A.N.: Okay, I need your help with another Megan Meade's Guide fanfiction; I'm going to rewrite my fanfiction 'Little Women,' redesigning it, and I want your opinions on the name of Megan's pretty, brunette older-sister, and which of the brothers she should end up with.
The names to choose from are Ella, Samantha "Sammy," Cecily, Tamsin, Poppy, Evelyn "Evie" and Astrid. For middle-names I'm thinking Violet, Isidore, Iris or Elizabeth. If you could review and in that review, tell me what you think, I'd really appreciate it.
Rose Amongst Thorns
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sabotage
Rose pinned her hair in a low, twisted knot side-bun at the base of her neck, pressed her hair to make sure it stayed, picked out her 'Money, Honey' MAC Dazzleglass lip-gloss and swept it over her lips, put it in her little cosmetics bag for reapplication later, smoothed her dad's vintage Def Leppard 'Hysteria' t-shirt, shoved her things into her purse and walked into the hallway.
She had slept a little later than usual, because she had been up half the night first thinking of Lucia, then of Evan and their fight and him slapping her, and John and Regina yelling at Evan after dinner, but she hadn't thought she'd been that late, because when she got downstairs, only Ian and Caleb were still in the kitchen, putting their breakfast bowls in the dishwasher.
"Hey kiddos," Rose said, smiling; she glanced around. The rest of the boys obviously hadn't been abducted, because the carnage of the kitchen table and the island could only have been created by teenage boys without boundaries. "Where is everyone?"
"Gone."
"What do you mean, gone?" Rose asked, blinking bemusedly.
"Gone. To school," Ian said flatly. "Come on, Caleb. We're gonna miss the bus."
Caleb picked up his Spiderman backpack and, hand-in-hand, the boys headed for the door. Caleb glanced over his shoulder as she followed, his expression tortured and a little upset, his eyes wide and sad. Rose wondered why. She waved him off, and the two boys walked down the lawn to the gate, and the street beyond, which was blocked from view by a boundary of old trees.
Rose checked the lawn, and the barn. Empty, except for her truck. Realisation hit, and her eyes burned. They had left without her. Evan had left without her.
No big deal, she said, trying to keep her nerves from jumping about all over the place. I'll just be a little late.
She headed over to her truck, but when she neared it, she realised something was wrong. Very wrong. As she approached, she saw that the back two tires were completely deflated. Her jaw dropped, and she circled her truck. All of the tires were deflated; someone had actually, purposefully let the air out of them.
It was indescribable the kind of hurt she felt at that realisation, that one of the McGowans would do something like that to her.
Those flat tires were a declaration of war, plain and clear.
And she wasn't going to sit this one out; she'd be on the frontlines of this one; because they had messed with her truck.
And it looked like she would be walking all the way to school. I guess I'll be a lot late. So much for being Mr Sears' favourite.
She trudged down the lawn toward the street, wondering if she could catch up with the boys and maybe hitch a ride on their bus.
"Hey!"
Rose paused just by the gate, squinting back toward the house. Sean was standing by the front door with a steaming mug in his hand. He was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans and his brown hair was as usual artistic chaos. Dark stubble covered his chin and cheeks.
"Hi," Rose said uncertainly, raising her voice so Sean could hear her.
"You walking?" Rose glanced at her truck, and Sean followed her gaze, then frowned.
"Looks that way," Rose said.
"You're gonna be late," he replied.
"Looks that way," Rose repeated.
"I'll take you."
"Really?" Rose asked, surprised. Hadn't Sean heard about the house-wide freeze-out?
"Get your helmet," Sean said, jerking his head toward the house. Rose hustled back up the lawn and ran upstairs; she grabbed her 'Chibs'-embellished helmet and her leather chaps, which she never went on a motorcycle without and paused when she glimpsed her dad's old jacket; she tugged it on over her 'Hysteria' t-shirt and did the zip up; it was snug and gloriously warm because of the silk lining, soft like butter and supple. She ran downstairs again, after trading her flats for a pair of Pogue's old broken-in biker boots that he used to wear when he was a pre-teen and which fit Rose because they were small enough.
