Chapter 4: iDidn't Realize What I Was Getting Myself Into

The image on the screen bobbed its head rhythmically to the beat, a movement that Freddie easily imitated. Suddenly the music swelled in volume, causing the image to propagate a wave that started at the tip of his fingers and undulated throughout the rest of his body. Again Freddie imitated what he saw on the screen but with remarkably less success thanks to the large amount of time he spent in front of a computer screen. Finally, it became obvious to both Freddie and the image that the song was coming to a close as the music picked up in both ferocity and urgency. The image responded by launching itself backwards in the air. After staring at the image in disbelief, the boy's own response was to close the video file.

As the boy marveled over the dangers of modern dancing, he moved over to his bed and allowed his eyes to wander over the clothes he had painstakingly placed on top of it. His pillows lay beneath a plain white undershirt and a blue-striped, white pair of boxer shorts. More towards the center he had placed a sea green, button-front, dress shirt stylized with random, stitched, jungle green, flame-like shapes. A pair of black, fitted, pinstripe pants complete with a non-descript deep brown dress belt was pressed and folded directly next to the shirt. He would match the items with the dark suede sports jacket and the brown, smooth leather loafers that waited in the closet next to the door out of his apartment.

Everything looked to be in order so the boy slowly crept towards the bathroom. Normally taking a shower in his own house did not require stealth, but Freddie was trying to pull off mission impossible: get to the dance without letting his mom know about it. He felt slightly bad about keeping her in the dark. He knew that his mother would be ecstatic to see her son off to the dance, but he also knew from personal, painful experience that his mother's enthusiasm tended to cause him more harm than good.

The teenager made it to the bathroom and began his shower without any problems. The shower turned out to be a fast, tension filled affair since throughout the entire shower all of his senses were tuned to the rest of the apartment. After cleansing himself to his own satisfaction he stepped out of the shower, wrapped the lower half of his body in a towel, and opened the bathroom door gingerly. His head escaping the room along with a heavy mist, he peeked up and down the hallway twice before tiptoeing out and beginning the long creep back into his room.

He had managed about three steps before he heard the familiar, dreaded sound of slipper wearing feet rapidly shuffling towards him. Although he could not stop a horrified screech from escaping his lips, he had learned from countless horror movies to not waste time turning around to confirm he was being chased. Instead he kept his eyes locked on his bedroom door as he bolted down the hallway, his feet kicking wildly through the air.

Sam's feet kicked lightly as they dangled off of the edge of the bed. She was sitting in Carly's bedroom watching some boring television program about forensic scientists investigating the death of some old cat lady. A set of commercials had just started, so Sam peeled her eyes off of the television and secretly watched Carly as she applied makeup to her face. It looked like such an unnecessarily long process to Sam. Carly would spend entire television programs painting her face with expensive products that would only be washed off in a handful of hours, when she could be doing something more productive. You know, like watching television.

As Carly carefully applied the medium shade of eyeliner to the crease above her eyes, she noticed in the mirror that she had managed to capture Sam's attention. There was a vacant look of interest and wonder on Sam's face as she tried to watch her friend from the corner of her eyes. A small smile formed on Carly's lips as she called out, "Watching something good?"

A slight stiffening of her body gave away the fact that she had been caught in an act of subterfuge. Hoping that Carly hadn't caught on, she forced her eyes back on the television screen and quickly answered, "It's alright. I think the kids did it." In her peripheral vision she noticed Carly stand up from her chair and steadily approach her. Still clinging to her initial hope, she half-heartedly complained, "Kids are so rotten nowadays."

There was a teasing lilt to Carly's voice as she said, "You're really one to talk there, Sam."

Sam turned towards her friend with a fake expression of hurt painted on her face. "Just what do you mean by that?" As she looked at her friend dead on, she found that Carly was holding up a small box of make-up next to her face. The expression of hurt converted to one of suspicion as she asked, "What are you doing with that?"

Carly ignored her question for a second as her eyes bounced back and forth between the container and Sam's face. Once she seemed to have made a decision, she finally said, "I'm trying to decide what color of concealer would best match your skin tone."

Sam jumped backwards, retreating to a farther corner of the bed. As she moved she grabbed one of Carly's pillows and held it up as an impromptu barrier. From behind the pillow, she growled in a low, threatening tone, "We've been over this before, Carly. Make-up and I do not mix well together." Hearing the make-up container snap shut, Sam slowly let down the pillow.

