Sorry if this story seems random and not in line with any of the other things I write. I just needed to sort some thoughts out. This seemed like the best way. I hope you enjoy this! Written partially for my grandpa, partially for a friend of mine who just left for USMAPS. :P MISS YOU DANNY!
PS: At the end it gets really weird and I know your going to say 'why'd you end it like THAT? That's such a weird place to end it! What do you mean?' but I felt that was where I should end it and I'm the author so I win so ha!
"Freddie! I'm hungry! Do you have any edible substances I can steal?" Sam yelled, slamming the Benson front door shut behind her as she entered the overly sanitized, beige apartment. Freddie was sitting on the kitchen floor with a dazed look on his face. She stopped abruptly in front of him, casting a shadow over him.
"Didn't I lock...never mind." he stopped, not bothering to finish his accusation. This was Samantha Puckett. Locks weren't a problem for her. Neither were most high tech security systems.
"Why are you on the floor?" she asked, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion, an expression that Freddie found very cute. He'd never tell her, of course, but he was always thinking about her. Her little quirks. Things only he would notice.
He scrambled through his thoughts, trying to form a coherent sentence that made some amount of sense. Let's see. He got the letter. He opened it. Freaked out. Put it on his bed. Then he sat down. Apparently on the kitchen floor. He hadn't the faintest clue why.
"Why…aren't you on the floor?" he asked, spinning the question around in some sort of psychological whirlpool, smiling when her face returned to one of confusion.
"We're sorry. The question you have proposed is too deep and profound for a Puckett brain to comprehend. Due to circumstances, we were forced to ignore this question and proceed forward without further recognition of said statement. We apologize for the inconvenience. For more information please call our hotline at 1-800-WHY-AM-I-TALKING-THIS-WAY?" Her voice rose and fell dramatically, like she was talking to a five year old. Until the end, when she screamed out the end of the phone number. Freddie scratched his head, still on the kitchen floor, obviously stumped by the amount of vocabulary words she was able to cram into one reply.
"I don't know. I thought your vocabulary was limited to cuss words, disrespectful phrases, and slang. I wasn't aware you could do voice recordings as well. I'm impressed." he smirked, looking up at her from the linoleum. The up side to this was she couldn't beat him to the ground if he upset her. He was already there. But knowing Sam, she'd find a way.
"Put a butter sock in it, nub. Tengo hambre but Crazy stocked your fridge with health food crap." Sam complained, not even bothering to look in the fridge or the cabinets. Mrs. Benson's shopping list was always the exact same thing. Two gallons of non-fat milk (Freddie was a growing boy who needed his calcium). One loaf of fiber plus all whole wheat bread. Three gallons of applesauce (a safe way for Freddie to get his fruit without worrying about choking). Five packages of tofu (she didn't want to risk meat due to the potential for food poisoning). And prune pops. Sam shuddered. She always had prune pops. "Where's all your good food at?" She asked Freddie, turning around to face him again.
"File cabinet under my desk. My rooms the one on-"
"Save it, dipwad. I know where your room is." she replied, heading down the hallway.
"You do?" Freddie asked, standing up, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.
"Duh."
"But you've never been in my apartment before. That scares me." He muttered, following her down the hall, surprised that she was headed in the right direction.
"Well, yeah, but I'm Sam. I just know these things." She smirked, pausing outside his bedroom door.
"How do you really know?"
"Isn't it obvious? Your apartment and Carly's are in the same complex, therefore have the same layout. And I know her house better than mine, so yours can't be that much harder."
"Wow. I didn't know you could use that much common sense in one day."
"I know huh? I'm so proud of myself." Sam laughed sarcastically, turning the doorknob and pushing the door open, revealing his bedroom. On his bed was an open envelope with a piece of paper folded up near it. There was an empty cardboard box on the floor and the contents were spilled out on his bed, littering his Galaxy Wars quilt with photo albums, badges, and a folded American flag. Freddie's stomach dropped to his feet when he realized he had left that out. The letter! How could he have just left it there?
"Oh, wait! Sam! Uh, could you hold on like a minute or-" he called, stumbling over a pile of laundry and catching himself on the doorframe.
"Uh, Freddie? What's all this?" she asked, picking up the letter and unfolding it. Her eyebrows scrunched again and he had to shake his head to focus his thoughts on the situation at hand.
"Nothing. Just stuff. The file cabinet's over there." he added, pointing awkwardly to the location of the long forgotten snacks. She flipped her head around, sending her golden curls flying over her shoulder and out of her face. Not like the dramatic slow-motion way you see in hair ads. In a Sam way. Beautiful without trying to be. Without standing out. Without being a Carly. He liked that.
