Chapter 2 - Will You Be There?
"Sam?" Freddie walked down the stairs to find Spencer staring at the front door as it slammed shut. "Spencer, where's Sam?"
Spencer turned around and looked at Freddie. "Um…she just left. Carrying a giant fork with a meatball on the end. And you guys say I'm weird."
Freddie frowned at the door, "Well, did she say where she was going?"
"Nope. Just dropped those papers and took off."
Freddie walked to the bottom of the stairs and gathered the papers. He looked over at the printer and saw it was empty. This must be what Carly sent him down to get, along with Sam – who was now nowhere to be found. Papers in hand, he took the stairs two at a time, not looking down at the papers until he walked back into Carly's room.
"Oh no," he said, staring at the papers as he walked slowly into Carly's room.
"What is it?" Carly said, turning from the vanity where she was brushing her hair. Seeing the papers in Freddie's hands and the look on his face, she knew. He'd read the results.
"Freddie…" she tried lending a calming tone to her voice as she walked toward him. "It's just a stupid test. It doesn't mean anything."
"Tell that to Sam!" he said, his voice loud as he shook the papers in the air.
"Where is she?" Carly sat down on the love seat opposite him. "I thought you went down to get her?"
"I did, but she must have seen these results before I could get them off the printer because by the time I got down there, these were scattered on the floor and she was out the door!" He groaned and put his head in his hands. "This is bad Carly, like really, really bad." He looked up at her "Why in the world did you ask her to take that test!"
"You said yes too!"
"Only because she did! You knew I'd say yes if she did!"
The room was quiet, both of them considering the implications of the situation. Freddie pulled out his phone and tried to call Sam. Once, twice, three times. Every call he made went straight to voicemail. He fired off a text message while Carly fell against the back of the love seat.
"So you think she saw it?" Carly asked when he'd finished. Freddie nodded. "Are you sure? Maybe she just had to leave…suddenly…without telling us."
"No, she saw it. Look…" he offered the paper to Carly. "There's even a tomato sauce thumbprint on it."
"Meatballs."
"Yeah. Spencer said he saw her leaving the house with one in her hand."
Carly nodded toward Freddie's outstretched hand. "Did you read them?"
"Yeah. I did."
"So…"
"I don't know Carly. I guess it's like you said. It's just a stupid test."
Carly's voice was quiet as she looked at the results. She'd seen them already on her computer and honestly she hadn't been shocked, but she was surprised at Sam's reaction to it. Freddie and Sam were as different as any two people she'd ever met, but she could tell they really cared about each other, and somehow they'd been able to make it work – so far.
"Right." She said quietly.
"And, I mean, the results aren't really a shock are they?"
"No. Not really."
"So it's not a big deal, right?"
"Right."
"What do we care what some stupid test says about us, right?"
"Right."
"Right." Freddie sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "But…I don't know Carls. It still just, it doesn't feel good. To have something or someone say that Sam and I…that we aren't meant to be together. Even if it is just a stupid test."
"Hurts, huh?"
Freddie nodded, but said nothing. He'd run out of words at this point. Besides, if he was going to talk about this, Carly wasn't the one he needed to be talking to. He needed to talk to Sam, and he would. Just as soon as he figured it out himself.
"I gotta go, Carly."
"Going to find Sam?"
"Yeah…I'm just gonna let her cool off first."
"Freddie, don't you think you should go find her now. I mean, if she was upset enough to storm out of here without even telling us then she must be pretty hurt too. You should…"
"Carly, no offense but…just let me handle this my way, okay?" he walked toward the door, "I think you've done enough."
Carly flinched as the bedroom door slammed behind him. All she wanted was to get a good grade on her paper. Not ruin her best friends' lives.
What had she done?
Freddie walked into his bedroom, grateful that his mother was at work. He wasn't in the mood to field any questions from her about the reason for his mood. Throwing his keys down on the nightstand, he fell face first onto his bed, groaning.
