... AKA: Why do these people keep following me?
Heavy breathing filled her ears as panic coursed through her veins. She had to find him. She had to. There was no other choice. If she didn't, well, the consequences were unimaginable.
She never lost. Never.
Sam's eyes roved back and forth across the two pages while Gibby's and Freddie's did the same on either side of her. After a few more seconds of frantic searching, she triumphantly jabbed her finger down in the middle of the spread.
"There he is!"
"Three times in a row?" Freddie whispered angrily, "You have to be cheating!"
"I dunno, Freddie," Gibby said from her right, "You can't really cheat on this. And besides, she did say she borrowed it this morning."
"Gibby's got it right," Sam grinned smugly, "You guys just suck at—"
"Puckett!"
Sam glanced up innocently. Freddie and Gibby quickly held up their own books, hiding their faces from Mrs. Briggs. The teacher glared from the desk at the front.
"Yes, Mrs. Briggs?"
"Where's Wally? is not suitable reading material for an 11th grade English class. Put it away. And stop it with that innocent look. It makes me want to vomit."
Sam gave a prolonged groan.
"Now, Puckett."
She figured getting expelled over a book wasn't worth it so she stowed Where's Wally? in her backpack and sat twiddling her thumbs. The clock told her it was going to be 1 minute and 27 seconds until freedom. Converting into class time, that was roughly equivalent to 2 hours. She resisted the urge to stand up and shout obscenities. Briggs was seriously driving her insane. What was the point of forcing the students to read for the last 10 minutes of class? If a teacher is done teaching, class should be over and the students should be released. To keep them in was a significant infraction of personal rights. It was unfair; nay, it was injustice!
Sam glanced at the clock again. 20 seconds had passed. She slammed her head on the desk.
"Head up, Puckett!"
That's it. Expulsion or no expulsion, nobody talks to Sam Puckett that way. She prepared to jump from her seat, but before she could do so the school secretary burst into the room.
"Francine! Your car's on fire!"
"What?" Briggs shot out of her chair and, as she went through the doorway, shouted, "Class dismissed!"
A cheer went up, the students busying themselves with packing their books, glad to have finished another day of school. Sam silently thanked the mechanic that had miswired Briggs' car at the opportune moment. She shoved her papers haphazardly into her backpack and stood up.
"Let's make like dice and roll, nubs."
She began to walk towards the door. When they didn't follow her, she looked back. Freddie was hastily scribbling down the homework that was written on the blackboard while Gibby tried to copy down Freddie's frantic handwriting.
Honestly.
Sometimes she found it hard to understand why she hung out with them. Then again she had always been a magnet for the bizarre and peculiar. The incident with the passive-aggressive zebra and the package of instant noodles spoke volumes.
"Sam? What are you doing?"
Freddie's voice jarred her out of her memories.
"I was waiting for you two idiots to stop being nubs and to hurry up and get out of here," she shuddered, "I think I'm breaking out in hives."
This time, they followed her out into the hallway where students were still bustling around. Phase 1: Complete, Sam thought. If only she could just make it to the front doors without interruption, then maybe she could get home and have a nice relaxing night of listening to music and watching TV. However, things always seemed to get in her way. This time, it was Reuben who proved the obstacle as she, Freddie, and Gibby rounded the next corner.
Sam didn't notice him immediately, but she did notice when he spouted his trademark crap.
"Chug the otter, Mrs. Potter!"
She sighed and wondered if the vein in her forehead was showing yet.
"Reuben, I thought I told you to—"
To say Reuben had changed would have been a bit of meiosis. He was, as the French say, le hunk. He wasn't like the dunderheads who hung out in the weight room during lunch. Reuben's t-shirt showed only a hint of muscles, but it was enough to jog the imagination. His hair was a shiny golden brown and fell sideways across his eyes. And it wouldn't hurt to say he was now as tall as Freddie, who in fact was even taller this year.
