She rolls her eyes, but thankfully leaves, and I don’t hesitate in closing my bedroom door. Never underestimate the power of a hairbrush…
And why do people think they can just waltz into my room whenever they—
I curse out loud when I see that my Peachy Pop lip gloss is missing from the top of my dresser. She’s dead.
“Megan!” Mom yells for me, as usual. “Downstairs, please!”
It. Never. Ends.
With a dramatic groan, I force myself to trudge downstairs.
“What do you—” I stop when I see her grabbing the car keys. “Wait, where are you going?”
No, no, no, no! She can’t be leaving me with Hailee again.
“I need to pick your dad up from the airport,” she replies, glancing down at her wristwatch, “and I don’t have time to pick Kyle up from his friend’s house, so I need you to do it for me, please.”
This can’t be happening. Why do I have to spend my Sunday morning being a chauffeur to a second grader?
“And I want you to take Hailee with you.”
Great, now I’m a chauffeur for a seventh grader too…
“But, Mom—”
“Not another word,” she interrupts, putting a finger up to stop me. “Oh, and invite the neighbors over for dinner tonight on my behalf, okay? Let’s plan to do it around six.”
Crap.
I let out a nervous laugh. “You mean the Gravinskys?”
But I already know that she’s not talking about the Gravinskys, and I’m inwardly crying so hard.
“Our new neighbors, silly.” She laughs, opening the front door. “I wish I could invite them myself, but my spaghetti will make up for it.”
“Mom, wait!” I exclaim as she starts to walk outside. “I don’t know if inviting them over is a good idea!”
“Don’t be dramatic, Megan,” she tsks, shaking her head at me. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours or so, all right? I need to run some errands before getting your dad.”
And then she leaves.
I blink at the closed front door as my unfortunate reality begins to sink in. She wants me to invite the new neighbors over for dinner; and while we’re all eating her spaghetti, she’s going to ask them if they liked the blueberry bread. The blueberry bread that I threw to the ground. The blueberry bread that I probably destroyed.
Oh man, I’m going to be in so much trouble. One problem at a time though.
“HAILEE!” I yell, running back upstairs. “WE HAVE TO PICK KYLE UP!”
I pound a fist against her door, and then prop my hands on my hips. See? I knock.
“You’re so annoying,” she drawls, opening the door, “and are you seriously planning on picking him up while wearing that?”
I glance down at my mismatched pajamas before scowling at her. “No, genius, I’m going to change and then we’ll leave.”
She crosses her arms and gives me a bored look. “I don’t wanna go. Why can’t I just stay here?”
Translation: I want to secretly binge-watch Cloverdale.
“You’re going,” I tell her with an eye-roll, “and if you’re not ready by the time I’m dressed, I’ll just drag you to the car.”
“What. Ever.”
She closes her door in my face, and I sigh as I shuffle over to my room. This is going to be such a long morning.
I quickly change into jeans and a T-shirt; and since my hair’s not too knotty, I wave off the idea of brushing it. Besides, it’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone. I do brush my teeth though. Morning breath is a big no-no.
“All right,” I say, shoving my wallet into my back pocket, “let’s do this thing.”
I march over to Hailee’s room and pound on her door once again. “Come on, we’re leaving!”
She says something, but I can’t hear her over my growling stomach. Dang…how could I forget breakfast?
I give her door a final loud knock, and then I jog downstairs to the kitchen. What to eat? What to eat? What to eat?
I snatch a muffin from one of Mom’s containers before heading toward the front door. “I’M WAITING OUTSIDE, TWERP! GET YOUR BUTT OUT HERE!”
And with that, I go outside and close the door behind me. Then, as I walk to the car, I take a huge bite out of my muffin—only to spit it out all over the place.
Ew! What the crap is that? Bran? Flax? Hay?
“That has got to be the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.”
I curse under my breath at the sound of Mr. Annoying-But-Hot-Neighbor’s voice. And I don’t curse just because I don’t like him, it’s also because I shouldn’t be able to recognize his voice already. That’s not a good sign.
I ignore the bland taste that’s still on my tongue as I turn to glare at him. “I guess you’ve never looked in a mirror then.”
My parents haven’t raised me to be rude, but this guy is just plain ridiculous…and I’m not having it.
He smirks at that. “Oh please, don’t even try to act like this is disturbing.”
I roll my eyes as he motions to his whole body—which is fully clothed, thank God. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really annoying?”
“Sure,” he replies with a shrug, “but it’s so much more special when you say it, Feisty.”
If looks could kill, he’d be dead right now, just saying.
“Stop calling me that!” I exclaim with widened eyes. “I am not—”
“Who is this?”
And that would be the sound of my awestruck sister. Seriously, you’d think she just laid eyes on one of those guys from that boyband she’s obsessed with…
“The name’s—”
“This is no one,” I interrupt our jerk of a neighbor, making sure to glare at Hailee. “Let’s go.”
I grab her hand, and she proceeds to protest as I lead her to the car. “But
