Aquarius

How Many Jocks Does it Take to Screw in a Lightbulb?

One - He Holds it Up in the Air and the World Revolves Around Him

I'm not afraid of burning bridges
'Cause I know they're gonna light my way
Like a Phoenix, from the ashes
Welcome to the future it's a new day

Bon Jovi

Sam's third period math class, shocker, played out much the same way as her history class – except her math teacher, Ms. Newcan, actually forced them all to do math after the class was through interrogating the poor ghost who so happened to find himself in Sam's class.

He was that blond boy Sam saw that morning. Apparently his name was Johnny Thrighten, but most everyone called him Johnny Thirteen. He claimed it was because he had a bad case of rotten luck back in the Ghost Zone, and gained a name for himself, but said nothing else about it. He soon retreated to the back of the room, sullen and brooding, and Sam fought the urge to apologize for her classmates.

See, unlike Jazz Fenton, Johnny Thighten - or Thirteen - didn't have that same gift of charisma the redheaded girl had. With Johnny, it seemed that you either hated him or put up with him – there really was no "liking him" in the scenario. That being said, the Mob members in the class decided it was their time to take shots at the kid like gunfire in wartime, asking these ridiculous questions and asserting these ludicrous notions about government conspiracies and the ghost's possible plans for the planet. Did they come to Earth to colonize? Boot the humans out of their homes and take over? Load the humans into a rocket they were constructing in the Ghost Zone and launch it into the sun?

That particular question gained more laughs than anything else and the student responsible for asking flushed bright red and looked like he wanted to get up and leave right then and there. Sam would have happily asked him to turn in his badge and scat for asking something so stupid, if she didn't already know he did it on a dare. Even still, Sam wanted to throw the thickheaded boy out a window but at least Johnny had the good graces to laugh and play along - saying that's totally their plan and while they're at it, they might as well knock over the flag on the moon and put up their own.

He commented wistfully about roads without speed limits and speed traps, and that gained more than a few chuckles and longing sighs from various students in the class (including Sam herself). Overall, he didn't look like he wanted friends, and Sam guessed she could respect that. He was introverted in nature, and uncomfortable being among humans, probably.

For the rest of class, the students quietly worked on their Pre-Calculus homework for that night, however Sam found that she was done long before anyone else.

Sam had a tutor in the hospital, and they covered this material long ago. It was second nature to her now, and she would have signed up for regular Calculus, but Valerie's incredulous looks talked her out of it. It wasn't that Sam was discouraged from taking it, but she tended to forget her limitations, and Valerie took no shame in reminding Sam of the fact that Sam herself hated math.

Unsure of what to do now, she decided to listen to music. Sam didn't spot anyone she knew in the class, and she wasn't sure she wanted to make conversation with the select few who were through with their work.

"Sam Manson?" Someone whispered in her ear.

Sam jumped and whirled around in her seat, causing more than one student to look in her direction. Her shock surfaced as a glare aimed in the direction of whoever said her name behind her. That is, until she recognized the offender.

"Kwan Lee?" Sam whispered in response. There was something about the silence in which the students worked that made her want to stay quiet as well.

"In the flesh," Kwan whispered with a playful smile. "Sam! How are you? It's been a while."

It has been a while, hasn't it? Kwan used to be friends with Sam and Tucker in elementary school, but Kwan was always closer to Dash Baxter, the main school bully. Kwan would hang out with the two whenever he could, but ultimately, Dash took the spot as his first priority. But Kwan was a nice person, and Sam enjoyed his friendship for as long as it lasted.

Kwan has certainly grown since the last time Sam's seen him. The physical changes on all these people she's known before were just another painful reminder of how long she's been gone. He was bigger now; he looked much more like a buff football player rather than the scrawny, Asian-decent nerd she knew before. His black hair was shorter too, she noticed, and styled to one side but cut in a way that vaguely resembled something more militaristic.

Kwan was good-looking, and it looked like puberty certainly did him some remarkable favors.

"It has." Sam finally responded when she realized that he was waiting. "How long's it been, six years? Seven?"

"Something like that." Kwan muttered. "Where did you go? You dropped off the face of the planet, lots of people thought you moved."

