July 17th 2003

Sam Evans likes to go to the playground to, well, play. He had always thought 'playground' was a very fitting name for it. There was a playground a couple blocks down the street and just around the corner from his house. It was by far Sam's favorite playground. The twisted slide was like a big purple snake, and the building was liked like a pirate ship made from colorful metal poles. Pirates had been Sam's favorite game to play, but there was no one to play with, ever. He was content, though, being the captain of the S.S. play ship with invisible—not made up or fake—pirates to swab the decks.

Today was like every other day. The hollowing wind was the only thing making a sound alongside the occasional chirp of an optimistic bird. Smiling brightly down on the open area was the sun. Trees, Sam thought they looked like Christmas trees, trapped the whole playground except for the one side. Being the genius that he was, Sam always went to the playground using that side. The grass, though, that the playground sat upon wasn't really that green. It looked like all brown and shriveled. The eight year old boy ran around; his blonde hair flashing a smile back at the sun. His smile broadened to the size of the Atlantic Ocean, as he commanded pirates to fire the canons, hoist the sail and find the missing treas-arrr.

It had started out like any other day, but then it wasn't like any other day. A boy, a very tiny boy Sam thought, scuffed his feet along the grass until he reached the swing set. The boy's brown hair was tangled much like vines in a wild jungle. Sam smile was the mass of the world by now, for finally he could have a non-invisible person scrub his deck. Sam was off the playground as if it burned him.

"Hello, I'm Sam the captain of the S.S. play ship would you like to come abroad?"

The little boy kept his eyes trained on the grass below, as he mumbled, "Are you asking me to play with you?"

The big smile on Sam's face was not-so big now, but it was still stapled to his face. "Why of course mate!" Sam had replied.

"No one ever wants to play with me."

"Not even your friends?" Now Sam was confused. Everyone has friends, right? Just like he was friends with Noah Puckerman, Mike Chang and, oh Sam always forgets his name, Finn Hudson.

"I don't have any friends. My family just moved here yesterday."

If Sam had a lightbulb in his head, it would have glowed so blindingly bright. Sam exclaimed, "That's not true! You have one friend."

"Who?" his voice soft.

"Me, silly!"

The curly haired boy looked up, and his eyes expanded like they were being pumped with air. Hazel eyes was the only thing that flooded Sam's vision, well, that and the black and blue surrounding it. Sam's jaw had hit the grass, and he mirrored the boy's blown-up eyes. "Wow, you look like a puppy," his whisper dripped with awe.

"I-Is that a good thing?" the other boy stammered, as his eyes flew back to the ground.

"Yeah, it's, like, a really, really awesome thing."

"Oh okay." The boy looked up. "Sorry, I forgot my manners, my name is Blaine Anderson by the way."

Shaking the outstretched hand, Sam crunched his eyebrows together in confusion, "Why do you need manners?"

"I don't really know. My father's always telling me to have them."

"So…" Sam drew out. "Did you want to play?"

"You're my friend right?" Sam bobbed his head vigorously nearly giving himself whip lash. "Well then I'd love to play with you, friend Sam. I do have a request."

Sam's previously smile had returned to greet them. "What?"

"Can we play superheroes instead?" Sam smiled so hard it could have hurt. What a smart idea. Why hadn't Sam though of that? He loved reading comic books. He loved watching superhero movies. He loved watching superhero television shows as well. They could play X-men, but Sam would have to be-

"Can I be Wolverine?" Blaine asked timid like a bunny chatting up a wolf. Sam guessed he could settle with being cyclops today. Once Blaine had stood up, he was being yanked into an embrace by Sam's tiny arms.

"Why are you hugging me?"

"I don't know… to, like, prove that we are friends. It sort of like a shake, but more cushiony."

"My father prefers to shake my hand over hugging."

They played until the sun's smile had disappeared behind the horizon, and stars blinked at them. Sam's mother came around eventually to snatch, and drag him back to the house for supper. Blaine scuffed his way back to his own house with his first smile in a long time.

When Sam had reached his house, his mouth moved endlessly. His babblings of Blaine never stopped. He loves superheroes just as much as me. He talks so—what's the word—professionally. He looks like a little puppy. I want to play with him right now! I could play with him forever.