Sean was waiting on his Harley, which was gorgeous and terrifically loud. The low roar was music to her ears. He glanced over his shoulder and Rose saw his eyes widen as she strode across the lawn to him, in her leathers, buckling her helmet, and he quirked an eyebrow. She swung her leg over the bike, settled behind Sean, tucked her bag between them, and slid her arms around his waist.
It was a little strange at first, straddling the bike and holding on to Sean, whom Rose had rarely spoken to, and who rarely spoke to her either. The farther they got from the house, the more Rose enjoyed the ride, remembering what it felt like to ride with Pogue, going nowhere but just enjoying freedom. Sean had done a killer job with his bike. He was barely opening it up, but she could both hear and feel the power of the engine. He took a turn at top speed and she tightened her grip around his waist slightly.
"Sorry!" Sean yelled. "Not used to passengers."
"S'okay!" Rose replied. "What kind of shocks do you have?"
"Two under the rear and another up front," Sean replied after a pause. It was a lot more comfortable ride than Jake Salvatore's shock-inferior bike.
I can tell," she said. "Think you can show me your specs sometime?"
"Sure. Yeah," Sean replied.
"What year is the engine? Ninety-seven? Ninety-eight?2
"A '98," Sean replied. "But it's got a couple of new parts." He sounded confused, and Rose smiled to herself. She knew there weren't a lot of girls out there who knew engines of any kind like she did.
Sean pulled his Harley to a stop in the drop-off loop outside Baker High. A few kids were still milling around outside, defiantly ignoring the time, while a couple more raced across the parking lot to get inside before the bell.
"Thanks," Rose smiled, climbing off the bike; she unclipped her helmet and took it off.
"You know a lot about Harleys," Sean said.
"My dad loved 'em," Rose shrugged. "He didn't have any sons, so he had to make do with me. I helped him build my best-friend's bike for his sixteenth-birthday."
"You ride?" Sean asked.
"I was about to take my test in North Carolina," Rose said sadly. It had been scheduled for last week, in fact. Her dad was going to help her build a bike from scratch, the way he had for Pogue.
Sean nodded, and for the first time since Rose had met him, it seemed like he was actually, really looking at her. "I'll take you out for another ride sometime," he said.
"Really?" Rose asked, her cheeks flushing, hopeful and pleased. "I mean, you don't have to—"
"I'll take you out for another ride sometime," Sean repeated with an amused smirk. "You better get inside." Rose glanced over her shoulder at the front-doors, and sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. She glanced at Sean.
"Do I have to?" she asked miserably. Another day of being ostracised. She would have preferred to climb onto the back of that Harley and ride around with Sean until dinnertime. Sean smirked.
"Go on," he said.
"Fine… Thanks, again," Rose said, smoothing a hand over her hair.
"Hey," Sean called, as he revved the engine, and Rose started toward the school. Rose turned to look at him.
"Don't let my brothers get to you," he said. "They're a bunch of tools." Rose grinned and Sean tore off; Rose dashed up the path to the doors, up the steps, and ran into her History classroom just as the last bell rang. She hadn't had time to take off her leathers or get rid of her helmet, so she got a lot of looks as she went to her seat and sank down. She shrugged her jacket off, keeping it in her lap so that it didn't get stolen, and spent the hour trying not to listen to the girls' whispers and the boys' curious, eager expressions.
As he had yesterday, Miller met Rose outside the cafeteria doors.
"Hi, Miller," Rose smiled.
"Hi," he replied, following her into the cafeteria. "Are we sitting inside again?" Rose paused and looked out across the room. Ria, Pearl and Jenna were already sitting at their table; just like yesterday, all three of them had been pointedly ignoring her all day, even Pearl, who sat at the same table as her in Art and who had to share their camera with her for their Photography unit. Finn sat at the other end of the room with his friends, sketchbook open in front of him, a spread of art supplies clogging up his lunch-tray. A couple of Hailey's friends stared her down from their table; Rose shot them a cool glare and glanced at Miller.