When Carly came back into view, she was standing with her hands on her hips and her head cocked to her left side. The brunette girl's eyes scanned up and down Sam's body leisurely, the predatory quality of her eyes making Sam uncomfortable enough to again equip her pillow shield. From behind the pillow, Sam heard Carly ask, "Do you sweat a lot?"

"No!" answered Sam quickly. Seconds after giving her answer she realized that perhaps victims of hyperhydrosis couldn't wear make-up. Upon conceiving that thought, she immediately revised her answer to, "Actually, I sweat like a pig. It's ridiculous. I have to wear three undershirts to soak it all up." Carly didn't say anything in response, so she felt comfortable enough to again lower the pillow.

Carly was standing over her friend, squinting at the box with a frustrated frown on her face. "I can't seem to make out what this says," she complained. Her eyes shifted from the container to her friend as she asked, "What does it look like to you?" As she asked the question, she turned the box towards Sam and held it out at arm's length.

Sam scooted forward close enough to read the words, which were in a rather small print. As her eyes focused on the words, she read out loud, "All powders contained within are water-proof." Just as she read the last word, Carly pressed a button on the box and the cover shot open revealing four different shades of concealer and a mirror. Sam's eyes rapidly shot from the mirror to Carly's face. A mischievous smile had taken up residence there, and her eyes were gazing hungrily at her. "Carly. Carly, no," commanded the blonde with a slight quivering of her voice.

"Just a little bit, Sam," assured Carly with a tone that promised a lot more than the words' definitions suggested. "You have a tiny blemish on your right cheek."

Sam crawled backwards remarkably quickly, so much so that she was backed up against the wall before she even realized she had begun moving. Carly had knelt onto the bed by then and was steadily moving towards her. The brunette girl was dipping some kind of sponge into the container in a move that seemed almost menacing. As she raised it up in the air and slowly began to move it towards her face, Sam again held the pillow between herself and Carly as she shrieked, "Nooooo!"

The powder puff connected with nothing but air as Freddie dodged his mother's attack effortlessly. He was used to his mother trying to apply makeup to him in preparation for events like award ceremonies, dates, and stepping out of the apartment. He had developed a sixth sense for the powder puff and was able to feel it coming from any angle. It was a shame that sense didn't carry over to things that Sam threw at him.

Her plan to apply foundation to her son's face again thwarted, Mrs. Benson turned her attention towards the clothes that lay on the bed. The colors were a little strong for her liking, but at least everything matched and was properly pressed. Her Freddie was such a neat boy. "Freddie," she said out loud as a thought struck her. "Aren't these clothes a little extravagant for a trip to the mall?"

Freddie kept his mouth shut. She had assumed he was going to the mall without any input from him after busting down his door and seeing the clothes on the bed. Hopefully she would push herself back onto that assumption if he continued to keep his mouth shut. After all, if he was incapable of lying to his friends, then the very possibility of lying to his mother did not exist.

His mother destroyed his dream of leaving hassle free with one sentence, "Freddie, you're not going to the mall, are you?"

The boy took a deep breath to calm him down before saying slowly, "Mom, you have to promise not to freak out." His mother nodded quickly, but Freddie could see an excited glimmer in her eye. Still speaking at a tortoise-like pace, he stated, "I'm going to a dance at my school."

It was impossible to read the expression on Mrs. Benson's face for the mere fact that the woman's emotions were tearing her in an infinite number of emotional directions. One side of her wanted to scold the boy for not allowing her to prepare for the event properly. Another side wanted to scoop him up in her arms and twirl him around the room for escaping the lure of his computer. Then there was the facet of her personality that was critically analyzing how well he had cleaned himself in the shower. And yet another part of her was tossing together possible outfits to replace the ones on the bed.

His mother caught in emotional limbo, Freddie found it surprisingly easy to gently push her outside of the room so that he could change. He was just about to close the door on her when she regained enough control over herself to ask, "Do you have a date?"

Grimacing, he made sure that the door was just about to close before he answered, "Yes." The sound of the door closing was soon overwhelmed by a shriek of excitement. He could hear his mother galloping down the hallway, probably to call his grandmother on the phone and brag that Freddie was going to a dance with someone other than his first cousin Stephanie. Shaking his head, he picked up the underwear off of his bed and began to dress himself.

He was in the process of buttoning up his shirt when he heard a knock on the door. "What is it, Mom?" called Freddie cautiously.

