Chapter 1: Sam and DJ and Larry

The sun was hidden by dark and threatening gray clouds; thunder rumbled not too far off in the distance; the birds were all hiding in the trees protecting their young from the gathering winds; a storm was clearly coming and coming soon. Yet during all of this, Sam Bigby (long distant cousin of a certain Ned Bigby; they didn't even know each other existed at the moment, however) was ever cheerful. It was the first day of school! Bounding with limitless 11-year-old enthusiasm, he rummaged around his extremely mess room (reminiscent of a pigsty) looking for his clothes, shoes, backpack, and of course, his Declassified School Survival Guide.

The Guide was not exactly an idea of his – his father (James) and mother (Marilyn) had said that it was an ancient family tradition to create a Guide to help survive school. They had said that it was something that went back to ancient times, even supposedly to the time when the idea of school was first invented.

As soon as Sam finished collecting all of his necessary materials for his first day at Middle School, he ran out of his room and banged on the door across from him. The occupant inside was still asleep – and if that person didn't wake up in the next couple minutes they were going to be late for the bus.

"Yo, DJ! You awake yet?!" Sam's untidy black hair swept across his forehead, and he impatiently brushed it aside. His clear blue eyes gazed at the door furiously, as though they could burn a hole right through it if he willed it. For an eleven-year-old, Sam was actually rather short for his age. It was something he was constantly picked on for – but Sam wasn't a person easily troubled by petty insults.

He banged on the door again. "DJ! We're – going – to – be – late – for – school!"

A young female voice shouted back through the door. "Door's unlocked, stupid."

Oh. Smiling slightly, Sam opened the door to reveal the slight figure of his best friend DJ getting ready for school. DJ – short for Danielle Jennifer – was drying off her newly wet reddish gold hair. Upon seeing Sam enter, her emerald green eyes flared up instantly. Sam stopped dead in his tracks. He was entering a no-man's land. Literally.

"What do you think you're doing, Sam Bigby?" Her voice had gone soft.

"You said the door was unlocked."

"It – didn't – mean – that – you – could – come – in – asshole!" She threw her towel at him, and Sam found himself being pushed roughly out of the room.

"Ow – ow – DJ – it was an accident – OW!"

"Out, out, out!"

And he was out. The door slammed behind him, and Sam took the towel off and discarded it aside. Sighing (but still smiling) he ran a hand through his untidy black hair and set down the stairs to have his breakfast. He would wait for DJ there.

DJ finished drying her hair, and proceeded to put together the needed things for middle school. All summer long, she had been waiting for this day. All summer long. For an eleven-year-old girl that seemed like practically forever. To prove herself at her new middle school. Middle School – she was, admittedly, nervous.

Her nervousness was making her feel queasy – so she did what she typically did whenever she was anxious about something. She walked around to her bed and picked up a picture showing three people.

Her parents holding her as a baby. DJ's dad, smiling and awkward with his dark brown hair (DJ had retained her mothers looks, but she had acquired her fathers eyes) and her mom, with her reddish gold hair and big brown eyes. Both of them immeasurably happy-looking holding their newborn daughter. DJ smiled at the picture – a moment, forever frozen in time. She missed her parents a lot – it had been eleven years since she had last seen or heard from them. They had gone out to work one day, and they just never came back to pick her up. The Bigbys had been entrusted with her care in the event of anything happening to them, and her life had been with them for the past eleven years.

Her parents would be proud of DJ, if they could see how far she had come. The picture calmed her nerves, and with renewed resolve she picked up her things and headed out the door with her head held high. No matter what lay ahead, she had her best friend Sam to back her up. Sam never backed out on his friends, no matter what.

DJ's POV

Sam – my best friend of 11 years. Which is pretty much all of my life, so far. How can I explain Sam? Well for one, he's about medium height and medium build with really dark hair and clear blue eyes. He is always smiling (something I personally find both charming and irritating at the same time) and he has a great sense of humor. In the area of intelligence, well . . . he's about a three watt, I'd say. He's not the brightest. But I get the feeling that he's smarter than he lets on; he just needs the motivation to apply himself.