August 7th 2003

After many long days spent at the park chasing away invisible villains, Sam had invited Blaine over to play at his house. Today had been the second time visiting it, and they were going to binge watch Disney movies because, come on, you could never go wrong with Disney.

If it were possible, Blaine would have married the Evans house, for he had fallen in love with it. The nearly impossible to find empty spaces, the yelling that was considered a hushed conversation, the one level, the way every object seemed to smile immensely were just a few reasons why the Evans house hold was so bravura. Sam's mom, who had a massive swell on her stomach, always greeted Blaine by wrapping him up in her arms as if he were a present. Her eyes incessantly glittered looking like the ocean in sunlight.

Sam's family all had highly similar features. Same bleached yellow hair. Same nose. Same slightly above average height. There were a few exceptions. For example, Sam's dad, Johnathon Evans, teeth had been more like a horse than the rest of the family. Also, Sam's little two year old sister, Stacey, had a more green like sea splashing in her eyes.

Aladdin was dancing and singing his way around guards with a bread wrapped up in his fist when Blaine said, "I want to marry Aladdin."

That caused everyone in the room to gaze at him, intently, as they would to a zoo animal.

Sam, eyebrows crunched, asked, "Why? Shouldn't you want to marry Jasmine? I want to marry Jasmine."

"Jasmine isn't as beautiful as Aladdin in my personal opinion."

"But he's a dude."

Shifting her weight off the coach a little, Sam's mother chimed, "Boys can like boy and girls can like girls it just doesn't happen very frequently. It's also not really accepted in most places."

Sam crunched his eyebrows more so that they were nearly touching each other, and asked, "What does frequently mean?"

"It means to happen a lot." Blaine explained. "I think my dad told me about boys liking boys he said they were called fags or faggots; I can't remember."

Blaine hadn't noticed the tiny suck in of air from the women perched next to him, for all his attention was on the handsome boy on the screen.

The not-really-a-marathon had lasted for one and half movies. Half way through the Lion King, Sam leg bounced seizing fast. Fingers danced all over each other. He was ready to play.

"Hey, want to go outside? We can play with that football Finn got me."

"Yeah, of course."

Buried underneath a layer of crusted dirt, a football was being thrown between the two boys incessantly. The summer sun beating down heat that sweltered the skin of the youth. Sweat left trails behind them, as they trickle down the foreheads of the boys.

"Sam! My hair's going to be a mess."

"Mine's always a mess." Sam grumbled chasing after a pass that landed much shorter than it should have been thrown.

"You haven't seen my hair a mess though." Blaine whined.

"I haven't?"

"Yeah, I always put in gel."

"What the heck is gel?"

Blaine's mom likes to poke fun at him for wanting to have hair gel be by his side like it's his conjoined twin, or the fact he knows which brand is the best. Blaine never leaves the house without at least the tiniest dollop of gel mixed into his hair. Blaine knew it was an obsession. Blaine knows why he does it. Blaine's not going to tell Sam, though, that people would always put gum in his hair, or tug at it when it wasn't in gel. Blaine just answers Sam's question, "It's like liquid glue that you put in your hair to tame it."

"Oh," Sam replied after cradling the football in his hands.

Two hours later Sam noticed the little curls escaping the prison of this 'hair gel' Blaine uses. He thought it was cute, and it made him look more like a puppy. Shrugging his shoulders after Sam told him this, Blaine went home.

August 16th 2003

Sam doesn't like Blaine's parents. He doesn't like how they're always being unpleasant (A word he learned from Blaine.) towards his friend.

Sit straighter.

Chew with your mouth closed.

Mind your manners.

Blaine, use your head and say please.

Offer your friend something to drink.

We raised you better.

Sam was very confused. Sam was very, very confused. Were his parent's way too nice, and all the other parents were this mean? Sam shakes his head, and stabs his forked into this fancy meat called steak. He watches his sink deep into the meat like a boot slipping into thick mud. This meat kind of had a funny taste. It was burnt, but a good burning taste with lots of spices Sam wouldn't be able to say the name of.

"Sam likes watching Disney too. We had a marathon last time we went to his house." Blaine chirped from the chair beside him.

A bright smile softened Blaine's mom's tight face, as she said, "Oh, that's nice dear."

Sam decided that he liked Blaine's mom. She was nice. Blaine's dad, though-

"Blaine, I don't think that's appropriate for people your age. You shouldn't be watching things that are so girly."

