He wondered about Sam sometimes.

Not often, but enough. She was hard to get close to, to figure out and Freddie often felt it was pointless considering the endless insults she hurled at him day after day. He was tempted to give up on her completely, to interact only when necessary for Carly's sake but there was always that something in her eyes that kept drawing him back in. A deep, wounded look that sometimes flashed through her light blue eyes, a glimpse so fleeting it was almost impossible to catch but Freddie had seen it and now, he couldn't stop going back to find out exactly what it was that made Sam, well, Sam.

Maybe it was in his DNA. His mother's overconcerned streak. Maybe it was because his honest curiousity was the only thing that made Sam even a little bit crazy and any revenge was better than none. Maybe it was because he cared in ways he didn't want to examine too closely.

It didn't matter. It kept him there through the insults and general abuse. What didn't kill him made him strong, a Fencin' Benson to the core. He wondered if his grandfather would be proud or if he'd just laugh him out the circus tent. Probably the latter.

Friday had come just in time to save his sanity. Three major tests in as many days and Freddie would be grateful for the weekend. Maybe he could defrag his old laptop, add some more memory and turn an old piece of crap into a finely tuned, if obsolete, computer jalopy. He'd debated giving it to Sam as a birthday present but hesistated, knowing that she destroyed just about ever computer she'd ever touched. She was careless in ways that horrified him which might have made her more determined in her destructivness.

Freddie sighed. He was definitely thinking too much about Sam lately. Slinging his backpack on, he locked the door behind him surprised to see Carly in the hallway, impatiently tapping her foot.

"She's late again?" he asked.

Carly glanced at her watch with an expasperated expression. "It's getting worse. I'm going to have to talk to her."

"Doesn't her Mom drive her?"

Carly grimaced. "Yeah but there's something going on with her Mom. New boyfriend or something and she's becoming even less reliable."

"I hardly thought that was possible," Freddie replied drily. He heard the elevator ping open. It was Sam. "Speak of the Devil."

"Shut up, Benson," Sam grumbled. She looked tired beneath the hood of her sweatjacket. Her eyes were ringed with red which made Carly glance at Freddie with concern. "Sorry I'm late. Let's go. Mom's in a rush."

"Everything okay?" he asked, biting his tongue a second after the words came out.

Sam's head whipped in his direction. "Maybe you should look in the mirror and ask that question. Oh, wait, I forgot they haven't found a cure for you yet."

"Never mind," Freddie sighed. He adjusted his backpack. "Ready, Carly?"

Carly was still examining Sam. She nodded slowly. "Sure. You know, Sam, if it's a hassle for your Mom to give us a lift we can find another way to get to school."

Sam rolled her eyes. "It's fine. Come on, let's go before I get the lifetime detention award."

"You don't have that already?" Freddie quipped as they headed onto the elevator. "I'm shocked."

Sam turned to Carly as the doors closed. "How many years do you get for shoving someone down the shaft?"

XXXXXXX

School was uneventful, thank God. Freddie aced one of his tests, passed the other two with decent scores. Nothing to write home about but he was glad his mother was more concerned with his physical health than his academic progress.

Lunch was uneventful too. Unusual considering that one of Sam's great talents was causing a ruckus in the lunchroom whether it was swiping someone's lunch or dumping mashed potatoes onto the head of the biggest, nastiest kid there. The fights that often followed were epic to say the least and Carly had taken to wearing a waterproof, hooded windbreaker to lunch to protect her clothing and hair from the ensuing uproar.

Her calmness in the face of choas was one of the things Freddie liked about her. Carly was so normal. To someone like Freddie, raised by a mother who was always about three steps away from the nuthouse, a guy who always seemed to be the brunt of someone's mean joke, Carly's placid nature was something of a godsend. She was so pretty and sweet and regular and ...

A glob of sweet potatoes landed right on top of his untouched sandwhich. "Oh, man," he groaned with deep annoyance. Sweet potatoes didn't exactly mix well with tuna salad. He looked up and saw Sam looking somewhere over his shoulder, innocent as a newborn. He shoved his sandwhich at her in disgust. "You could have just asked for some."

Delighted, she scraped the sweet potatoes off and took a huge bite. "I didn't want some. I wanted all of it."

Freddie grimaced. Gratefully accepted the half sandwich Carly offered him and they continued to eat in relative peace That was until Mark Sanse came up to their table and leaned over Sam, whispering something in her ear. She turned an awful shade of white and he walked away with his friends, snickering.

Freddied stared after them. Turned back to Sam. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," Sam said, her face still pale. She shoved the sandwich aside. "Your mom makes a crappy tuna salad, by the way. Did I ever tell you that?"

Freddie nodded. "Yeah, she does." Carly looked just as concerned as he did and suddenly Freddie knew - there was something wrong here, very wrong and he was going to find out what it was. Soon.

xxxxx

tbc ...

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