He's sweet, funny, and loyal to his friends, cheerful – basically Sam's the kind of guy any girl would want to meet. He's a keeper; honestly I think any girl would be blessed to know him. I know I am.

Don't misunderstand me, though. Sam's like a brother to me – I wouldn't consider dating him for a second. It wouldn't feel right. I've known him my whole life; I live with him; I eat his food; I sleep in his house 24/7. It would be too awkward. So, sorry no. Besides, despite all the nice things I've said about him, he's not my type. Not now, not ever.

Sam crunched on his cereal, casually checking his Mickey Mouse glow-in-the-dark watch every now and then. He tried to disguise his rather obvious anxiety, but if DJ didn't come out soon, then he would have no choice but to walk with her in the pouring rain to school. Being late on a first day to a new school never made a good first impression, but Sam would never consider ditching DJ to walk alone in the rain. She was his best friend. Tip #1: Never ditch your friends no matter what.

Sam's POV

DJ – where do I begin? Well, I guess it all started when her parents just disappeared. Poof, just like that. They were gone. The police searched and searched for weeks, but no traces of them were ever found. I can't really say I miss them – I was only one years old. So was DJ. In their will, DJ was to be entrusted to my family. And the rest, as they say, is history. She's been living with us for all of her eleven years.

DJ is short for Danielle Jennifer and her last name was Ryan. Danielle Jennifer Ryan. Sheesh, she was made fun of during her early preschool years because of her name. She had three first names! I didn't find it funny, though. So in desperation, I tried to rename her. But I came across several problems:

There were like 5 Danielle's in the entire class.

There were even more Jennifer's in the class.

Don't even get me started on Ryan. All of them were boys. DJ would never have forgiven me.

It was then, when all hoped seemed lost, that I had a typical Sam Bigby brainwave! Danielle Jennifer – DJ! And so she was rechristened; the nickname stuck. She liked it, I liked it, and the entire class liked it. They even became jealous of it. Ha! Success!

DJ isn't what you'd call your normal girl – she's what scientists refer to as the "Tomboy". You know that girl that acts a lot like a boy? Yeah, that pretty much sums her up. Her hair seems to match her personality – fiery, rebellious, and free. She has shiny golden red hair (auburn, some would say) and the coolest emerald green eyes. Her smile is infectious – it's like she lights up the whole room with it.

Don't even think about dating her though: I may not be her brother, but that doesn't mean I won't be keeping my eye out for her. She's gotten into her fair share of trouble before, and it was through my divine intervention that she got out without a hitch. Lucky for her, she has me. I consider her family, and like a sister. I may be small and diminutive, but yeah –

Mess with her and I'll kick your ass.

Sam was broken out of his musings by the sound of thunder booming outside. He glanced out the window, and saw that it was raining extremely hard. The rain literally threw itself against the window. His parents were undisturbed, however. Sam snorted; he knew that his parents had slept through hurricanes before. Mere rain would not bother them.

"DJ had better hurry up, or else she'll be late" his dad said behind his newspaper. Sam's dad was a doctor – cheerful, good humored, and kind. Sam had inherited his looks from his father. His patients knew him well and respected him. James Bigby was well respected within the community.

"Don't worry, James, she'll make it. DJ never fools around." Sam's mother's reassuring voice rang softly through the quiet atmosphere of the kitchen. Marilyn Bigby was by no means no less famous than her husband – she was a nurse, and worked with her husband. She was a nurse by choice, though – she had been offered the position of an official doctor more than once. She had all the qualifications; she had the knowledge and the tools to use it. But she had repeatedly declined, merely stating, "We already have one doctor in the family." She was modest and kind. Her brown eyes radiated warmth and sincerity at all times.