What a mess.
He'd gotten up today, after a long night spent video chatting with Sam, looking forward to spending the day with her. Last night they'd had a fight, not an uncommon occurrence. This time it had been about her irritation over him asking her if she'd finished her homework. He only asked to see if she needed any help, which would have given him an excuse to spend a few hours alone with her in either her bedroom or his. Those hours usually started with homework but ended with tangled limbs, bruised lips and a very happy Freddie. But to Sam, his insistence on monitoring her academic progress was annoying. She'd never been much for school and homework, but since she and Freddie had started dating he'd tried to help her stay on track. They only had a little over a year until graduation and he wanted her to have the best chance at getting into a decent college. Plus, one of the many stipulations his mother had placed on her approval of their relationship was that Sam stay out of trouble and both of them keep their grades up. He didn't want to give his mother a reason to complain.
Sam had told him directly to lay off. He'd gotten upset at how she was talking to him and told her so. She'd asked him when he'd decided to grow a set. He said she was just mad that he wasn't letting her keep his 'set' in a Mason jar like the other yahoos she'd dated. The argument had been heated. They'd both said things they shouldn't and she'd cut off the chat without saying goodbye. Afterwards, as usual, he was mad at himself for getting so upset and for talking without thinking. His monitor had started blinking as Sam initiated another chat.
"Hey nub."
"Hey."
"So…" Sam was waiting for him to apologize. He was sorry, but his pride was still too big to make the first move.
"Something you want to say?" he asked.
"Is there something you want to say?"
They sat in silence. Sam was even more stubborn than he was. This was one area of their relationship that hadn't changed too much since their days as frenemies. He looked into the monitor. Sam was sitting at her desk and her room was a typical mess behind her. Unmade bed, books strewn over it. He smiled at that – she'd been doing homework. He looked at her face. She was staring intently at something on the desk, biting at her bottom lip. She only did that when she was nervous. She was adorable when she was nervous. His heart started in on the rapid beating that only the sight of her brought. She was beautiful and he was the idiot crazy enough to waste time fighting with her.
"I'm sorry!" they blurted out at the same time.
They dissolved into laughter. And that was the end of it. Some people might comment on how often they fought, but those people never really saw how easily they made up. He couldn't stay mad at her – not for long; staying mad meant being without her. That had been hard when they were just friends but now that she was his girlfriend, it wasn't even an option. He wanted Sam in his life and he was pretty sure at this point that she felt the same way. He didn't want to risk that. For anything.
That's what made this whole compatibility test thing so…devastating. He could handle them fighting over concrete things. She talked with her mouth full. He was a little OCD. She took his school notes and forgot to return them. He got jealous when guys looked at her. These were things they could fix, that they could change – eventually. But compatibility? What could he do about that? The test was based on their honest answers about things that weren't really concrete. How could he fix the fact that their families were so different, that what they wanted in life was so different, that they were so different?
He didn't have an answer for that. Which is why he was laying here, with a headache, worrying about it instead of on his way to reassure his girlfriend that the test results meant nothing.
Because, what if they didn't? What if the test was right and they were just fooling themselves, trying to force a relationship that wasn't really going to work?
He groaned and pulled himself to a seated position, reaching for his phone. Still no word from Sam.
"Come on Sam," he said to himself. "Call me, damn it!" It was a waste of time, talking to himself. He knew Sam. If she was upset there was no way she was going to call him. She'd wait until he was a nervous wreck and she was calm enough to ensure she wouldn't cry in front of him. Sam hated crying in front of people, even Freddie. It was a rare occasion when she did it – she thought it made her look weak. Since they'd been dating it had only happened once; and he'd never forget it.
Sam had been missing from school all day and by the time the last bell rang Freddie was frantic. He'd told Carly he was going to her house and when she'd offered to come along, he'd declined. He and Sam had only been a couple for a month and he was still trying to get Carly to ease up on the stranglehold she had on Sam and let him have a chance to take care of her too. It hadn't been easy, but they were slowly finding their way from being a trio of friends to a trio that contained a couple. No easy feat.