Sam opened and closed her mouth several times. A hand waved in front of her eyes and she heard Freddie say, "Sam? Sam? Hello?"
"What's the matter? Did her chair dive in the batter?" Reuben asked, leaning in to peer at her worriedly.
The angels and trumpets disappeared out from over Reuben's head. Sam frowned. Figures. He finally starts looking good and he's still a complete idiot.
"Get outta my face, loonybin," she snapped.
Reuben smiled and straightened up. "Ah, there's the manta ray, the sun has come out and play."
"He's rhyming," Sam muttered to Gibby, "Why's he rhyming?"
He shrugged as if to say "hell if I know".
Reuben sidled up to Sam and draped an unfortunate arm over her shoulder. Adopting what she called a shit-eating-grin, he whispered in her ear, "How about a fish for the—"
That's as far as he got. Sam locked an arm around his neck and squeezed. Reuben's eyes bulged out of his head as he gasped for breath.
"Sam!" Freddie scolded, glancing around the hallway, "You're gonna get in trouble! Remember? Expulsion?"
Sam nodded. He was right. The hallways were emptying and they were in plain sight. She needed to make this quick.
"Okay, you're gonna listen to me and you're gonna listen good," she hissed through gritted teeth, "Consider this a warning. Next time you think you can proposition me, you'll be singing soprano. 'Cuz I have a nutcracker at home and I'd hate for Christmas to come early this year. Capiche?"
Reuben's head wobbled up and down which Sam took for a yes. She released him. The trio watched as he took one last fearful look at Sam and dashed down the hall.
"I think that's the last we'll see of the yellow bellied varmint," she announced in a satisfied sort of way.
She could almost hear Freddie roll his eyes. "Good job, Yosemite Sam."
Her ears perked up at the new nickname. She rolled it around on her tongue. "Yosemite Sam, yeah...Yosemite Sam. I like it! Thanks, Fredinator."
They finally arrived at Carly's locker where, as expected, Carly and Wendy were waiting.
"There you are!"Carly exclaimed, "What took you?"
"A minor skirmish," Sam said as she twisted the dial. 19-1-13.
"Minor skirmish? Sam, what did I tell you about getting into fights?"
She snorted, turning around. "Fight? It wasn't even a fight. It was me winning."
Carly sighed.
"It was Reuben," Freddie said from over Wendy's shoulder.
"Reuben? The weird talking kid? I thought he was through with you."
"Apparently not. Had to teach him a lesson." Sam shoved all her textbooks into the locker and was about to slam it closed when Carly's hand grabbed the door.
"You don't have any homework?" Carly asked suspiciously.
Sam gave her the same innocent look she gave to Briggs. "Nope."
Carly narrowed her eyes.
"Really."
Sam nodded. "No chizz."
"But what about the English assignment?" Gibby interjected helpfully. A second later, he wilted under Sam's glare. He glanced at his non-existent watch. "Well, my mom and I are gonna go underwear shopping so I gotta go."
She snickered has he nearly tripped over himself dashing out the double doors.
Carly grimaced. "Underwear shopping with his mom?"
"That kid has so many problems," Sam said shaking her head mournfully.
"Agreed. Hey wait! Don't change the subject! Do homework, Sam."
Carly reached in and grabbed the English textbook, shoving it into Sam's arms. Sam staggered dramatically under the new weight.
"Ca-arly!" she whined, hopefully looking pathetic enough to garner pity, "It's too heavy for me to carry home."
However, Carly was having none of it. "Sam, you can carry Freddie around no problem, but you can't carry a book?"
"But Freddie's full of air anyways. He doesn't weigh anything."
"I heard that!" Freddie shouted.
"That's why I said it!" she called back.
Carly rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Sam. Just do it. This year is really important and I want you to do your best. Please? For me?"
Like many others, Sam couldn't resist Carly's ultimate line, so she gave up fighting it.
"Fine. But you owe me a pack of fat cakes."
