I decided to take a tiny little break from iDavid to write the second chapter of this story. No worries iDavid fans, I already typed up the first part of the last chapter and I'm almost done. I just wanted to update this story as well. Thank you to those who reviewed the first chapter and added it to their favorites and alerts. So far, this story is off to a great start.
My name is Samantha Puckett, but I will pound anyone that calls me that. I do not look like a Samantha and I do not act like one either. Samantha sounds like a girlie girl who likes to wear daffodils on her hair and skip around in the woods, singing a sappy, corny tune. I go by Sam. Simply Sam. Sam sounds normal. It sounds more like me. I am one tough cookie if I do say so myself.
I live in a pretty rough part of Seattle, Washington with my mom and my dad. My dad is a construction worker and my mom is a stay at home mom. My mother is a little on the crazy side. She babysits our neighbors' kids in the morning and then spends the rest of the day drinking some kind of alcoholic beverage. She is an alcoholic and we've tried to get her some help but she insists she can control it. There has been one occasion where she was so drunk, she yelled at me and my dad in the middle of the night, causing the whole block to hear us. She slapped me hard and ever since then, I stopped trusting her.
I also have a twin sister. Her name is Melanie. She was always the better one, the likable one, the smart one, the girlie one. Pretty much, she is everything I'm not. Her perfect grades got her a scholarship to one of the country's best boarding school. She studies in New York now. I really don't mind being away from her. I've always been under her shadow and now I can just be myself without people comparing us.
My dad is really something else. He is the only one in the family that I trust with my life. He is the only person who accepts me for who I am and doesn't judge what I do. I feel like I can be myself around him and he won't laugh or make fun of me. I don't have to put up some sort of wall when I'm with him.
I am a very tough person. No one at school talks to me in fear that I would hurt them. I don't blame them though. I've always been one to defend myself. When I was in kindergarten, one of the boys in my class made fun of my curly blond hair. He said that I looked like a blond clown, or some kind of wild animal. The whole class pointed and laughed at me. I was enraged. I grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him to the ground. Everyone in the class gasped and ran away from me. Ever since then, people just didn't bother to get to know me. They just assumed I am some bad girl.
In some ways, they are right. I am a bad person when I want to be but that's only to satisfy what people think about me. If they think I am just some rebel who will knock anyone out, then that's what they will get from me. I don't feel like I need to explain myself to total strangers. I am not desperate for friends. I am fine without them. I am also a brutally honest person. I say whatever is on my mind and people think I am just a bitch because of that. I guess my whole life, I just allowed people to define who I am that I just grew into it overtime. People think I am a tomboy, and I somewhat am one. No one has seen me in pink, skirts, flip flops, bikinis, or tank tops. I grew to despise these things. I'm good with a simple plaid long sleeve shirt, jeans, and sneakers.
It's hard to fully explain why I am the way I am. Sometimes I confused myself because I am not a completely bad person. People just assume I am a bully, a bitch, someone to NOT mess with. They never bother to actually get to know the good Sam. Sometimes it's hard to ignore the bad stuff people say about me. Some of the smart people in my school, have called me crazy and a bully. What do I do? I prove their theory right by shoving them into their lockers or giving them wedgies.
It's not because I enjoy it. I've spent my whole life being this tough person that if I ever show any sign of goodness in me, they would probably laugh or call me a hypocrite. That's one thing I don't like about myself. I have too much pride.
There have been times where I've attacked a nerd in school so they could give me their lunch money. It's not out of entertainment. Since my family doesn't make much money, I have to find someway to make money for myself. What better way than to just harass nerds in school? It just gives them more reason to call me a bully.
One thing that no one knows about me except for my family is that I play and sing. My dad is a musician but nothing professional though. It's always been a hobby of his and he passed it on to me. He taught me to play guitar when I was eight. I fell in love with the guitar the moment I held one in my hands. Music is such a big part of my life but since people only see me as a bully and nothing more, I don't share this part of my life with anyone.
Most of the songs I have written are love songs. Let's face it, no matter how tough I am, I am a girl with needs. I've had my fair share of drama when it comes to the opposite sex. My most recent situation was with this guy named Doug Totter. He was in my English class last year. I was a junior and he was senior. You could call him a bad boy. He always stood up for himself and I guess that's what attracted me to him. He was somehow like me and I liked that we could relate.