He made it to Sam's house in record time, thanks to his mother letting him drive the car to school and him breaking the speed limit most of the way. Knocking on the door he prayed both that Sam's mom wouldn't be home and that Sam would answer the door. He got what he wanted but had no time to celebrate as shock settled in when he saw her.
She was wearing rumpled pajamas and her face was swollen, her cheeks tear streaked.
"Sam?" He walked in without an invitation and squinted inside the darkened house. "Baby, what's wrong?"
"Hey." she sniffled. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at school?"
"School let out over an hour ago." She walked toward her living room and he wondered if she'd even heard him. He stood in the doorway staring at her as she curled up on the sofa, wrapping a blanket around her. On the table beside her was an empty container of chocolate ice cream, a half empty bag of Fadoodles and several crumpled Fat Cake wrappers. On the floor a bottle of Peppy Cola had turned over and was now lying as a brown puddle by the coffee table.
"Well, are you gonna sit down or just stand there staring at me all day?" Her words didn't have their usual bite. Something was definitely wrong. And then he noticed something. Every time he'd been here there was always an oddly lumpy mass at her feet. Frothy. That cat hated everyone, except Sam.
"Where's your rabid cat?"
Sam looked up at him and then down at her hands, her face crumpled and she started to cry without a sound. That was the worst sort of crying – when the pain was too great to make any noise. He rushed over and gathered her in his arms, slipping in behind her on the sofa, letting her lay her head on his chest.
"Sam?" he said, as her tears began to taper off. "What's wrong? Did something happen to Frothy?"
"He's gone."
"Gone? He ran away? Well, don't worry. We'll make posters and hang 'em up around the neighborhood and if you want I'll go out with you and look for him. It'll be fine. I'm sure he's just…"
"Dead."
"What?"
"He's dead, Freddie." She started crying again. "I woke up this morning and he wasn't on my bed." She turned to look at Freddie, "You know he always sleeps on my bed. So I came downstairs and he wasn't down here so I went outside and called him and then I looked in the street and…he was just lying there. Someone hit him. Just hit him and left him in the street." Her tears started fresh.
Freddie didn't know what to say. He'd never been much of an animal person. They were strictly forbidden by his mother – disease, ticks, and smells were just a few of the million reasons she'd given for never letting him have a pet. And he'd never really been a fan of Frothy, a feeling that had been mutual. But he knew what Frothy meant to Sam. She really loved that cat, for reasons Freddie had never understood. Losing him had to be hard on her.
He reached down and smoothed the hair from her forehead, placing a kiss there. He lay back on the sofa, bringing her to lay with him and just let her cry, rubbing circle on her back, reassuring her that everything would be fine.
After a while her sobs softened to sniffles and eventually she grew quiet.
"Sorry about your shirt," she said, looking at the wet spot her tears had made.
"It's just a shirt. Are you feeling better?"
She laid her head against his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt. "I'm still sad, but, having you here…that makes me feel a little better. Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being here."
"You don't have to thank me for that. Ever."
She laughed, "How'd you get Carly not to come with you?"
"I told her I could handle it."
"And that worked?"
It was Freddie's turn to laugh. "Probably not…she probably followed me and is hiding in the bushes outside your house."
She'd laughed then, a genuine Sam laugh and it made his heart soar. He'd done that. When he'd arrived she'd been sad and now she was laughing, because of him. He wanted to be able to do that for her forever.
He still wanted that. He wanted to be the one that made Sam feel better when no one else could. The one who would be there for her when she wouldn't let anyone else in. He'd promised himself he would be that person. He couldn't stop now. That test hadn't told them anything they didn't already know. But there were something's the test couldn't measure.
Standing from the bed he walked over to his computer. He had a plan. Sam was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time. And he didn't intend to let anything make him let that go.