True to her word, DJ came clamoring down the stairs swearing at the top of her voice. Sam jumped up, and ran to her. "DJ – we're going to be late!"

"You don't think I know that, Sam?!" Her voice was rushed.

"Bye Mom! Bye Dad!" Sam waved at them, and sprinted through the front door into the pelting rain.

"Sam! You imbecile!" DJ swore again.

"Language, DJ." Marilyn's voice was soft, but reprimanding.

DJ blushed. She was constantly embarrassed at her potty mouth. DJ made a mental note to ask Sam for tips to help quell that bad habit. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Bigby."

Marilyn laughed a deep, rich laugh. "DJ, how many times have I asked you not to call me that. 'Mrs. Bigby' makes me sound old. Marilyn, Mom, Mommy, or even Momma will do." Her voice was amused. DJ could never shake the habit of calling her Mrs. Bigby.

"Sorry, Mrs. Bigby – I mean, Marilyn." She smiled nervously – calling Sam's mom by her front name felt odd.

James called out from behind his newspaper. "Did Sam just leave?"

"Yes."

He sighed. "He forgot the umbrella, huh?"

"Yup."

"Do you mind giving it to him on your way out, DJ?" He held out a black umbrella for her to hold.

"Oh, of course." She took it, grabbed a piece of toast from Sam's plate, and sprinted out toward Sam – who, she noticed, was starting to realize just how hard it was really raining. "Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Bigby!" DJ waved one last time then disappeared after Sam.

Sam's parents stood on the front porch observing the two children run towards the bus stop. They watched with amusement as DJ kicked Sam in the shins, and called him an idiot repeatedly over and over again (using different words and names to great effect). Then she forcefully handed him the umbrella, and commanded him to hold it for her. Sam obliged.

"You think she knows?" Marilyn asked her husband, as soon as the children turned the corner.

"No."

"What about Sam?"

"The same."

Marilyn sighed. "James, you really need to tell Sam about this. DJ, too. They are HER parents after all."

"She is too young. The time will come when they are ready."

Marilyn Bigby stared out into the pouring rain, her mind on distant thoughts. "I hope you're right, James. I hope you're right."

"Sam! SAM!" A voice coming from his right caused Sam to turn (wincing because of his bruised shins) and he smiled at the owner of the voice. It was Larry.

Larry was an eleven-year-old African-American male; he was Sam's other best friend. Sam had known Larry since kindergarten; they had met in the girl's bathroom of all places. It was there, eluding bullies and girls alike (until DJ rescued them), that their friendship first bloomed.

Larry was an odd one – it was established from birth that he was a child prodigy. Extremely smart in all subjects, it was he that had helped Sam get out of grade school with straight A's. Sam had been forever in his debt since then.

Another thing about Larry: Larry wasn't his real name. His real name is from an ancient language his ancestors once used, and neither Sam or the rest of the world could figure out how to pronounce it correctly (Larry or his parents didn't even know either; this contributed to his lack of friends because when asked what his name was, he couldn't respond – how Larry had managed to get through life with that burden is unknown). So Sam, when he met him in the stall in the girl's bathroom cowering with fear, just called him Larry – simply because he looked like a Larry. The name stuck. He was Larry, and Larry owed his newly found name to Sam.

"Hey, Larry", DJ called out. She waved back at him.

"What's with the weird vest?" Sam was referring to the bright orange vest Larry was wearing.

"Oh, this? This, my friends, is the latest in Larry technology! Seeing as though we're heading into a new school, I figured that I could use the protection. This vest is equipped with any non-lethal weapon ever invented. All I have to do is press a concealed button hidden underneath the vest and it activates the corresponding weapon. Pretty neat, huh?" Larry was popping with his enthusiasm.

DJ, being the more logical one out of the group, voiced her opinion. "Sounds like another BIG success, Larry. Just like your instant nose cleaner machine. You remember how THAT went?"

Larry winced. "No."