We had a good relationship but after a while, his friends asked if to go to this studio to fence. He grew to love fencing so much that we started to drift apart. He became someone else. Not the person I met in my English class. I couldn't explain the change. He was different. All he wanted to do was fence with his friends so I decided to end my relationship with him. We broke up on good terms but I was still a little hurt because I thought I found someone I could trust outside of my family. We stopped talking after our break up and I liked it that way. The last time I saw him was before he graduated.
My life isn't perfect but I am content. I am who I am and I can't help it. As long as I have my dad, my guitar, and a notebook with a pencil attatched to it, life is pretty good.
I was walking home from school. The sun was setting. I spent a couple of hours in detention because I snapped at my teacher. I don't like teachers. They think they are high and mighty just because they are adults and they can tell us what to do. I'm okay with the fact that teachers can tell us what to do but some just abuse their powers too much. It's irritating.
During detention, I was writing a new song. Sometimes, inspiration just hits me out of the blue, in random places. There was a time where I wrote a song in the bathroom. I wrote a song in the middle of a final. I rushed to my house because I wanted to start adding music to it.
I walked into my house and rushed to my room. My house wasn't the nicest. It was kind of small and it was always messy but I really didn't care much if it was clean or not. The only thing I truly take care of is my guitar. I walked into my room and opened the closet door. I picked up my guitar case, which was a dark shade of green. My name was drawn on the side of the case in a cool graffiti like style. Drawing was another one of my hobbies but I didn't enjoy it as much as I did playing the guitar.
I walked outside to the backyard. After work, my dad always took some time to relax on the hammock that he made when I was little. I walked over to him with a smile on my face.
"Sup daddy-o," I said. I always called him that. He didn't care what I called him which is what gave me more reasons why he is the coolest person I know.
"Hey Sammie," he responded. He was the only one that could call me that.
"I wrote a song today. Could we maybe play it for a while?"
"Sure. Here, hand me the guitar," he said and I carefully handed him my guitar. My dad used to own this guitar when he was in high school. It was pretty old so I had to be very careful. He opened the case and grabbed the guitar. He started tuning it so that the sound could come out perfect. He was on the last string when it suddenly broke.
"Crap," I cursed under my breath. We had no more guitar strings. They were a bit expensive.
"Sorry Sammie," he apologized. "Why don't we go buy some more?"
"But we barely have enough money for the bills," I stated, looking down a little disappointed. Life would be so much easier if we had a little more money.
"It's okay. I know how much your guitar means to you."
"How about I pay for the string?" I suggested, pulling out a wad of money from my pocket. He nodded and we made our way out of the door. There was a pawn show a few blocks away from my house. Maybe the guy that works there can give me a good deal.
"Sammie? How did you get that kind of money?" asked my dad.
"Oh. I took money from some nub on my way to school," I said honestly. I could always tell my dad everything and he wouldn't yell at me or ground me.
"Look, I know things are hard but I really don't approve of you doing these kind of things," he said in a serious tone.
"Yeah I know but what can we do? It's not like mom gets much from babysitting and you only make enough for the bills. I know I can't get a job because everyone in this damn neighborhood thinks I'm gonna steal their merchandise," I breathed out. My dad just gave me an understanding nod and we continued walking.
On our way, we saw a guy with really baggy jeans, a wife beater, and really dark sunglasses on. He had four guys, dressed exactly the same, following him. They approached another guy, dressed in similar fashion. They were gangsters. This neighborhood had a lot them but I've never seen them fight before.
"Hey, I heard you were talking shit about me," said the guy that had his friends backing him up. They all looked at the lonely one with such rage and anger. Like they were ready to throw fists.
"Yeah I have, so?" the other one answered pushing him, causing him to fall. His friends immediately attacked him. They threw him tot he ground and started punching him. They were all punching, kicking, and even spitting on him. I got suddenly scared. Sure, I've been in fights but I was never in something so brutal like that. There was blood everywhere.
"Hey break it up," I heard my dad yell and he ran to the gang. He tried to pull them away from the guy that was being attacked but one of them pulled a knife. I stood there, frozen. I wanted to go over and knock them out so bad but I wouldn't budge. I watched as the one with the knife took a blow at my dad. He stabbed him in the stomach.
"Stay out of our business old man," he said and stabbed him a few more times. My dad clenched his stomach and fell to the floor. The gangsters started panicking and they all fled the scene, including the one that my dad was trying to protect. I ran towards my dad and I took his cell phone out of his pocket. I dialed 911 as I grabbed my sweater and tried to stop the bleeding. It was useless. He was practically drowning in a puddle of blood.