"I think Disney is not girly at all. When Aladdin goes into the cave, it takes guts, and that's very manly." Sam said oozing with confidence. His chest was puffed out a little more than usually.

The boys had been excused from the dinner table which Sam didn't understand why he had to be excused. They never did that at his house. The Andersons residence went on for miles. Just when you thought it was the end of a hallway you realized it turns left or right into another one. Four levels to house were all filled with open spaces, and pottery that twinkled while in the presence of a light.

"What would you like to do?" Blaine asked walking up behind Sam. Dropped on the floor was Sam's tiny jaw, as he stared at the vast painted staring at him back. The painting had been draped gripping onto the wall at the end of a hallway for dear life. In the painting, a barn had been ripped to shreds, stars light up a dark night and trees were snapped in half. Cattle were meandering all over the place looking spooked.

With a voice dripping of complete awe, Sam asked, "Who painted this?"

"My 17 year old sister, Raye." Blaine answered while stepping beside Sam.

"You have a sister?"

"And a brother who is 15 named Cooper."

"Oh."

They had ended going outside to throw around a football. A tall ghost with the same tamed curls—only with white tips—as Blaine, and the same honey orbs as eyes stood in the window smiling looking over the boys with pride. Matthew Anderson was sure his son was going to grow up to be a star quarterback with a beautiful girlfriend, and the best of friends. He was going to be just like Cooper except the silly idea that acting could be a career.

September 5 2003

The school bell roared, and Kids scrambled like mice into their classrooms. Blaine was a soldier walking into room 102. His head down, legs straight, hands balled up tighter than a vice and eyes trained on the floor avoiding all the people in the room. He doesn't like school, well, the people in school. All the teachers call him smart, and all the kids call him a teacher's pet.

"Blaine!" A very familiar voice yelled. Blaine's ear perked up instantly, and he turned around.

"Sam!" He exclaimed while becoming lost in the arms of his friend.

"How cool! We're going to be in the same class." Sam smiled so hard it had to have hurt. "And it's a good thing too because Finn and Puck are in the other grade three class."

"Who are they?" Blaine asked.

"Oh! My other good friends. Just not as good of a friend as you." A warmth leaked through Blaine's body. He had never been anyone's friend none the less someone's good friend.

Hours of the day were filled with lectures of classroom expectations that numbed many of the kid's minds. No lesson to be seen, and no assignments to be colored. Blaine, alongside many of the kids he was sure, felt ready for a nap after such a dull day. He was walking out the entrance of the school in with Sam, and the latter asked, "Want to go to the playground?"

That was a logical idea Blaine had been thinking about. He and Sam should really spend their free hours at said playground before it decides to hide under a layer of snow.

"Yeah, sure, I can get my sister to drive us there. She's picking me up today,"

"Why not your Parents?" Blaine had just shrugged. "Okay, I just got to tell me mom… I'll meet you right here soon."

Sam had busted his way over to his parents to get the okay. Once he did, Sam hopped into Blaine's sister's car. It was his first time meeting his sister, and he thought she was gorgeous. Specks of green floated atop the honey colour in her eyes, and tanned hair fell so they were tickling her shoulders. Her ruby lips were swollen.

"Hello Sam! Blainey has told me everything about you! I feel like I know you even though I've never met you before."

"Raye." Blaine scoffed from behind his sister in the car.

"I'm just teasing you little bro, so Sam, my dude, I have to ask you one question before I can decide if were friends or not."

"Okay." He drew out the word.

"What's your favorite Disney movie?"

He laughed, "Aladdin, duh."

Raye's smile made a thousand angel die of envy. Her pearls were bleached a perfect white, and her face light up. "You pass the test my good man."

"Sweet," Sam replied catching the contagious smile.

September 12th 2003

"Okay, I get to be wolverine this time."

"No, I'm always wolverine."

Sam frowned, and replied, "That should mean I get to be him once… come on Blaine!"

"I just," A sigh tricked out of Blaine's lips. "I feel like I'm on the same spiritual level as him."

"Blaine! You need to stop using such big words and stuff. I don't understand what language you speak most of the time."

"It's English, Sam, English."

"Wait… English, that's what I speak, right?"

Blaine smacked his forehead with his hand making a violent skin slap sound echo in the silence of the playground. "Yes, yes it's the language we speak."