"Let's go outside," Rose said finally. "It's beautiful out today."
"Yeah. It's beautiful out today," Miller said with a nod; Rose smiled and followed him to the courtyard; a few boys caught her eye and checked her out shamelessly; she guessed the story of her arriving in History wearing motorcycle leathers had spread. She had managed to take her chaps off before French, but she still had to carry her helmet because it was too awkward in her locker.
They dropped their things off at Miller's favourite table and went back inside to the lunch-line. Little clusters of girls whispered in low tones, then laughing obviously and loudly, glancing over their shoulders at her. Rose tried to ignore them, fixing a salad with frilly lettuce, slices of apple and pear, dried cranberries, crumbling feta cheese, glazed walnuts and raspberry vinaigrette; she picked out a yumberry-pomegranate smoothie made with peaches and strawberries and a ripe plum, paid and walked back outside with Miller.
She sat down and organised her tray the way Miller liked it, shrugging off her jacket and folding it in her lap.
"Why do you have that?" Miller asked, looking at her helmet as she lifted it onto the bench beside her instead of keeping it on the table.
"Oh, it didn't fit in my locker," Rose said, shaking her little pot of salad dressing before she opened it and drizzled it onto her salad. She paused and glanced up at Miller, wide-eyed. "Hey! You just asked me a question without telling me something about the Yankees!"
Miller flushed and raised his shoulders, looking down at his tray. "I practiced." Rose stared at him, a great swell of pride rushing over her.
"You did?" she half-whispered, breathless and choked up with pride. "Miller! You are… You are such an awesome kid, you know that?" Miller looked up and beamed at her.
"Hey," someone said, and Rose and Miller both glanced up. Aimee hovered next to their table with her tray. It was the first time Rose had seen her all day; she looked very pretty with her hair pulled back by a thin ice-blue headband embellished with a swirling feather-design made of tiny glimmering rhinestones, and her pretty blue eyes glowed because she wore a pale-blue top.
"Hi," Rose said, blinking in surprise. Considering Miller was the only one who'd even looked at her today, she found Aimee's appearance a pleasant surprise. "What're you doing out here?"
"I just thought it was so sunny out…I thought I'd see what it was like out here," Aimee said, looking around as if she had never been out in the little courtyard before. "It's nice."
Rose's insides thawed out at Aimee's kindness; she had come out here to sit with her—them. She and Aimee exchanged a smile.
"So can I…?" Aimee asked, glancing shyly at Miller, who was very intent on arranging his tray.
"Miller, do you mind if Aimee sits with us?" Rose asked gently.
"Aimee?" Miller said, blushing slightly.
"Yes. This is my friend Aimee," Rose said. "She's Hailey Farmer's sister. You know Hailey, don't you?" Miller nodded to his tray.
"Hi," Aimee said, smiling.
"Hello," Miller replied without looking up; Rose smiled warmly; considering the first time she had met him, he hadn't spoken a word until the next morning, this was a big step for him. Rose smiled and gestured Aimee to sit down. As soon as her friend was seated, Rose reached over and arranged everything on her tray in height order, down to the little sachet of salt for her fries. Aimee looked at it for a second, shrugged, and picked up her sandwich.
"So, Rosalie, how're you liking your new school?" Aimee asked, her tone dripping with chipper sarcasm. Rose smiled, her mouth full of salad, and chuckled deep in her throat. She swallowed.
"Oh, it's just lovely. Everyone is just so sweet to me," she said, playing along; Aimee laughed.
"Well, at least some of us are," Aimee said. "Right, Miller?"
Miller didn't respond. He clasped his hands under the table and stared at his untouched food. Aimee glanced at Rose uncertainly. Rose put her fork down and cleared her throat.