She rolled her eyes. "Let me refresh your memory, then. The machine had a glitch; it overheated and became stuck inside your nostrils. When they took you to the hospital and examined you, they discovered that it had fused to your nose hairs when it overheated. I understand that the surgery to remove the machine was excruciatingly painful, as when they pulled it out, they pulled out your nose hairs as well. You had to stay indoors in your room for half the summer because your nose hairs had to grow back. Does that ring any bells for you?"

"You didn't have to put it so straightforward", Larry said sullenly.

"I don't mean you any disrespect, Larry, but your inventions have a nasty tendency to backfire on you. I'm just trying to protect you from your creations."

Sam, however, complimented Larry on his ingenuity. "I think it's a great idea, Larry."

Larry brightened at this. "Thanks, Sam."

"No problem."

The bus finally pulled up, and the wet children immediately began to rush inside the dry bus. The driver – a friendly bearded man named Mr. Gus, told them not to hurry and to take their seats immediately and in an orderly fashion. Sam and Larry sat in a seat diagonal to the bus driver, while DJ took an empty one behind him. Sam was still complimenting Larry on the vest.

"It looks great, Larry, really great. The only thing wrong with it, is the color. Why orange? I'd think you'd want to make it more subtle; it looks like a giant warning light."

"That's exactly my point! I want people to stay away from me – to warn them, you know?"

"Don't you want to make friends at middle school? This vest doesn't exactly encourage friendship." Tip #2: If you want to make new friends at school, dress to impress. Be yourself, relax, and remember to smile!

Larry looked unsure. "I suppose . . . but I'd rather take that chance then be hurt by the bullies."

The bus began to move towards its destination. Sam didn't live far from the Middle School, so they would arrive in a matter of minutes. The bus was rather silent – people were silent, either trying to catch a last minute snooze or whispering to their friends about who did what over the summer.

Sam fidgeted anxiously in his seat. Bullies – nature's little joke. How could people with so small a brain, be so large in size?! It just didn't seem right. Sam didn't have any tips, unfortunately, to deal with bullies. He was woefully inadequate in that area. DJ was no miracle worker either – her tactics in dealing with them usually involved her fists and any other manner of weapon she could find. Sam was not a violent person; he preferred to use the power of words to get out of trouble.

He hadn't been in a fight since that one time . . . .

(Blood, blood, oh my God, it's everywhere, mommy, daddy, what's wrong with him, I'm sorry, I'm SORRY!)

Sam broke out of the memory. What had he just been thinking about? Oh, yeah, Larry's vest. It was so cool!

"Hey, Larry, what does this button do?" Sam pressed a section of the vest. Larry jolted and tried to stop him –

It was too late. A fine stream of mist sprayed out of somewhere on the vest, and proceeded to hit the bus driver's face. He jerked and began to scream.

"Sam, NO!" Larry was panicking.

"What was that?!" DJ shouted. The bus driver's hands had left the wheel and were on his face. He was trying to rub something out of his eyes. The bus began to swerve dangerously back and forth, its skidding tires trying desperately to stay on track on the slippery ground.

Lightning flashed somewhere, and thunder roared overhead. Before anyone knew it, Mr. Gus had collapsed onto the floor of the bus. The bus veered sharply, and the children screamed.

"Pepper spray, it was pepper spray!" Larry shouted.

Sam flew out his seat and grabbed Mr. Gus. "Mr. Gus, Mr. Gus, you need to get up! Up!" Mr. Gus mumbled something unintelligible. "What?"

"Allergic . . . pepper spray." He gasped and fell unconscious.

DJ had left her seat as well; she was grappling with the out-of-control steering wheel of the out-of-control bus. It was no videogame; this was life or death.

"What's wrong with him?!" she shouted, straining with the wheel. It was constantly changing directions due to the slipperiness of the road underneath them, and an eleven-year-old girl (no matter how strong) could only do so much.