"Do you need me to drive you to pick the young girl up, Freddie?" she asked sweetly, her voice slightly muffled by the locked door. "I know you probably agreed to meet at the school, but this way you could have a few more minutes with your date and I could scree … meet her."

"No need, Mom," assured Freddie loudly. "She's right across the hall." There was another squeal from behind the doorway, followed by an extended silence. Realizing that his mother probably thought he was going with Carly, he immediately called out, "Mom, I'm not going with Carly. I'm going with Sam."

Having not heard the sound of his mother attempting to bash down the doorway or faint dead away, Freddie received a bad premonition of things to come. "Mom?" he called as he approached his bedroom door. After not hearing an answer, he ran towards the door and flung it open. His mother was nowhere to be found. Groaning, Freddie jumped out of his room, ready to sprint to Carly's apartment. Before he sped off, he made sure to slam his bedroom door shut.

The refrigerator door closed with a loud bang that caused Carly to jump off of her seat at the counter. "Spencer!" she shouted. "I told you not to slam that door!"

"I would have loved to comply with that desire, dear Sister," assured Spencer as he waddled past Carly, his arms loaded with sandwich making supplies. "Unfortunately, as you can see, I'm a little encumbered at the moment."

Carly sighed and sat back down on the stool, watching as her brother concocted whatever sandwich suited his whims. Apparently there were quite a few whims floating around him today. In addition to the traditional loaf of bread, sandwich meat, and cheese, Spencer had pulled out a banana, an apple, some bleu cheese dressing, peanut butter, ice cream, and soy sauce. Hoping that her brother was planning on preparing more than just a sandwich but knowing in her heart that he was not, she watched on in morbid fascination.

As Spencer began peeling the skin off of the apple with a knife, he asked, "So I'm bringing you and Sam to the school and picking you up whenever you call me, right?"

While her mind began to predict what the sandwich was going to look like when Spencer was finished, Carly corrected, "Actually, Freddie is coming with us too."

Spencer stopped the peeling of the apple to look up at his sister with a surprised grin. "You guys have Freddie coming to something like a dance? That's a first." His attention returned to the apple as he offhandedly asked, "Did you promise to dance with him or something?"

Carly leaned toward her brother conspiratorially and said in a loud whisper, "He's actually going with Sam."

The young adult looked up from his apple in absolute shock. His eyebrows were raised high and his smile was so large that his mouth was forced open. Carly couldn't hold back her laughter when Spencer had on that silly face. Luckily, or unluckily depending on which Shea sibling you were at the moment, the face didn't last long since Spencer had continued to cut the apple through his shock. The expression disappeared into a pained frown as he quietly put down the apple and the knife and began to look for the kitchen's supply of bandages.

While her brother rummaged through the cabinets, Carly hopped off of her stool and picked up on the apple where Spencer had left off. Having found the bandages, Spencer went through the difficult motion of applying the bandage one handed. As he carefully attached an adhesive surface of the bandage to his finger, he commented, "It's about time those two started going out." Carly's face shot up once she heard her brother's words. Spencer nearly missed his finger with the other arm of the bandage when he noticed the warning glare she was shooting at him. "They're not going out, huh?" he asked abashedly.

"I think they're this close," predicted Carly, putting about an inch of space between her right thumb and pointer finger.

"They've been that close for forever," complained the recently patched up guardian. He moved back to the counter and began peeling the banana.

Carly nodded her agreement with her brother before adding in, "I think they're finally becoming aware of it, though." She had finished peeling the apple, so she held it up and asked, "Do you need me to do anything else with it?"

"Slices, Carly," commanded Spencer. "Cut it into really thick slices."

Raising her eyebrow, she complied easily. "You know, it would be cool if you could like check the status of their relationship for me," she said offhandedly.

"You want me to ask if they're going out or something?" Spencer asked as he began laying chunks of banana on a slice of rye bread.

"Kind of. Be more subtle," she said as she handed him the slices of apple. Accepting the slices, Spencer sprinkled the apple over the bananas. Carly further clarified, "Try to gauge how excited they are about going to the dance together."

"Gotcha," assured Spencer as he picked up the container of soy sauce and began dousing the fruits. Noticing the look of horror on his sister's face, he raised an eyebrow at her and asked, "Haven't you ever heard of sweet and sour pork?" Carly somehow managed to nod. Spencer gave a nod of his own towards his creation and dubbed it, "This is sweet and sour fruits."