"Miller, why don't you ask Aimee something? Something about herself," Rose said coaxingly. "You can use that trick we figured out. You know, with the Yankees." Miller glanced up at her; he had the skittish look of a desperate, terrified animal trapped in a cage and Rose was taunting it. But beneath the skittishness, she saw the hope and defiance that Rose knew made up most of Miller's character. If it wasn't for the Asperger's, he probably would have been up there competing with Evan for Most Popular, because when he got talking, he was…enigmatic, and charming, and absolutely the sweetest guy Rose had ever met. She knew Miller wanted to be able to do this, to have casual conversations with passersby, to make friends, to help his mom stop worrying about him; he was sensible of how much Regina worried about him, and had told Rose he wanted her to stop.
"Go ahead," Rose smiled warmly. "You can ask Aimee anything you want. She's very sweet, I promise." Miller's back had curved into a perfect C, but he was rigid with tension as he stared down at the table. He took a deep breath.
"The New York Yankees captain Thurman Munson was killed in a plane crash in 1979," he said in a rush. "Are you in Rosalie's class?"
Aimee looked a little stunned, but regained her composure quickly. "Yeah. We're both juniors—and we're on the cross-country team together." Rose smiled.
"The New York Yankees captain Derek Jeter won his first Gold Glove in 2004. Do you like baseball?" Miller asked.
Aimee laughed, glancing quizzically at Rose. Rose just smiled and shrugged one shoulder. Aimee was only going to learn who Miller was the way they all did. Slowly but surely. And boy was it worth the effort Rose had put into it.
"Actually, yeah," Aimee answered. "I'm an Oakland A's fan. I know, it's bizarre, but my dad grew up in northern Cal, so—"
"Did you know that Hall of Famer Reggie Jackson played for the Oakland A's for nine years?" Miller asked, looking directly into Aimee's eyes for the first time. Aimee blushed prettily, and a smile played at the corners of her mouth. Mesmerised, Rose thought the appropriate word was.
"No… I didn't know that," Aimee said, smiling. "I guess you learn something new every day." Rose smiled and tucked into her salad.
"So, what's this going all over school that Rosalie Meade turned up in head-to-toe leather this morning?" Aimee asked, her smile teasing. Rose sighed and shook her head.
"Someone let all the air out of the tires on my truck," Rose said, glancing covertly at Miller; he froze, and paid special attention to his lunch. "Sean McGowan gave me a ride to school on the back of his Harley."
"Sean? He's your oldest brother, isn't he, Miller?" Aimee asked. Miller nodded. "I think I remember him from when we used to live next-door to you, ages ago. So who d'you think did it, Rosalie? To your truck, I mean."
"I don't know," Rose sighed heavily. Miller glanced up at her, his cheeks flushing. "Don't worry, I won't ask you to rat out your brothers, Miller." She knew he probably knew who it had been; despite having the appearance of always looking at the floor, Miller was unerringly observant. So he had probably already catalogued that Aimee did look very pretty today, and that she smelled faintly of warm apricots, subtle peonies and pralines—the 'Forever Sunshine' shower-gel she had bought at Bath and Body Works when they'd gone to the mall. He probably already knew she smiled a lot because there were the faintest hint of lines at the corners of her mouth, and that she didn't wear any makeup except lip-gloss and mascara, and didn't need to.
"Are you still swooning?" Rose asked, laughing softly, as she and Aimee left the showers later that afternoon after practice; Aimee shot her a shy smile and grabbed her clothes from her locker. Rose hastily towelled herself dry.
"It's just…the way he looks at you, you know. I mean, he doesn't just glance at you or try and look down your top like some guys do; when Miller looks at you, he looks right at you, like…into your soul or something," Aimee said, her cheeks warming as she smiled. "You know, when you went to buy a cookie, he asked me if I wanted to come over to his house to watch a baseball game sometime."
"Miller asked you that? Miller McGowan?" Rose asked, stunned. She grinned when Aimee blushed and nodded happily.