"Sorry, sorry."

Blaine shuffled in the yellow grass, and sunk down onto the swing set, and Sam followed his lead. "Here I have a compromise-"

"What's a compromise?" Sam cut him off with an eyebrow arched much higher than the other. "You know I could tickle you to get my way."

"You're a meanie." Blaine said.

Sam stood up, and Blaine was off of the swing set running as if a pack of wolves were chasing him with drool spilled over their lips. Sam trailed after him flinging himself at Blaine. When he was close enough, Sam captured Blaine's hips with his arms, and his fingers danced everywhere making Blaine laugh, hard. Blaine's breathe sputtered and demands of stopping trickled out of his mouth. The moment Blaine said he could be wolverine, Sam stood up, and took a bow in victory.

"You're a meanie." Blaine said.

"And you're cyclops."

November 18th 2003

The crisp wind's never ending howl, and the snow falling out of the clouds has let the walls of their houses protect Sam and Blaine. Every day the usually pop over to Sam's house. Today, Sam had been sitting with Raye while Blaine was getting in trouble for bringing snow into the house. Deep voice of Blaine's father sounded emotionless; the tone was never changing and there was no raising nor lowering of the level of hos voice.

"Does Blaine get in trouble like that a lot?"

"Sadly."

"So that's a yes," Sam clarified. Raye bobbed her head with hesitation sitting without flinching at the slightest when her father decided to scream something that was particularly too harsh for an eight year old to hear. Sam, though, would jump every once in a while as if an electric current passed through him. They had sat in the same hallway as the painting Sam was in infatuated with.

"You painted that, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, I did."

"It's beautiful," he sighed staring at it, and he no longer flinched at the screams pouring into the hallway. They both discussed the painting; the meaning (How it was the longing feeling of domesticity which Sam had not understood.), they slightly blue tone to the colors, how you could tell it was painting, but still so vastly realistic. Sam had decided from that moment on he wanted to paint. It had sounded fun and tranquil (a word Raye had told him, and Sam was excited to tell Blaine it). Sam wanted to make big stuff like Raye did; like the one in the hallway.

December 25th 2003

Everyone around the Anderson's Christmas ripped presents to their bare skin, and mouthed lyrics to the hushed sound of various Christmas music. Blaine, though, couldn't hear the Christmas music. He sat trapped by clothed presents, and he didn't move a muscle when his mother pointed it out. His father's yells and cries of how he ruined Christmas rang in Blaine's ears, and it echoed more than the Grand Canyon could ever dream. Raffi's singing wasn't nowhere to be heard.

It hadn't occurred to Blaine that wanting to play princess with his girl cousins would ruin Christmas, or decorating a gingerbread man to be a gingerbread girl. He didn't know that singing a girls song from The Little Mermaid would as well. He didn't know he couldn't wear a pink bow, and that he should be wearing a blue or green tie. Blaine just didn't know.

Sam stood swaying like a willow in the door way of his living room all night. He'd blink and his sigh would crack the silence that hung in the air. Where the heck was Santa? You'd be logical to think he's come around soon. "It was 11:38 for good sake," Sam would mumble.

A thundering sound had awoken Sam from his slumber where he heard the cracking of sore bones after standing up off of the ground. Stacey, his now three year old sister, was shrieking bloody murder, for she had seen the presents sleeping in the lap of their Christmas tree. Sam meandered his way over there to see fewer presents than last year, and there was none addressed to his parents.

"Honey, are you sure you're okay with no presents this year. The kids had been begging me to take them shopping for you," Sam's father had said.

"The kids need the presents more than us, John." Sam's mother whispered back, as they both hit the bottom of the stairs."

"I just wished we had more money."

Later that day when the sun hung itself high in the sky, there was a rapid banging on the Evens household which cause everyone to stiffen. Without the cash in their pockets to travel, the Evens couldn't scrape out money to go back to Kentucky where the rest of their family was vacated currently. Surely nobody would be there; people were busy with their own families.

When the door opened its jaw, everyone breathed out and relaxed. It had only been a tiny boy with curly hair and a blue tie. Sam and Blaine played the rest of the evening both generally confused. While Blaine didn't know why Sam only received one gift from Santa, Sam couldn't wrap his mind around why Blain hadn't wanted to play with his family.