Page 28 of Surviving You, Scotch and Sammy 1

Meg laughs softly, but she does the tiny curtsy thing again. “Hi Luca. You can call me Meg.”

“Meg. Pretty name. You just moved here?”

“Yeah. Brand new to town. Will we have classes together? I definitely need friends.”

“You and me?” He smiles charmingly. “No, we won’t have classes together. I’m still a sophomore, but you’ll have classes with the Sams.”

Meg’s hand drops from his instantly, like he’s a live wire and he just electrocuted her. “How old are you, Luc?”

“I’m fifteen, but--”

Her eyes flare wide, like she accidentally stepped on a crunchy bug, then dismissing him quickly, she moves onto Marc. Luc’s face falls so hard, I actually laugh. Young or not, he’s never rejected by the girls. Meg takes Marc’s hand in hers. “Hi, I’m Meg. And I don’t fancy going to jail for kissing children.”

Marc is almost a full foot taller than Meg, despite the fact he’s also younger, and he uses his impressive height to look down at her. “Also sophomore, and you don’t just get to diss my friend and jump to the next one. That’s not how we do things around here. So, nice to meetcha, Meg, but I ain’t buying what you’re selling.”

Her brows lift quickly, but she nods softly and does her tiny curtsy. “I meant no disrespect. Nice to meet you, too.” She looks to Angelo, but without introducing herself, she turns back to me. “I should go.”

Sam drags us forward and shakes his head. “It’s fine. Stay.” He extends his hand toward her, even as my body remains plastered to his chest. “I’m Sam Turner. These are my brothers. Welcome to town, Meg.”

“Thanks.” She turns around the garage quickly, then spotting a giant beanbag filled to capacity in the corner, she turns toward it. “I’ll go sit down. You and Sammy can visit with each other, and I won’t intrude. I wanna check in with my friends anyway. I haven’t replied to their texts from yesterday, so… Just pretend I’m not here.” She walks away quickly, flops into the chair gracelessly, and crosses one knee over the other so her left leg sits high in the air. She bounces her toes and flips her phone open.

Crap.

Luc scowls and sits back at his drumkit, and Marc continues to watch her for a long minute, his scowl a billion times more severe than Luc’s. I’m still kind of new in this group too, so I don’t even know all the dynamics yet, but I figure Marcus is all about loyalty. These people literally took him and his sister in, so I guess if anyone will get mad about someone dismissing his best friend, it’ll be Marc.

Angelo continues to fuss at his keyboard, but picks up a notepad from a small table off to the side and looks up at everyone. “We still need a name, guys. We can’t promote ourselves properly without a name.”

“I’m still into The Hearing Pandas,” Luc suggests quickly. His smile replaces the scowl instantly, Meg’s rejection forgotten just like that. He looks at me to explain. “You know, like, Def Leppard, but Hearing Pandas. I can already see the logo. Like a panda, maybe with some headphones on, or a guitar. Imagine all the swag we could get; cell covers, keyrings, pens.”

“You want people to walk around with pandas on their car keys?” Sam asks him snidely. “Are you high?”

“No,” he laughs. “Or maybe…” He stops when Angelo continues to glare at him. “Never mind.”

“Do we have any serious suggestions?”

The guys all breathe out deep exasperated sighs. I feel like they’ve had this talk a million times before.

“Who cares?” Marc whines. “I’ve said it a million times before. Everyone already knows who we are. We’re just ‘the band.’ Just leave it be.”

“We can’t just leave it be,” Angelo argues. “When we decide to promote, what will our flyers say? Saturday night at The Shed, come down and see ‘the band.’ That’s dumb!”

“That’s exactly what it could say!” Marc snaps back. “Cause that’s what it already is. And guess what? People still turn up.”

“What’s the shed?”

We all turn to Meg as she sits riveted on our group, with her phone still in front of her, but her ruse of not listening in long ago abandoned.

“The Shed is literally just a shed. We play there on weekends, and everyone comes out to party.”

Meg’s eyes light up. “That’s cool. Do you get a lot of people there?”

“Yeah, it’s packed every weekend,” Luc answers smugly.

Meg looks at me. “Is it fun?”

“I wouldn’t know.” I roll my eyes. “My folks haven’t let me go yet.”

“Your boyfriend is in a band at a party spot that gets numbers through the door every single weekend, and you’ve never been?”

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