"What kind of stuff?" she challenged, making clear that she was not hungry anymore. Sam wanted answers. She opened the last fold and her eyes began to scan the page, taking in every word.
"Uh, you really don't need to...read...any...of that." he protested, but it was no use. He could tell by her expression that it was too late.
"You got a full scholarship to WestPoint?" Freddie flinched at the tone in her voice.
"Maybe?"
"Maybe? Because it says here that you did," she said. Her tone was even, but Freddie could sense the feelings underneath as she waved the open letter in his face.
"Look, I'm sorry. I was going to tell you guys eventually, but, I don't know. I guess I chickened out." Wow. Lame excuse.
"Future WestPoint graduate and Army Officer Benson was chicken?" Sam smirked, and Freddie relaxed, knowing that she wasn't really mad, just shocked.
"Shut up, Puckett. I honestly was going to tell you, but it's kind of a big deal sort of thing. I just was waiting for the right time. And hoping something like this wouldn't happen." he added, gesturing to the open letter in her hand. She shrugged and sat down at his desk, turning the chair to face him.
"That's okay. So, do you mind if I ask why?" She didn't need to clarify. The question was obvious to both teens. The elephant in the room just waiting to be identified, and really, it was the elephant in their relationship. The subject that was such a huge part of both of their lives, but was denied acknowledgment up until this moment. Freddie sighed and sat down on his bed.
"My dad." he explained. And that was all she really needed. But she decided to jump at this rare opportunity and push him a little farther.
"Your dad...was a...?"
"Yeah. He was a Lieutenant. Died when I was five. Not even in combat. In a freak training accident. Something went wrong when he was teaching how to disable a BLU-3 bomb. He was able to get everyone out of the building, but he died in the initial explosion when he went back to try and disable it again." he explained, handing her one of the photo albums from the box.
"Oh god. That's horrible. Like, genuinely horrible, Freddie. I'm so sorry." Freddie looked up from his feet and met her eyes, sensing something that hadn't been there before. Some sort of connection. And he believed her. She was sorry. Sam. Sam was sorry. And that meant everything in the world to him. He tried to hide his smile and brushed it off like it was no big deal.
"That's okay. I've had over a decade's time to get over it and move on." he sighed, pulling his legs up onto the bed and curling them under him.
"So you're joining because your dad was one?" she asked, slowly turning the stiff pages of the photo album, gazing in amazement at every family photo. The man in the pictures looked a lot like Freddie. They had the same eyes. The eyes she loved. They made her melt.
"Well, sort of. Yeah." Freddie nodded, failing to answer her completely.
"What else is there?" Sam asked, looking up from the photo of Freddie sitting on his dad's shoulders and holding an American flag, much like the one folded on his pillow. Freddie's eyes seemed to darken and he looked down.
"Can I trust you?" Freddie asked, catching her by surprise. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he knew right away. He could trust her. He could always trust her. Sam had always been there for him, despite the mandatory abuse that came with it. She was his best friend.
"Of course."
"Ever since I was seven, I've had this overwhelming pull towards death. Everything about death fascinated me. I was never really scared of death. Or killing. Myself included. Can you imagine? I was seven years old and I was willing to kill myself just because I was curious. I've just kind of lived with this fascination, hiding it usually, ever since. But I figure it would be more useful for me to go into the military and die fighting for something worth while as opposed to staying here and committing suicide for the sheer sake of committing suicide."
"That's...really creepy. But it actually makes sense. I guess it's a more productive use of your...life."
"That's one way of looking at it. Or you could argue that I'm insane and really should be locked up instead of put on the front lines. They don't need a suicidal army officer."
"Freddie, your not insane. Maybe your just seeing the logic of life that everyone else is missing. Maybe they do need you. I know it seems weird, but it makes you braver. You're willing to sacrifice more. Putting it all on the line isn't a big deal for you. It's not...well...I guess it's a gift. You're not suicidal. You're courageous. The army would be the ones insane for not wanting you. I mean, obviously they see something great in you. They gave you a full scholarship."
"Yeah. Maybe. Thanks, Sam. You're a great friend, you know? You may try not to act like one all the time, but I can tell that you care."
"Whatever. Hey, no matter what you decide to do, just know that I support your decision, okay? You've got me on your side."
"Let's see if I can get the whole nation on my side."
"Now that, would be a very off-balanced nation."
In loving memory of Robert Askey and everyone else who gave their life fighting for our safety and the safety of others, whether they died in combat, or in the years that followed their return home. May they live on with us forever in our hearts, and know, wherever they may be right now, overseas, underseas, training, or elsewhere, we support them 100% and they have our prayers.
Stay strong, boys! We miss you!
Daniel: Kathy and I really miss you! Take care! We love you :)