The ambulance arrived and one of the paramedics came out with a stretcher. They carefully lifted him on top of it and one of the paramedics pressed two fingers on against neck, checking for a pulse. My heart pounded, wondering what the lady would tell me.
"I'm sorry sweetie, he has no pulse. I think it was the blood loss," she said, giving me a sympathetic look.
My heart was going a mile a minute, and so was my breathing. My dad was gone.
No one showed up to my dad's funeral. I was all alone at the cemetery. The workers quickly buried him and left me alone. I've never been so angry in my entire life.
The gangster that killed my dad was put on trial days after he passed away. He was found innocent. His stupid gangster buddies denied everything that happened and no one had any proof that he killed my dad. He was a smart and sneaky son of a bitch.
I was angry at my mom. The day she found out about my dad's murder, she drank until she passed out. she stopped babysitting and just sat around the house, drinking and drowning herself in misery. Every night she yelled at me, telling me it was my fault for my dad's death. That he would be alive if I haven't asked him to play my guitar. After so much verbal abuse, I began to believe it.
I was angry at Melanie and her stupid school. They wouldn't allow her to fly to Seattle for the funeral. The school principle said that he felt bad but he had to follow school policy. That he couldn't give her special treatment and that it was unfair to the rest of the student body. They only allowed her to come home for the holidays. This was the one time I actually needed her to be here. Her school just reached a new level of stupidity, even if they were the best school in the country.
I took a red rose and I gently placed it in front f my dad's tombstone. Normally, anyone would have been crying because they lost one of their loved ones but I didn't. I didn't see the point in crying. It's not like it was going to bring him back. Crying was a sign of weakness and that is the one thing I'm not. I am not weak and I will never allow anyone in anymore. As of now, it's just me, myself and I.
I stood there, staring at the pile of dirt with the rose on top of it when I saw a group of people from far away. They were coming my way because I saw a rectangular hole next to my dad's grave. I wasn't in the mood to see anyone so I ran towards a nearby tree and I watched them.
They all looked miserable as they cried helplessly. Everyone gave speeches and hugged each other before they buried whoever passed away. I couldn't stop staring at this guy around my age the entire time. He looked like he was the saddest out of all of them. He was light skinned and his hair was fluffed up. He was dressed in a black tuxedo. I saw him throw a rose as they lowered the coffin and he immediately placed his head on some girl's shoulder. Probably his girlfriend.
He walked away from everyone and sat down on the ground. I couldn't help but look at him with envy. He had all these people with him, they were crying with him, mourning with him, and my mom couldn't even get out of bed for one damn day to say one last goodbye to my dad. He started looking around and he stopped when he caught me looking at him. I was startled so I just walked away, shoving my hands in the pockets of my sweater.
I walked straight home. I opened the door and surprise surprise, my mom was drinking. She is going to get sick someday from all that alcohol. I was surprised she didn't get alcohol poisoning.
I walked into my room and picked up my guitar case. Music was the thing that brought me and my dad together. Now he was gone. I walked out of the room and up the attic. I gently placed my guitar next to all the items that I have abandoned in the past.
I decided to stop playing and give up music forever.
Okay so that's chapter two. Next chapter, Sam and Freddie meet for the very first time. I think this story is going to be over 20 chapters. I have so much planned for Sam and Freddie. I'm very excited. Review and please let me know if you liked it. :)
Did you notice some iCarly reference earlier? If you didn't, Doug Totter was mentioned. You'll hear more about him in later chapters! I also wanted to apologize if Sam seems a bit confusing. In my personal opinion, I think Sam has a tough exterior but she is really a nice girl deep down inside. I think that she has too much pride to let that nice girl shine through in the series. So yeah, sorry if one minute she seems tough and the next she seems vulnerable. I think she's a pretty confusing character but that's maybe why she's my favorite.
I also apologize if the part where Sam's father dies seemed a bit too violent. I tried not to write it out so detailed.
On a sad note, I saw the newest iSaved Your Life promo. I wasn't very happy when I saw it. Sam seems like she's jealous a bit and I KNOW there is going to me a lot *shudders* Creddie in it. *sigh* we'll see what happens. Let me know what you think of the new promo. If you haven't seen it, I'm sure it's on youtube.
:D