Wonderwall
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Static, sparks of something. Lots of sleepless nights, lots of daydreams, pillows that never felt cool enough and were never warm enough, either. Some food just didn't have the same taste.
Sam was a sensible girl, she figured. There was no reason for her to be worked up over a little bit of nothing. She ignored all of the above. She ignored the gossiping girls in the bathroom talking about their cute little boyfriends and their cute little first dates. She ignored her pulse racing, and the lump in her throat.
She told Spencer a little bit. He'd nodded, put on his wise face, and said, "Aha," trying to sound like Yoda.
"So?"
"So you feel like your heart suddenly thumps faster, like bah-bump-bah-bumpBAHBUMPBUMPBUMP--"
"It doesn't sound like you beatboxing at all," Sam said. She was bored. Freddie was taking forever. If only Carly had known their lame project would take this long, maybe she wouldn't have agreed to do it.
"Oh," said Spencer. "Well. It was a creative interpretation."
"It was very creative," Sam allowed.
Spencer shrugged, but he looked a little happier. "You're my muse, kiddo."
"Is it gonna go away?" she asked.
"What, your muse-osity?"
"No, the thing. That happens."
"You'll probably just have to wait it out," Spencer said. "It comes and goes. Might just be a passing thing."
The front door opened, and there was Carly with a giant poster, and Freddie carrying everything else. Carly said something about grades, and started showing off their poster to Spencer. Freddie put his stuff down by the table, almost at her feet, and looked right at her.
"Hey," he said, half-smiling.
Sam looked mournfully down at the meatballs she had been snacking on. She was starting to feel full, and awkward, and maybe a little static-y. The meatballs were not going to make it.
"Still there," she told Spencer, who shrugged.
She pushed her plate over to Freddie. "Meatball?"
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