"Sure thing," Carly said happily. Sam closed her locker and the duo left Freddie and Wendy in a whispering conversation.
"So how goes it?"
"Ugh, Spencer's been stranger than normal."
Sam was curious. For Spencer to be stranger than normal, he'd have to have to be superweird.
"In what ways?"
Carly shrugged. "I dunno. He's just been quiet when we're not talking and really loud when we are. He's up at bizarre times in the night. And sometimes, I hear this banging sound coming from his room."
"Hmm. That is strange."
Outside, Sam quickly hugged Carly and started towards the bus stop in case the bus driver had any rebellious ideas.
"You're not coming over?" asked Carly.
She replied, walking backwards. "No, it's Thursday."
"Oh, right. Good luck with your thing. I'll call you."
"You better. Oh, and call me Yosemite Sam."
Carly gave her an amused look.
Sam got a running start and managed to jump the three steps into the bus. She looked around for any empty seats and luckily there was one right near the front. She plopped into the seat, resting her cheek against the window. It was warm from the late summer sun. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the comfortable sensation.
"Achoo!"
Sam found out why the seat was empty. Without opening her eyes, she whispered, "Germy?"
"Yes?" he whispered back.
"I dare you to sneeze into the back of my head one more time."
Silence. Then a mad scramble and a sneeze from somewhere further back.
She smiled.
"Mom! I'm home!"
Her mom didn't answer. Sam remembered that her mom was taking classes at the community college as a way of getting on the straight and narrow. Personally, Sam thought her mom could've just gotten a simple, legitimate job, but evidently, when Pam did something, it had to be all the way. She was sort of proud of that fact. It showed mettle.
Sam went to her room, dropping her textbook on the counter as she passed by the kitchen. She slung her backpack against her bed and walked back out to the kitchen where she made herself a thick ham and Swiss sandwich. Using her textbook as a tray, she balanced the sandwich along with a bag of Ray's potato chips, a Peppy cola, a pack of Fat Cakes, and a Chuckles bar as she returned to her room. She set the meal on her bedside table and flopped into bed. She flipped on the TV to Girly Cowand leaned upright on her stack of pillows.
She took a big bite of sandwich, a handful of chips, and a sip of soda.
Ahh. Just living the life.
Her phone buzzed, signaling a text message.
To: Sam
From: Carly
DO UR HW! DON'T LEAVE IT TIL 12
Sam was really hoping that wouldn't happen.
Carly knew her too well. That's exactly what she was planning to do. But apparently, Carly didn't agree that midnight was the best time to analyze the finer points of American literature. Sam was about to dismiss the order, but she glanced guiltily at the English book piled with food.
Stupid conscience.
She moved all the food off the textbook and picked it up. She then realized that she didn't know the assignment. One quick text to Freddie later, she was on page 24.
Read the Declaration of Independence and answer the questions on page 27.
A compromise was in order. For every two minutes of TV she watched, she read another sentence from the Declaration. Slowly but surely, Sam worked her way through the assignment. Then it was on to the questions.
She took one look at the list of 20 and shut the book. Forget that chiz. Girly Cow was a cruel mistress who should not be ignored.
A couple hours later, the Sam heard the front door slam open.
"SAM! I'M HOME!"
She flipped open her phone to check the time. 5:58. Just in time. She jumped off the bed and ran into the cramped living room. Her mom was already sprawled out on the couch.
"Hey, kid. Hurry up."
Sam sat next to her mom and together they waited as the clock ticked closer and closer to 6 o'clock. The second hand finally reached the 12 and the faced each other.
Simultaneously, they concentrated, grimaced, and squeezed out, "I love you."
Sam collapsed sideways across the couch while her mom's head fell backwards. They gasped and wheezed with the effort. Their eyes connected. Her mom began to laugh and she joined in.
"We're so lame!" Her mom said in between laughs.
"Damn right we are."