"Uh-huh. I told him my dad was a Red Sox convert, and he talked about his dad being the Sox's number-one fan," Aimee smiled. "I don't think I've ever met anyone more interested in baseball."
"Oh, yeah, Miller's an expert," Rose chuckled.
"Can I ask you something?" Aimee said, biting her lip.
"Sure," Rose smiled.
"What's wrong with him?" Aimee asked, flushing a little darker. "I mean, everyone says he's sick." Rose shrugged.
"He has Asperger's Syndrome," she explained. "It's a form of autism. Do you know anything about it?"
"Not really," Aimee admitted, frowning. "I mean, I've heard of autism, but I've never met anyone who has it."
"Well, it takes all kinds of forms, but basically it's a social dysfunction," Rose explained. "That's why he was a little sketchy at first when you came to sit with us; it takes him a little longer than most of us to get used to new people. With Miller, it's a few things. He has to have things arranged just so, like your lunch-tray, or he gets agitated. And he's not great with new people, but clearly he likes you."
"He does?" Aimee blushed. Rose smiled.
"Regina says he doesn't talk to a new person for at least a week. When I moved here, he didn't even look me in the face until breakfast the next day," Rose said thoughtfully, glancing at Aimee as she brushed her hair and, with a smile, accepted Rose's hair-dryer. "With you it took a matter of minutes. And he's also incredibly gifted at math and memorisation, and he has a knack for stats. He's obsessed with—"
"The New York Yankees," Aimee smiled, nodding.
"Exactly," Rose chuckled. "Miller's a really sweet kid if you get to know him; he just…needs a little bit more patience and attention, that's all."
"What was that thing…when he told me about the Yankees and then asked me a question?" Aimee asked, blow-drying her hair while Rose dressed.
"It's just a little game we made up; he got agitated when he couldn't ask me stuff about me, so I suggested he tell me something about the Yankees, and ask me a question right after," Rose said, beaming proudly. "Today he didn't need to tell me something to the Yankees before talking to me, which is a big step."
"You like him, don't you," Aimee smiled. "I mean—not like that—but like…I don't know, like, you like hanging out with him, right? You sit with him most lunchtimes." Rose shrugged, smiling; she took her hair-dryer back and blasted her hair.
"He's just one of those really nice guys, you know," she shrugged. "You don't often meet guys like him. He's even nice to live with, too."
"I bet you can't say that about all the McGowan boys, huh," Aimee said, frowning. "Why would they let the air out of your tires? That sounds a little juvenile to me."
"Well, they are male," Rose said heavily, twisting her hair into a side knot-shape bun and pinning it into place. "I think it has to do with Evan being grounded again."
"Again? What'd he do this time?" Aimee asked.
"Slapped me," Rose said, shrugging. "We were arguing about Hailey."
"Oh, say no more!" Aimee said, shaking her head. "No need to explain that one! I swear to god, my sister has him so whipped! She gets her kicks from screwing him over."
"Literally," Rose said dryly, remembering Doug. Aimee grimaced.
"Good thing my lunch has already gone down," she said, clutching her stomach. "I still haven't recovered from that mental image."
"I think they should pay reparations for emotional damage," Rose said sadly. "Did I tell you I went home yesterday and found Caleb dressed up in my clothes, and wearing bright-pink lipstick?"
"Caleb's the little guy, with the cupcakes?" Aimee said, obviously trying to keep track of the brothers.
"Yup. And he now has a fetish for my sparkly red rhinestone Louboutin pumps," Rose tutted, shaking her head. "Luckily, Finn got pictures of him all dressed up, so when Caleb gets married, we can show them to the whole reception." Aimee laughed.
"You have to admit, living with them has to be pretty fun sometimes," she said. "I can remember a few times when we used to hang out with the McGowan boys as kids. It was anarchic."
"It still is!" Rose laughed. "For the most part. John and Regina have cracked down on rules since I moved in, but Caleb still drinks full-fat Pepsi at seven in the evening and has water-fights with Ian after dinner."