Carly's groan was interrupted by a ringing of the doorbell. A quick glance at the clock told her that it wasn't Freddie since they weren't due to gather together for another half hour and he was impossibly impeccable when it came to meeting times. Peeking at her brother out of the corner of her eyes, she asked, "Are you expecting someone, Spencer?" Spencer shook his head negatively. Shrugging her shoulders lightly, she hopped off of her stool and called over her shoulder, "I'll get it, then." Upon opening the door, she was greeted with the sight of Mrs. Benson, who appeared to be on the verge of tears. "Mrs. Benson, are you alright? Did something happen to Freddie?" she asked worriedly.

Mrs. Benson lunged towards Carly with the speed of a tiger, enveloping her in her arms and holding her close. The shocked teenager heard the woman tearfully whisper in her ear, "I'm so happy to hear that you're going to join our family."

Unsure if detaching herself would be consider an act of extreme rudeness, Carly croaked out through Ms. Benson's lung collapsing hug, "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't be shy, Carly. I know you're going to the dance with Freddie," said Mrs. Benson, finally releasing Carly so that she could have a good look at her future daughter-in-law. She looked a little blue at the moment, but she was still as pretty as she remembered her. She was going to produce such beautiful grandchildren.

As Mrs. Benson stood there daydreaming about bouncing good looking grandchildren on her lap and Carly furiously thought up a way to let her down easily, Freddie's voice called out from beyond the doorway, "Mom, I'm not going to the dance with Carly."

While Carly breathed a sigh of relief, Mrs. Benson wheeled around and confusedly asked, "Then who are you going with?" She turned around to look into the room for Freddie's date. Other than Carly, there was only one other person she could see. A look of absolute horror hijacked her face as she tentatively pleaded, "Not Spencer. Oh God Freddie, please."

There was a moment of silence while all of the people in the room held their faces in their hands: Mrs. Benson had been overtaken by the feeling of horror, Freddie was hiding the flaming redness that was igniting his face, Carly was trying her hardest not to burst into laughter, and Spencer was attempting to remember whether or not he had purchased any A-1 sauce.

Freddie was the first to recover. His face was still burning red, but he was able to answer, "I'm going to the dance with Sam, Mom."

"Sam?" asked Mrs. Benson as she recovered from her terror. Quickly putting together the face with the name, she questioned Carly, "Your best friend, the tomboy?" After Carly nodded affirmatively, Mrs. Benson turned towards her son and placed her hands on his shoulders. Once they had made eye contact, she asked with a quivering voice, "Did she bully you into this, Freddie?"

"No, Mom," answered Freddie dryly. "I asked her."

Mrs. Benson swallowed hard before calling over her shoulder, "Oh my God, look what you've done to my son, Carly." She trapped Freddie in a bear hug before finishing, "The loneliness has driven my poor boy insane."

Carly could no longer hold back the laughter, so she retreated to the couch and let it all out. Her laughter was so loud that Sam, who had been upstairs debating whether to keep or wash off the make-up that Carly had painstakingly applied to her face, decided to go downstairs and check what all the commotion was about. Amidst the peals of laughter emanating from Carly, Mrs. Benson continued her interrogation. "Why did you ask her, Freddie?"

"She's one of my friends, Mom," he explained as calmly as he could while he struggled for air.

Mrs. Benson stared at her child incredulously before insistently asking, "Would a friend of yours ruin at least one pair of your underwear a week?"

"Mom!" Freddie cried exasperatedly as Carly fell victim to a fresh round of giggles. "You don't understand, she's …" he struggled a moment to remember what Germy had said earlier. As he wrestled with his memory, the elevator door opened, Sam stepped out, and Freddie unconsciously whispered, "gorgeous."

Sam Puckett's appearance was the direct result of constant nudging over the period of three hours by Carly Shea. Sam had shown up at the Shea residence dressed in what she had worn to school and was planning to stay that way until she went to bed that night. Upon entering Carly's bedroom, however, Carly just happened to find an old dress in her closet that would fit her. Once Sam had agreed to put it on, she had begun to slide down a slippery slope in which Carly bombarded her with items that she could borrow for the night. The ride had ended with Carly painting her face with what felt like a pound of make-up.

