The Pretty One(62)

He picks up on the third ring. “Hi, Megan.” I can hear the clanging of pots and loud voices in the background and I know immediately that he’s in the kitchen of some Lucky Lou’s. “Is everything okay?”

“No, not really.” My voice is cracking as I step away from the busy sidewalk, taking refuge in the doorway of an abandoned building.

“@#$%!” he screams, causing me to jump straight up in the air. “Check the temperature on those next time! Ugh! @#$%!” I catch my breath as I listen to my dad yelling out instructions to the unlucky kitchen staff. “Sorry ’bout that princess,” he says finally, once again talking in a normal voice. “Dealing with idiots over here. Anyway…let me go somewhere more private.” I can hear the background din grow still. “All right, so tell me. What’s wrong?”

I hate to admit it, but the few minutes it has taken to get my dad’s attention have helped to calm me down somewhat. But when I realize that I’m going to tell Dad about my feelings for Drew, I can feel my heart cave in on itself. “I just…I just…”

“Megan?” he says.

“I don’t feel good,” I say, turning back toward the street as I wipe my runny nose with the back of my hand.

“You don’t?” he says, surprisingly sympathetic. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s just…my…my heart.”

“Your head?” my dad says. “Does it ache or something?”

Close enough. “Uh-huh.”

“I want you to go home right now and take it easy, you hear me? You want me to call the school? Because I’ll call them right now and tell them.”

Just hearing the protective tone in my dad’s voice makes me feel better. At least there’s someone who still cares about me.



Even though I have my dad’s permission to get out of school for the rest of the day, I somehow manage to tough it out through the final bell. When I get home I throw my hair in a ponytail, put on my sweatpants, and zip up the hoodie I’ve been wearing all day. I’m pouring myself my third bowl of Cap’n Crunch when I hear a knock on the door. I open it while chewing on a mouthful of cereal.

Oh my God. It’s Drew.

“Hey,” he says, holding Lucy’s white fuzzy sweater up in the air. “Your sister forgot this.”

I’m so incredibly relieved and happy to see him that I’m tempted to fling my arms around his neck and smother him with kisses. After I swallow my Crunchberries, of course.

“Is she here?” he asks, glancing over my shoulder.

Huh? What is he talking about? “I thought she was with you.”

Drew scratches the back of his arm nervously. “I dropped her off an hour or so ago.”

Okay, this is really odd. “She must’ve gone back to school or to Marybeth’s or something.”

Suddenly, we’re gazing at each other and my legs almost give out. Damn those mesmerizing eyes of his.

“Um, I’ll give her the sweater when she gets back,” I say, taking it from him.

“Great, thanks.” Drew starts walking back down the steps. As I watch him go, I think of all the things I could say to keep him here, like, “Could you open up this jar for me?” Or, “I think there’s a burglar in the house!” But instead I wipe my nose with the sleeve of my hoodie and step backward so I can shut the door.

“Megan!”

I whip the door back open.

“I’ve got an hour to kill before I have to pick my stepdad,” Drew says. “Do you mind if I hang out here for a while? Maybe we can run lines or something.”

Drew wants to hang out? With me? “Okay,” I say, as my heart turns into rubble.

He walks inside and I lead him into the living room and then stop so suddenly he almost crashes into me. My emphysema has returned and now I’m practically gasping for air. Drew is here, in my house, alone with me. What will we do? What will we talk about? And why am I wearing my old fat girl sweatpants with a hoodie that has a ketchup stain above my right boob?

“What’s this?” Drew points at the diorama in the middle of the coffee table.

“It’s a diorama I’m working on.”

“Cool. Of what?”

I adore how Drew seems interested and curious—about everything. “It’s Captain Ahab’s cabin, from Moby-Dick. I was hoping Mrs. Bordeaux might give me some extra credit.” I do a mental head slap. Why did I admit that I needed extra credit? It sounded so…loserish. “Pretty pathetic, I know.”

“That’s not pathetic!” he says. “I wish I had your talent. I could barely get through Moby-Dick.”

“Same here.”

“So…how do you do this? Get a shoe box from…” Drew picks it up and checks the bottom of the box. “Manolo Blahnik.”

“I stole it from my sister.” I look for a reaction from him at the mention of Lucy. As happy as I am that he’s here, it still feels weird, considering he was just on a date with her.

“Step one, steal a shoe box,” Drew says, running his fingers on the inside. “Hey, what’s this lined with?”

Hmmm. Not much of a reaction there.

“Oh, the wood? It’s really thin Baltic Birch. You can get it in sheets that are an eighth of an inch,” I announce, as if that news will really make his day.