More Than Maybe - Erin Hahn Page 0,16

we share conspiratorial grins.

She’s all in, too. Meg’s a year younger than I am, but in homeschool years, she graduated over the holidays. She hasn’t told her parents yet, but she fully intends to join me out west; she wants to do a gap year.

Meg is … well … exactly the kind of kid who takes a gap year. She’s tiny and effervescent. Her hair is multicolored, her nails are glitter, and she accessorizes with fairy wings. She teaches Sunday school, sings in the youth group worship band, and is a former competitive figure skating junior champion.

And somehow, she picked me to be her best friend. I have no idea why. I’m like the Grumpy Cat to her Hello Kitty.

“Still, we mother hens like our chicks close to the nest.”

Meg shovels more food in her mouth, and I follow her lead, tearing a big piece off some extra buttery garlic bread. Poor Phil. Maybe I can smuggle some home for him.

“That’s true,” I say finally. I’ve learned it’s best to not disagree with Meg’s mom. She had Meg super young and has basically made raising her daughter her life’s work. It’s admirable, and she’s done a bang-up job; Meg’s delightful, obviously. But I sometimes wonder if now that Meg is grown, it’s backfired on her. Like, what will she do when Meg moves away?

Of course she doesn’t know Meg wants to move away, so there’s that. Instead, she gets to project her fears onto me and my mom, and Meg gets to watch. Which I bet freaks the hell out of my best friend.

I’d hide behind my fairy wings, too.

“Done?” Meg asks, and I’m already on my feet, even though I’m not sure where we’re going. She turns to her mom. “Vada and I have to run.” She flutters over to kiss her parents on the cheek, and her dad looks up from where he’s been immersed in his reading on his tablet, surprised. Surprised dinner is over? Surprised to see us here? Who knows. In my fourteen years of friendship with Meg, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard her dad speak.

“Thanks for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Hennessy!” I say as Meg tugs me by the arm. We pull on our coats and are out the door.

I let her into my car and turn on the heat, giving it a chance to warm up. I turn to her, my expression amused. “And where are we running to?”

Meg rolls her eyes, the sunset catching the glitter on her lids, making her look like something out of a Tolkien novel.

“I needed out. Sorry.”

I sink back into my seat. “Haven’t told them yet?”

“I can’t!” she moans. “She’ll take it as a personal slight! I’m not trying to escape, I just want to see the world!”

“As you should,” I agree, noticing, not for the first time, that she says she and not they.

“But she’s terrified I will see too much and decide I want to embrace a life of sin.”

I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. It’s not funny, exactly, but pure-as-snow, won’t-even-wear-spaghetti straps, and hasn’t-seen-an-R-rated-movie Meg is the furthest thing from sinful.

“Shuddup,” she says, her lips twitching.

“You have to tell her eventually. You can’t just leave.” I pull out of the driveway, figuring we can cruise around for a bit.

Meg nods, resolute. “And I will. But not yet. Movie?”

“Can’t. I have to be home early since I’ll be out late tomorrow.” Ergh. I didn’t mean to say that.

“What’s tomorrow? Did you grab another shift?”

I hedge, taking my time fiddling with the satellite radio. I put on some new wave. “Ah, no. I’m headed downtown. For a show. Of sorts. With Luke Greenly?” I finish like it’s a question, and Meg is silent for a full minute. When I pull up to a light, I peek at her.

“Luke Greenly?” she asks.

“Y-yeah. Why do you say it like that?”

“Why did you say it like that?”

“I didn’t!” I insist.

“Neither did I.”

I roll my eyes, accelerating when the light turns green.

“Is it a date?” she asks.

“No!” I practically shout. “It’s for an assignment.”

“Luke Greenly.”

“Yeah. What?”

She shrugs. “Fine. I’ll say it. Luke Greenly? The Luke Greenly? The one you’ve had a massive crush on since freshman year?”

“What? What are you talking about? I have not!” My face burns, and I loosen my scarf, tossing it at her, and stab the Off switch on the heated seats.

“Oh, so you don’t fall asleep to the sweet, soulful sounds of his voice?”

Wow, do