Freddie had the uncomfortably guilty pleasure of seeing the finished product of Carly's labor. Sam's hair was held up in a messy chignon, with a stray lock of hair escaping the updo to frame the right side of her face. The make-up Carly had painstakingly applied to Sam served to cover the minor imperfections on her face as well as to add further definition to her natural features. A sapphire panel front dress flowed over her lithe frame and came down to her lower thighs. The simple dress was sparingly decorated with caviar beads in a floral pattern that began at her shoulders and expanded as it came to the hem of the skirt and a black, velvet sash which wrapped underneath the bustline and finished in an elaborate bow on the back of the dress. Carly had iced her friend with silver jewelry; a small charm bracelet dangling from her right wrist, a short necklace with pearl beads, and a pair of pearl stud earrings. Her feet were resting in a trendy pair of white, soft leather loafers that had a 1 ½" heel and a black buckle towards the toes.

Again there was a moment of silence in the room as Sam assessed the situation of the room and everyone else gawked at her. The first to break the silence this time was Mrs. Benson, who edged closer to Carly and asked skeptically, "That's the tomboy?"

Carly flashed a full grin at Mrs. Benson before acknowledging, "I know, I was kind of surprised, too." She noticed with a start that Mrs. Benson was again tearing up. Fresh memories of slowly being crushed to death forced her to put her hands up in self defense.

Luckily for Carly's ribs, Mrs. Benson just cheerily stated, "My son is so perceptive to see that pretty girl underneath all of the dirt and brutality." That being said, she moved over to the kitchen to reward herself for raising such a perceptive son with a little bit of the ice cream that Spencer was currently scooping on top of a slice of American cheese.

Sam walked towards Freddie, her right eyebrow raised high above her eye. The movement snapped Freddie out of his enthrallment, allowing him to at least attempt some intelligent conversation. As she pulled within arms length of him, he managed to say, "You look amazing, Sam."

Freddie sobered up immediately when he noticed that Sam's face was prominently displaying the smirk that she reserved for his most humiliating moments. She teasingly replied, "You look underdressed, Freddie." A quick peek down confirmed the girl's words. He had been in such a rush to stop his mother that he had forgotten a very important part of his outfit: his pants.

Sighing heavily, he looked back up at Sam's face and asked seriously, "I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

Sam shook her head happily as she firmly replied, "Never."

"Hey, are you two going out now?" called Spencer as he dumped one last packet of soy sauce on his sandwich for good measure.

Carly, who had been rewarding herself for beautifying Sam with a cup of ice cream, immediately stomped on Spencer's foot and furiously whispered, "Spencer, I said subtle!"

At the other end of the room, in total synchronization Sam and Freddie flushed a similar shade of deep red, turned towards Spencer, and shouted at the top of their lungs, "No!"

"I think you two will make some nice looking kids together," called a voice behind Carly. The girl wheeled around, ready to stuff the sandwich deep into Spencer's throat while she lectured him on the definition of subtlety. To her surprise, the comment had come from Freddie's mom, who was cheerily scooping some Rocky Road into her mouth. A stupefied look on her face, Carly could only manage an astounded, "Mrs. Benson?"

Sam was petrified by feelings of embarrassment and horror, but Freddie, who was used to his mother's embarrassing comments, quickly moved to the counter, grabbed his mother's right elbow, and began escorting her out of the room. As they crossed the threshold of the front door, Freddie called out, "I'll be right back after I drop off my mom and pick up some pants."

Sam seemed to recover from her daze the moment that the front door shut and Mrs. Benson was out of hearing range. She marched towards the counter that the Shea siblings were seated at, wordlessly daring either one of them to say anything through glaring eyes. Spencer didn't have time to accept Sam's dare since he had begun eating his sandwich, and judging from his first couple of bites it would be an hour long affair. Carly kept her mouth shut like a good friend, but a hint of a smile was tickling the corner of her mouth.

Sam sat at the counter trapped in a catch 22: she didn't want either of the two siblings to bother her about what Mrs. Benson said, yet she needed somebody to lash out at to relieve her stress. It would have been great to have Freddie around. He would do something stupid, she would make fun of him, and she would feel on top of the world again. That was their perpetual routine, an unending verbal dance of give and take. In an hour they would be dancing physically, and she guiltily found that she was looking forward to it.

After taking an inventory of the table, she found only one food group suitable for her current emotional state. Grabbing a spoon and the entire container of ice cream, Sam proceeded to scoop the confection into her mouth.

