Warning – brief underage drinking. ~ Alex

Ordinary People

Chapter Two

It was a Friday night. We had all gotten together at Pete's place after school. A few videogames flashed by (Sam and Shelley were the best players) and soon it was 6 pm. I noticed that Sam took his phone with him when he went to the bathroom. When he came back out and Pete started serving us beer he had raided from his parents' fridge (they were out of town), he frowned.

"Really?"

Pete looked at him comically, tilted his head down in a set stare and replied, "Really." There was a beat, then Pete sat back smiling, "C'mon, Sammy, just a few won't do any harm. Cut loose a little!"

Sam sighed and sat down.

"It's Sam, Pete."

"Sam. Sorry," Pete replied, handing him a cold one. Sam took it gingerly and opened it. He took a swig and I could tell it wasn't the first time he'd had a drink… So why the hesitation?

It was a good night, over all. We stayed up until 10 or 11 pm. Shelley and I decided to sleep over at Pete's house (we'd been close friends since 7th grade; sleepovers were standard practice on Friday nights), but Sam wanted to go. At 10:45, he sat up and said he was going to head out.

"Wait… Who's picking you up?"

"I don't know… Dean, maybe, but I haven't called him yet."

"Well call him right now and stay here while he comes to pick you up."

"Nah, it's okay. It's a short walk from here, so I'll just get going and see if he can pick me up while I'm en route."

I suddenly realized that Sam had been expressing a desire to get going for the past 45 minutes and we had kept ignoring him, getting him to have one more beer. Now, he was obviously a little tipsy (he was slurring his words), so I didn't think this plan of his was a great idea, and I said so.

"No I'm fine I'll see you guys later," and before I could reply, he just skipped up the stairs to leave the house. Shelley and Pete shouted their goodbyes after him. I sat on the couch, watching Shelley and Pete staring at the video game monitor, then back at the stairs. I was a bit conflicted.

"Shit," I sighed as I got up from the sofa to follow Sam. I left the basement ("Bring down the Pringles when you get back!" shouted Shelley) to go investigate where Sam was headed. I caught him just as he had closed the front door.

"Sam hold up!" I shouted, grabbing my jacket and opening the door back open. Sam stopped, and looked at me, surprised. I came outside to stand next to him.

"Hey."

"Hey," he replied, looking at me, a little confused. I felt the need to explain my presence, like I had just interrupted him doing something that he didn't want me seeing.

"I just thought I'd come out here and give you company while your brother's on his way," I said breezily, hoping he wouldn't reject me outright and tell me to leave. He didn't, though, I think because he is just really really polite.

"Um, okay." I watched as Sam pulled the cell phone from out of his jacket pocket and I noticed his hands were shaking.

"You cold?"

"Nah nah…" He responded. He clicked one number and held the phone to his ear. I watched him as he waited, his hands trembling visibly. I heard the phone pick up on the other line and Sam gripped it tightly.

"Yeah… Yeah… 612 Syc'more… Sick-A-More…" Sam repeated because he'd slurred. He turned away from me and gripped the cell with both hands. "Yeah… Ye-Ye-ah," Sam's voice broke. I looked at him sharply; he was turned away from me, but I was positive I had heard his voice break like he was crying. He sniffed a couple of times and then I heard him say, "Yes, sir," with a much stronger voice. What the hell, he was calling his brother, 'sir'?

And then he hung up and turned around, betraying nothing. I looked at him seriously.

"Sam… Is everything okay at home?" It was night time, but I could've sworn a shadow crossed through his eyes. He smiled a fake smile (I could tell by now, his fake and real smiles).

"Of course it is. My brother's on his way. You don't need to keep me company."

"No I want to," I replied. It was the best I could do; I think of myself as a good friend. We kind of sat in silence anyway, though. Sam's hands still trembled a little.

