?” Ria asked.

Jenna, Aimee, and Pearl were all rapt with attention.

“No, I have not seen any of them naked,” Megan replied. She looked around and leaned in toward the table. “But I have seen most of them in their boxers.”

Jenna nearly swooned. “Omigosh. Evan McGowan in his boxers. What was it like?”

Scary,
Megan thought, recalling the major morning hard-on. “It was . . . interesting.”

“Evan McGowan is so perfect,” Pearl said. She paused in her bracelet making and looked off dreamily. “I had my first ever sexual daydream about him.”

“Really?” Megan asked.

“I think most of us did,” Aimee replied. “How could you not? I mean, he's such a flirt.”

Megan's body heat skyrocketed and she put her sandwich down in favor of her soda. “He is?”

“What, you haven't noticed?” Ria asked. “That boy will flirt with anyone, anywhere, anytime. Even the ugly girls.”

“Ria!” her friends shouted again.

Megan forced herself to breathe.
Of course he's a huge flirt,
she thought.
Did you think you were somehow special?
But even as she thought this, she realized that she had. She had thought that his comments and smiles meant something. That they
had
to mean something.

“What? It's a good thing!” Ria countered, eyes wide. “To have an Adonis like that flirting with the trolls? It's gotta be good for the self-esteem.”

Okay, I'm going to smack myself right here, right now,
Megan thought.

“Sorry. Ria doesn't realize that not all of us need attention from cute boys in order to have self-esteem,” Jenna said, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

Megan recalled how giddy and confident she felt whenever Evan joked with her or called her Kicks and felt a wave of shame wash through her. Her feminist mother would be so appalled.
But I don't
need
his attention,
she told herself.
I just . . .
like
it.

“Well, whatever,” Aimee said. “I wish he would quit it already. He's gonna give Hailey an aneurysm and the rest of my family will suffer the consequences.”

“She doesn't like it, huh?” Megan asked, swallowing hard.

“Hates it,” Aimee replied, spearing some lettuce out of her salad. “She lives for that guy, I swear. To be honest, I don't see what the big deal is. He can be kind of a jerk and he isn't even the hottest one.”

“Oh no. That would be Finn,” Ria put in.

“Really?” Megan asked, happy for a change in subject.

“Omigod! Evan is
so
much hotter than Finn,” Pearl said.