"I think it's the pepper spray! He said he's allergic to it!"

There was a choking sound from the back of the bus; a nasty splattering sound; and someone groaned. A child from behind them had vomited after becoming car sick. The smell of half-digested food came wafting from the back of the bus towards the front. Sam crinkled up his nose at the smell, and tried not to vomit himself.

"Who the hell is allergic to pepper spray?!"

"Apparently, Mr. Gus is!"

"Well don't just sit there doing nothing; help me out here!"

Sam snapped out of his self-induced apathy and stumbled his way over to the struggling DJ. "What do you need?"

DJ laid out her plan; she would handle the steering wheel; Sam would handle the gas and the brakes; Larry would change the stick shift. They would have to work as a team to get out of this one.

When all three were in place, DJ began to bark commands.

"Sam, the brakes!"

"Larry, second shift!"

"Sam, press on it!"

"Larry, third gear!"

"I said third gear, Larry, not fifth!"

"Still on third gear, Larry!"

"Ease up on the gas, Sam!"

"I don't care if she puked on your shoe, Larry, just shift the stupid gear!"

The bus veered and turned; it swerved and threatened to hit anything even remotely in its way – but through the team effort of the three eleven-year-olds they managed to keep the bus (and any pedestrians) safe.

Mr. Gus, during the chaos, somehow managed to wake up. "What – what's happening?"

Sam noticed the now awake bus driver. "Mr. Gus, you're okay!"

"What happened?"

"Well, Larry – yes, Larry, this is partially your fault, don't look at me like that – made a security vest, and I accidentally pressed a button, and it released some pepper spray, and I guess it hit you on the face, and then you fell down, and then that guy over there puked out his guts on the bus floor (sorry about that – he had a big breakfast, I guess) –"

"SAM, GET TO THE POINT!" DJ shouted.

"Oh, right. Mr. Gus, we need you to drive the bus, now, please!"

Mr. Gus shakily stood up, moved past the three eleven year olds and began to wrestle the controls of the bus. It was now a battle of wills between the lion and the lion tamer (well, not really).

For a terrifying couple seconds it looked like Mr. Gus was losing the battle. Then he pressed on the gas pedal, shifted to next gear, and turned the wheel – the bus was now under control once more. Sam, DJ, Larry, and the rest of the occupants within the bus let out a collective sigh (except for the poor guy who vomited, fearing that if he opened his mouth again he would repeat the action once more).

Several minutes later, Sam checked his Mickey Mouse glow-in-the-dark watch and said weakly, "Hey, look on the bright side – we're going to be early."

DJ snorted. Typical Sam, trying to make the best of things but injecting some of his own wacky humor into the situation. It was a trait of his she loved – Sam always found the silver lining in any situation. He never failed.

"Going to be early? More like we're lucky to be ALIVE." DJ retorted.

"Yeah, that too."

DJ turned to Larry. "Well, Larry? Have you learned your lesson?" Her emerald green eyes flashed with a burning anger. She was definitely mad at him.

"Yeah, I have! This thing WORKS!" Larry punched the air with his fist in triumph. "Oh, yeah!"

"You're dead as soon as I step foot off this freaking bus, Larry."

Larry gulped and instinctively fingered his orange security vest. Mr. Gus had overheard their interesting conversation and said amusingly, "No fighting, children."

"No, of course not, Mr. Gus." She cracked her knuckles rather loudly, however, to make her point. Larry seemed to shrink into his vest with each crack.

They had almost arrived at their new school. Any second now . . .

Three . . .

Two . . .

One . . .

The doors flew open, and Larry (with amazing speed) threw himself out. DJ was hot on his heels. "GET BACK HERE, LARRY!"

Larry was fast when he wanted to be, but he couldn't match DJ's natural born speed. Within seconds he was down, and the gruesome spectacle began. His girly screams could be heard across the school. Sam stepped out and thanked Mr. Gus for the, uh, interesting bus ride.