"Does John McGowan still make his famous milkshakes?" Aimee asked. "I can still remember him scooping great mounds of peanut-butter into a blender with brownies and Reese's cups and, like, a whole quart of ice-cream."
"He does!" Rose laughed. "We had those exact milkshakes on Sunday, watching Back to the Future."
"That's the one thing I really remember from living next to the McGowans—not my house, or anything; watching Mr McGowan make those milkshakes—and Finn crying when my sister knocked his out of his hands," Aimee said, smiling.
"Finn cried?" Rose said, eyes widening as she beamed. "Really?"
"I think he's been scared of Hailey ever since," Aimee said thoughtfully. Rose laughed and slicked on some lip-gloss. "That's a really pretty colour lip-gloss. I've been thinking about going to the mall again; I got some babysitting money I wanna spend on new makeup. D'you wanna come?"
"I…I can't. I'm grounded," Rose sighed, pouting. Aimee cringed sympathetically.
"Why?" she asked; Rose told her about Friday night and everything that had happened between her dropping Aimee off at her house and her joining Rose and Miller for lunch today.
"Jeez, okay, yeah; never a dull moment at the McGowan house," Aimee shook her head, as they walked down the steps and along the path. "Was Doug okay?"
"Yeah, he was fine; he has a couple of huge black eyes, and some emotional scarring, but he's just as obnoxious as always," Rose shrugged.
"Well, Evan's not out here, so I'm guessing you two are still on the outs," Aimee said, glancing at the end of the path where Evan usually parked, waiting for her. "Do you need a ride home?"
"Actually, I would really appreciate that," Rose smiled. "If you don't mind."
"No, I don't mind," Aimee smiled. "I thought about stopping through Meadowlark on the way home. You interested?"
"In ice-cream? Always," Rose smiled.
"I thought I'd treat myself; I think it's gonna be one of the last few hot days," Aimee sighed. "I hate it when summer ends. I guess it never does in North Carolina, huh."
"No. I lived in tanks and shorts. I had to buy jackets and sweaters here," Rose said, wrinkling her nose. "I even own a wool coat and a ski-jacket."
"You'll be thankful for them in a few weeks, trust me," Aimee said. "My dad still complains about the winters here, even though he and my mom haven't lived in California for, like, twenty years. When it gets cold here, you don't wanna be leaving the house. My car hates it when it gets cold; she doesn't do rain, or hail, and she hates snow." Rose laughed, and they walked over to Aimee's car, and she drove them to the drive-thru dairy just off Main Street, for vanilla-chocolate swirl frozen yoghurt, and then dropped Rose off at the McGowans' house. They never stopped talking.
"Hey, Rose," Aimee said, as Rose opened the car-door and climbed out of her seat; she bent through the window.
"Yeah?"
"D'you think your grounding includes homework study groups?" Aimee asked, a troubled frown pulling her forehead. "History is really kicking my ass, and my parents want to hire a tutor, but I really don't want to do that; I know Mr Sears has been using your essays as examples in class. D'you think Mr and Mrs McGowan would mind if I asked you to help me with my History homework?"
"I can ask, but I don't think they'd mind," Rose said thoughtfully. "Just as long as you can help me with my math."
"Deal," Aimee said quickly, grinning.
"Alright, I'll call you about it later," Rose said, taking inventory of the cars; Evan's Saab, her truck. Sean's Harley glistening just inside the barn, a few others belonging to his buddies beside it. John and Regina weren't home yet.
"Cool," Aimee smiled, raising her fist to knock knuckles gently. "I'll see you tomorrow. Oh, and, hey, say hi to Miller for me."
"Oh, I will," Rose promised her, grinning. Aimee flushed prettily and laughed, and Rose waved from the porch as she drove away. It felt nice to have a friend like Aimee.
A.N.: Please review! And remember to vote for your favourite name for Megan's sister in my 'Little Women' fanfiction.
