Page 30 of Surviving You, Scotch and Sammy 1

– Sammy –

Debut at The Shed

Meg shoves wadded up pyjamas at me, almost pushing me back a step with her attempt to bullshit our fathers for the night. “Put your pj’s on, Sammy. We’re getting ready to make some popcorn.”

I roll my eyes, but Art Montgomery pokes his head into the bedroom and smiles indulgently at his daughter. “You girls are all set?”

“Yes Daddy. We’re going to watch a movie and eat snacks.” Meg bats her lashes sweetly. “Do you want to join us?”

My eyes snap to hers in disbelief, but Art chuckles and shakes his head. “I won’t intrude, and I don’t really want to watch whatever girlie movie you two have planned. But have fun.” He stops for a moment, then his eyes come to mine. “Thank you for coming over, Sammy. I know it was hard on Megan to leave her old friends and come to a new town. You’ve been so kind to my baby.”

Crap.

I have every intention of dressing up and sneaking out in twenty minutes flat, and now I feel bad. “Thank you for letting me sleep over, Mr. Montgomery.”

“It’s my pleasure. You girls have fun, okay? I’ll be down in the den. Call out if you need anything, otherwise I’ll just leave you to it.”

“Thank you, Daddy. We’ll see you in the morning.”

He taps his knuckles on the door jam, as though he’s hesitant to leave, but with a nod of his head, he turns on his heels and leaves.

“Meg!”

She starts stripping her pyjamas off, dropping them to the floor, then darting across the room in her underwear. She closes and locks her bedroom door quietly, then she turns back to me. “What?”

“What if he accepted your offer to watch the movie?”

She scoffs as she heads to her walk-in closet and starts tossing clothes around. “He wouldn’t have. He never does. He’d rather spend his time in the den talking to my mom’s picture. But if he did, he’d be asleep within twenty minutes anyway.”

“What are you doing?”

She stops rummaging, then her eyes come back to mine. “I’m getting ready to go out. What does it look like?”

I start chewing on my thumb nail. “I dunno, Meg. What if he comes back in looking for us?

“You wanna go out, right? You wanna see your man in action?”

Do I want to see Sam on a Friday night, when he’s playing with the band, in his element, and where we could have time together without parents or teachers looking over our shoulders? “Well, yeah, but--”

“No buts!” She tosses a sparkling navy dress at me. “Put this on, put your hair up. Let’s go blow Sam Turner’s mind. My dad is not going to come back in here looking for us, you have my word. This isn’t my first rodeo. He’s gone for the night, and he won’t be back.” She looks up at me with a sequin top in one hand and jeans in the other. “He’s scared of cramping my style, scared of scaring off my new friend. We won’t be seeing him again until breakfast, and we’ll be back long before then.”

“Meg…”

“Put your dress on, Sammy. Or you’ll be going dressed the way you are.”

I look down my body, at my flip flops and shorts. We’ve been sitting by her pool most of the day, getting some sun and making bad food choices. This may have been a forced sleepover, a ruse for a future sneak out, but I’ve had a lot of fun anyway.

After a shower and Meg blowing my hair out till it’s perfectly smooth and soft, I find myself awkwardly shimmying down a drain pipe at the back of her three-story home. I scratch the inside of my thigh painfully, but the excitement and adrenaline sprinting through my body has me practically flying. I’m not scared. I’m exhilarated.

I spring from the side of the house when I have about three feet to go, then giggling and fixing my dress, I watch Meg’s ass sway as she shimmies down after me. She bravely jumps the last five feet, her backpack bouncing as she lands nimbly like it’s no big deal, then taking my hand in hers, we giggle and run toward the giant garage housing about thirteen cars. “Jesus, Meg. How rich is your father?”

She shrugs carelessly. “Dunno. He has a thing for collecting cars.” She walks to a wall in the far left and opens a small door. Her sparkling nails tap as they peruse and dismiss keyring after keyring.

“Umm, Meg…” We aren’t stealing a car. No way, nope, nuh-uh. I’m drawing a line in the sand.

She grabs a set of keys, then spins back and stops when I don’t move out of her way. “No.”

She smiles mischievously. “Relax.”

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