It's the third of January - just a couple of days past New Year – but Sam is already feeling miserable. Not even Samantha Puckett ever figured that she could get emotionally exhausted even if she were the girl at school who seemed not to go short out of energy except during Math Class, the prankster who had a dozen of jokes to pull everyday if the subject was Freddie, the glutton whose jaw never got tired of chewing, and the enthusiastic host who refused to stand anywhere else during the web show but alongside the only girl she considered, felt, and knew, as her equal.
Yeah. Sam. She is Carly Shay's bestfriend.
And maybe that's just it.
Sam stared at the pink, milk candy rose she had been keeping safe inside a blue storage box she held with both her hands. This was the only thing in the world that she would refuse to eat. That's right. Sam refuses to eat something, and it's a tiny candy rose that she could actually shove in her mouth with one go. But she didn't. Why? It was simple. She could still hear the object of her misery cheerfully say, 'there are exceptions.'
She momentarily stared at the cruel sun from the rooftop she and the younger Shay found a liking to six months ago.
Yes, six months ago. That's when all this agonizing shit started. That's when it started and, to her misfortune, it went on.
Sam sighed deeply to keep that annoying pain in her chest go down. It was still there though. She gritted her teeth, heaved a breath and screamed, 'leave me alone! Damn it!'
She shook her head and averted her gaze from the sun to the pink candy. 'I hate you,' she murmured. She tilted the storage box toward the sun. 'I hate you', she said a notch louder.
When she noticed the sharper edges of the flower smoothen, she gave a slight snigger. 'For all the torture you caused me, I say you deserve that.'
She laughed a little to herself, realizing her foolishness. She gave another sigh. But this time, it was a sigh of helplessness. Six months of torture? Too long. Nah, not every day was torture anyway. And again, that's the point. If things were consistent instead, nothing would be painful. Yeah. If Carly Shay behaved consistently like a friend, things would have been better. Not like this.
When she snapped out of her reverie, she noticed a trickle of melted sugar trail down the stem of the rose. She immediately panicked, 'oh shit!'
She slammed the cover of the small storage box on top of it and darted for the stairs to get to literally anyone's refrigerator - as long as it was the closest. Stupid Sam, she managed to squeeze in her thoughts as her heart pounded in panic.
Love can be the shittiest thing in the world.
Yeah. There are exceptions.
Carly Shay sighed deeply to keep that annoying pain off her chest. That's about the ninety-eighth time today she hopelessly tried to keep herself from feeling that pain she just couldn't shrug off since that day. Yeah, that was six months ago. Well. It wasn't a pain everyday thing. But it was painful when it was there.
Why is it so hard?
There are times when she could see that barbed-wire fence keeping her from crossing the line – like Sam will never understand if she tried breaking her way from this mess. But there are times, not too much of them though, that somewhere along this fence that extended throughout the equator, there was a gate. And that gate seemed to have been created for only her – the only girl, she obviously considered, knew, and felt, that could stand an equal to Samantha Puckett.
'I'm not conceited!' She yelled to herself. Obviously, she was hearing her reveries clearly. Because that was she was. She was always sure of herself. But when it comes to the Carly Shay who was around Samantha Puckett only, she was a less pressuring and pressured creature. She wasn't the future-sensitive girl who had to have plans. She didn't seem to obsessive compulsive with the things she do. She was an entirely different person – but entirely comfortable. That's the effect Sam had on her. That's right. There are exceptions.
When she was Carly-with-Sam, she was without a shell. When she was Carly-with-Sam, she was Carly.
She stared at the clock on top of her bedside table. It was 3:30 in the afternoon. She was supposed to be at the rooftop by 3:00. 'Okay, no more games Shay.'
She heaved a hefty amount of air, got up from bed and broke for a run for the rooftop.
Thirty minutes past her supposed time to make up her mind, she decided that sacrifices needed to be made if she didn't want to live with the pain in her chest she had there for six agonizing months. Yes, for six months, she always thought that it'd be better to live with this pain than lose Sam. But to the irony of things, nothing seemed to go too smoothly. Her bestfriend seemed to be suffering from an unknown problem she refused to tell her, and she wasn't dumb. She will let the pieces fall where they are meant to fall this time.
Like how comical things usually get, she felt like she was seeing floating words in her way – screaming in capital letters – GAY. Not that she had a problem with being gay, but the thing is there are exceptions. She is an entirely different creature – she was that one who gazed and felt like this for only Samantha Puckett.
She practically flew through the flight of stairs toward the rooftop as soon as she got off the elevator.
Panting and legs all heavy, she said the word she longed to say after the moment she finally decided, 'Six!'
Yep. Exactly the word that started this mess. That stupid poll.
'Sam! It's-' she got cut-off mid sentence as she saw no sign of her bestfriend on the rooftop.