It wasn't that they didn't mean it. It just wasn't their thing. It was sort of...understood. Sam knew her mom, although sometimes negligent and abrasive, cared about her. And Pam knew her daughter, although snappish and rude, returned the feelings. But the therapist didn't seem to trust them so he set up Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays at 6 o'clock as a bonding time when they were supposed to say their "I love you's".
After she caught her breath, Sam stood and held out a hand.
Pam groaned. "I'm sooo comfortable."
"C'mon, mom."
Sam grabbed her mom's hand and pulled her upright. They went into the kitchen where Pam opened the fridge and peered in.
"Damn, forgot to go shopping. I'm thinking mac & cheese?"
Sam made a face.
"With ham?"
Sam grinned. "You know me so well."
A Blue Box Mac & Cheese was quickly made and Sam diced up a thick slice of the ever present ham in their fridge. As they ate, they chatted about various subjects.
Sam found out her sister was coming home for Christmas this year which was always a good thing. She might have found her sister annoying but having Melanie home for Christmas made her feel like family again.
("Don't tell her I said that!")
As it turned out, her mom was late due to an economics course taught by "the lamest teacher alive."
("I mean, class was twenty minutes over and he kept on talking in that boring-ass voice!")
They took turns insulting Briggs.
("That old sack!")
And soon dinner was done. Sam won the rock, paper, scissors match so her mom was stuck doing the dishes. She returned to her darkened room just in time to turn on the light and hear a persistent buzzing.
She reclined on her bed.
"Hey, Carly Barley."
"Hey, Yosemite Sam. Did you do your homework?"
Sam remembered the incomplete assignment that lay on the bed next to her thigh.
"Define 'do'."
"Did you finish your homework?"
"Define 'homework'."
"The assignment that you probably had to text Freddie for because you forgot to write it down."
"Define—"
"Sam! Just do it!"
"Fine, fine. Why do you have to nag me, woman?"
"Well, because you're irresponsible and lazy."
She laughed and said jokingly, "If that wasn't true, I'd go over there right now to beat you up, Shay, just for saying it."
"Sure. Bring it. I'd punch you right in the gut."
"Oh please, the last thing you punched was your History essay. Three holes to put in your binder. I could take you even if I was blindfolded in a square wheeled wheelchair."
The phone rasped with static as Carly snickered.
"Square wheels, Sam? Really?"
"Yep. Square. Like Freddie. Anyways, how's it been with Spencer? Has he exhibited any symptoms?"
"Yeah, he's been on the phone since I got home. I asked him who it was and he threw a handful of raisins at me and ran into his room."
She began tearing a sheet of paper into triangular pieces.
"Maybe he's a hitman. I once knew a hitman. Secret phone conversations, up in the middle of the night, sounds from his room. Those are the signs."
"Right," Carly said sarcastically, "Since when did you know a hitman?"
"I want over to my Uncle Carmine's house one day. Back when my mom spent a ton of time at the bar. He volunteered to help me with a science project. Well, it took too long so I slept over. I'm pretty sure one of the guys that was hangin' around there was a hitman. He did all those things you said."
"Sam, I don't think Spencer's an assassin."
Sam shrugged even Carly couldn't see. Now she was working on making squares. "Hey, don't listen to me. What do I know? I just have 5 relatives in jail and a gangster Uncle. Just don't blame me when you come home one day and Spencer's in Canada with a new name and a new face."
She was answered with a hiss of electricity.
"Carly. Carly?"
"..."
"You know I was kidding, right? Carly? Hel—"
"Sorry, Sam, I got distracted. What were you saying?"
"I was saying Spen—"
Sam was interrupted with a loud squeal.
"Sorry, Sam, I gotta go. Bye!"
Carly hung up. Sam stared at her phone.
"Well, that was weird." She looked down to see her bed covered with scraps of paper. "Damn it!"
So all the characters are introduced. (Minor/situational characters come in later.) A thanks to KingxLeon21 for an inspiring review in which the idea of Killer!Spencer came into fruition.
iCabal=good stories.
Please review.