"No problem, Sam. Just to tell your friend, Larry, that I forgive him." His demeanor turned dark. "But if he pulls another stupid stunt like that, he's going to meet the front fender of my bus at 50 mph."

Sam laughed – then saw the expression on Mr. Gus's face. "Ah, you're serious."

"No, of course not! My parole officer would kill me!" Bawling with laughter, the doors of the bus closed, and Mr. Gus and his bus left leaving behind only the acrid smell of CO2.

Sam stared out after the bus. After a while the bell rang signaling the beginning of middle school. Shaking his head, he headed toward his two waiting friends (DJ was throttling Larry but the scruff of his vest, actually – several boys had tried to save Larry, only to find themselves kneed in the – well, you know). So far, the day had proved eventful and interesting. But Sam just wanted to have a normal school day – the bus was crazy enough as it was. He wrote down a quick tip:

Tip #3: The bus is a great place to do homework, catch up on some sleep, and study. It's also a great place where you can just kick back and relax with your friends before and after school. But be nice to the bus driver – he/she IS the one in control of the bus. Don't goof off too much, and remember safety ALWAYS comes first.

All right, his Guide was coming along nicely. The day was turning out to be pretty good after all.

The rain began to pour down even harder, and thunder roared dangerously over head. People began to flock inside the school for cover. Lightning flashed once more and Sam, DJ, and Larry ran inside with the crowd. Drying off their clothes in the hallway next to their new lockers, Sam saw the one thing that could ruin his first day at Middle School.

Bullies. His mouth curled up in disgust. No! He would no longer be afraid of them. They would not ruin his and his friends first day at school! Sam puffed up his chest and stalked toward them –

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Bigby." Jerk stared down at him. That was his name – Bigg Jerk (Author's Note: Lame, I know. But it gets the point across.). His pals next to him - Chum and Buddy – sniggered as though that were the greatest joke in the world.

"Hello, Jerk."

"Your shoes are untied."

Sam looked down – and instantly regretted it. Jerk's push came out of nowhere, and Sam found himself sliding across the wet floor on his back. Sniggering Jerk and his companions jeered at Sam. "Way to go, Bigby! Maybe you should call your girlfriend to help you up – and DJ too!" They bawled with hysterical laughter. Larry shrunk into his vest trying to make himself seem smaller and unnoticeable, but DJ made a move towards Jerk and he and his friends scampered off. They were terrified of her.

"You okay, Sam?" DJ asked.

"I'm fine, DJ, thanks." He got up, and shook his head. "Those three have always ruined my first day at school! But not this time! NOT THIS TIME!" Laughing maniacally he ran off, plans of revenge already forming in his head.

DJ shook her sopping wet head. "I've got a bad feeling he's off to do something stupid."

"He won't hurt them; but I think he's going to get revenge on them another way." Larry observed this with the eye of an experienced best friend.

"Better go after him, you think?" DJ asked.

"To make sure he doesn't get hurt?"

"Yeah."

"Sure. What are best friends for?"

The two friends ran after Sam, slipping and sliding through the wet floors. Many misadventures waited for them in this Middle School of dreams and hopes. Their first day at middle school was just beginning.

Welcome to James K. Polk Middle School.

I, uh, apologize for my abrupt ending with my previous story Ned's Declassified SSG: Sins of the Past. I had, unfortunately, gone crazy with the plot and accidentally created several different ways for it to end. Faced with this story gone terribly mad, I had no choice but to end it – for now. I hope you all will understand. I needed to take a break from writing about Ned and Moze for once – so I decided to do this! I've actually wanted to write this story for a long time now (since I started, actually). I hope you all like Sam, DJ, and Larry – they're my new Ned, Moze, and Cookie. You probably see some similarities and differences. And if you aren't sure if you like them, well don't worry! I'm just getting started. So, yeah, read and review and see if you like them. I hope you do.

BlueRoyKaz