…

A huge black car soon rode up to the house… It looked scary, menacing, and I could only see Dean's silhouette in the car. He looked kind of scary, too, and something made me really want to hold Sam back and tell him to just relax with another beer before going to bed on one of Pete's over-stuffed sofas with a lived-in comforter. But Sam, who had seen the car come around the corner, immediately jumped up (like someone had lit a fire) and said goodbye to me hastily and sidled up to the edge of the sidewalk without me. Okay, I thought, message received loud and clear. So I walked back into Pete's house and watched them from the window. They stayed there for a few minutes, actually, just talking. I saw Sam's hands gesture in frustration and immediately the car took off out of my sight; out of the street. I remembered the guys said Dean was reckless. Seemed like he was pretty reckless with his car.

…

Sam really never stopped surprising us. We saw firsthand what he had meant we he had said that people get into fights sometimes. He straight up just punched a guy that was maliciously insulting and imitating Roger Clear, a special needs kid (Autism). He was like our class's hero for awhile after that and I was really proud.

…

"Hey did you hear that a kid got suspended for a week?" Shelley asked me.

"What? That's news that almost never happens," I replied.

"Who? What'd they do?"

"I don't know. I just know a kid got suspended."

"Go ask Tom he always knows this shit," I said absentmindedly. Shelley walked over just as Sam sat down.

"Hey what's up?" He asked casually as he took his backpack off and got settled.

"Not much. Some kid got suspended for a week, apparently," I said just as casually. I took a bite of my noodles and looked up at him, surprised at the expression on his face. "What? What'd I say?"

Just then, Shelley ran up to us, excited, then saw Sam, and fell into silence. I put two and two together.

"Dean? Dean got suspended?" I asked, incredulous. Sam sighed and sat down.

"Yeah."

"Wow, what'd he do?"

"I think he pissed the P.E. teacher off and then got into a fight on the same day."

"Dude your brother's pretty scary," Pete commented darkly, "I don't know how someone like you could handle being around someone like him."

"Oh, you know, I manage," Sam said humorously. The rest of us were just not in on the joke. Sam dropped his smile.

"Seriously, Sam. Is he okay? What's his deal? Is he on something?" At the last question, Sam almost snorted into his food with laughter. It set us at ease, but we were still wondering.

"No, he's not 'on something.'"

"So…?"

"I don't know. He's just… Rough around the edges."

"That's putting it a little mildly, Sam," Shelley said. I agreed.

"Yeah Sam I heard he hooks up with anything that'll move and he's really disrespectful and just mean," I said. Honestly, I had wanted to talk to him for ages about this. Sam just nodded a little.

"Well maybe that's why you don't see us together very often, huh?"

"Seriously?"

"No."

Sam smiled, as if this was a game. We were all stumped and a little irritated Sam wouldn't give us the full story behind his brother. We'd known him for so long, now. We really wanted to hear about how terrible he was from Sam, the kid who could really dish out the truth.

And then it occurred to me. Sam really was the, 'good,' one: he was polite, got great grades, and seemed to have a moral compass. Whereas Dean, who was equally, if not more, popular by now, was like Sam's opposite: disrespectful, probably received low grades (I didn't know that for sure, really), aggressive. They even looked like opposite: Sam wore comfy-looking hoodies, but his brother wore this slashed up, worn leather jacket all the time. Both of them were popular, both of them were complete opposites. How did they actually live with each other?

I figured maybe Sam was lying about how rarely he saw his Dad. His dad must be the buffer between the two of them. There was just no way the two of them could survive without an intermediate: They were just way too unequal. And Dean just seemed like a completely self-centered bastard… Like that phone call I had heard. Sam had to call Dean, 'sir'? And he nearly cried (I swear it was like a crying voice break) over just some beers on a Friday night? I mean I know it's underage drinking, but why was Sam's brother making him cry?

Slowly but surely, I was becoming more and more angry at Dean on Sam's behalf. I didn't really know what the hell was going on, but I knew that it had to be coming from Dean. All signs pointed… And I kind of hoped for the day I could talk to him. I wanted to make a freaking speech to this asshole.

Thank you for reading! Please review! ~ Alex