The car ride to the school had been an awkward trip. As they were loading into Spencer's beat up automobile, Carly had made sure to claim shotgun to leave Sam and Freddie sitting together at the back. After five minutes of complete silence, Carly began constructing conversations. Unfortunately, neither of her friends seemed to be in a talkative mood, each of them answering her questions tersely as their eyes focused on things outside of the car. Upon giving up, Carly turned up the music slightly louder. Spencer looked over at his sister and found that she seemed to have disappeared into her worried thoughts. For the rest of the car ride, her arms were crossed against her chest and she lightly chewed on her lower lip.

They arrived at the school without incident, and as soon as the car stopped both Sam and Freddie quickly thanked Spencer for the ride and exited out of their respective side doors. Carly had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't realized that the car had stopped, so Spencer nudged his little sister with his right elbow.

Carly awoke with a start, figuring out where she was only after she looked around. "Sorry about that," she apologized as she removed her seatbelt. "I was thinking a little hard." She was about to exit the car when she felt Spencer's hand on her shoulder. Looking back at her brother, she noticed he was wearing his rarely shown serious face.

"Carly, you're doing a good thing," he assured her. "Just don't push it so hard. It's not like they're going to have an epiphany all of a sudden," he said as he took a good look at Sam and Freddie who were awkwardly waiting for Carly on the sidewalk. "Subtlety, remember?"

A large smile appeared on Carly's face in reaction to Spencer's words. "If I'm being lectured in subtlety by you, Spencer, I must be going over the top."

Spencer returned her smile, indicating a miniscule space between his right thumb and pointer finger as he confirmed, "Just a little bit."

"Alright, thanks Spencer," said Carly as she stepped outside of the car feeling reinvigorated. After closing the car door, she joined her two friends and they walked towards the school together.

Almost immediately after entering the building, Carly spotted her date. "See you guys inside," said Carly as she jogged over to the tall, dark haired teenager. Freddie and Sam watched in utter silence as they embraced lightly and began to converse. The conversation lasted until Carly's date removed two tickets from his pants pocket and indicated a direction towards the gym with a wave of his arm. As they began to walk away, Carly grabbed his hand and they both beamed at each other.

A few moments were spent in uncomfortable silence, neither of the two teenagers having the courage to look at each other. Sam was the first one to finally speak, asking quietly, "You brought the tickets, right?"

Freddie fumbled through his pockets before producing the two stiff strips of paper. He attempted to imitate the wave that Carly's date had done, but the nervous feeling in his stomach embellished the motion to more of a curtsy.

Sam stifled a snicker, nudging the boy in the ribs with her elbow as she moved past him towards the gymnasium. As Freddie jogged to catch up to her, he noticed her left hand swinging lightly at her side. Once he was side by side with her, he nervously asked, "Should, should we hold hands?"

Sam's face jerked towards the boy's direction. The expression was blank, but Freddie seemed to see the hint of a blush on her cheeks. Perhaps it was just make-up. In an imperious tone, Sam stated, "You are not allowed to touch me unless I say so, dork."

Normally any boy would feel downhearted at being put down in such a manner, but for some reason Sam's words made him feel more at ease. This felt far more natural to the two of them. Grinning widely, he shot back, "That's a relief. I would probably cut up my hand holding your claw."

Sam's face melted into a smirk as she replied, "You wish you would be so lucky."

Thus, though the distance between the two hadn't changed since they left the apartment building, they felt exceedingly more comfortable with each step they took towards the dance. After a ticket taking teacher had checked their student IDs and accepted their tickets, they began to approach the wide open, double doors of the gym. The speakers were already blasting the song "Just the Girl" by The Click Five in poor fidelity as loudly as they possibly could, and a small spattering of students were on the floor dancing as best as they knew how.

Freddie noticed that Sam had fallen behind slightly. He knew she had just said something he couldn't quite hear over the music, so he walked back to her, pulling his head in close to hers as he loudly asked, "What did you say?"

Sam's eyes were looking away from his, and the blush that was gracing her cheeks was deeper than the one he had witnessed earlier. In a louder voice, she repeated, "So!"

Freddie didn't quite understand what she meant until she sighed exasperatedly and extended her left hand towards him. As he gingerly took her hand in his, the blush that was on Sam's face magically transferred to his own.

They were about to enter the gym hand in hand when Freddie moved his head in close to Sam's ear and laughingly teased, "You know, for a beast, you can be pretty corny." Sam's free right hand shot over like a bullet and gave him a good punch on his upper arm.

And so they entered the gym: Sam beaming happily as she dragged Freddie along, and Freddie clutching his right arm in pain.