"That's a new one," Sam stifled a chuckle. "I didn't move, it's a long story, now's not the best time."

"Later, though," Kwan grinned. "I feel so out of the loop, is this your first day back?"

"One hell of a first day." Sam sighed, thinking of everything that's happened, particularly from last period, and from that chat with Jazz. Not to mention... the implications of everything the ghost told her. Sam shuddered at the thought.

By now, the students that were done took Sam and Kwan's lead and began picking up various conversations around them, and the eventual dull roar of the voices circulating throughout the room allowed Sam and Kwan to drop the whispering and carry on their discussion like normal people.

"You could say that again," Kwan said. "I mean out of all days for you to finally come to Casper High, it's gotta be on the most chaotic day of the year." Seeming to realize what he said, Kwan's eyes jumped over to the corner of the room. Sam followed his line of sight and saw, with a sense of relief, that Johnny Thrighten wasn't even giving them the slightest ounce of attention. In fact, he seemed to be doing just what Sam planned on doing mere minutes ago – listening to music through these obnoxiously large headphones with bright green skulls glaring out from either side.

"Certainly makes for an interesting first day back." Sam responded, turning her attention back to Kwan. "Did you talk to any of them yet?"

Kwan looked at her with a mixture of shock and horror. "Are you kidding me? 'Corse not!" Sam blinked at the solidity of his tone. She was expecting the opposite answer out of him – Kwan Lee was the most open-minded person Sam knew. "I know you're new," he continued, "but APGIP doesn't have a very solid popular opinion. Personally, I'd love to get to know them. Their culture and their language fascinate me but talking to one of them and being friendly to them is like committing social suicide." His tone dropped considerably as he finished his statement.

Oh, Sam thought, so that's what this was about. This wasn't the Kwan Lee Sam knew in elementary school talking, was it? This wasn't the same kid who asked Sam what the best way to impress Tucker was, after admitting to her of his longtime crush on her childhood best friend.

This was someone different entirely. The Kwan Lee Sam knew would have jumped at the chance to meet anyone who wasn't from this planet. He used to talk about ghosts like the way kids would normally talk about celebrities.

This teenager, well, she could tell by the way his cynical and judgmental eyes roamed over her blatantly Gothic-styled clothing and out-of-fashion pale skin that he had to bite his tongue so he wouldn't say anything rude. But Sam was waiting for it.

Still though, Sam found it in herself to be civil to the boy, if only out of respect for their past.

"Social suicide?" Sam asked, trying not to cringe too much as the words fell from her lips. "You think it would be social suicide to talk to some newbies? What did they ever do to you?"

"They didn't do anything to me," Kwan said defensively, raising his hands in the air in the universal "don't shoot" kind of way, "But I like where I'm at on the social ladder, and I don't want to get knocked off because Dash and Paullina caught me talking to some hot—" Kwan caught himself. "Some alien."

Sam sighed and glanced at the clock. Oh, good, class was almost over. "Well," she said, "Have fun with your social ladder, high school hierarchy bullshit, Kwan." She thought for a moment before saying, in a lower tone, "I would tell you to pull your head out of your own ass and get your goddamn logic straight, but I'm going to restrain myself out of respect for the fact that we used to be great friends in elementary school." Sam cocked her head to the side at seeing Kwan's shell-shocked expression. "Oh, I did say it, didn't I? Oops." She shrugged. "But you weren't going to be friends with me anyway, were you? You seem to be part of some A-list club; I can't imagine what being friends with a Goth would do to that spiffy position."

The bell rang, and it couldn't have happened at a better time. Sam grabbed her stuff and slung her bag over her shoulder. Kwan was still seated, staring at her. "The Kwan Lee I went to elementary school with would have killed for this to happen at his school," She made her statements fairly general, because she was pretty sure Johnny was in earshot and no longer listening to music.

Sam scoffed and made her way out of the room. "I guess people change," She said over her shoulder, leaving Kwan in the dust.

As she was leaving the classroom, she failed to notice the awestruck look of confusion that crossed Johnny Thirteen's face after hearing her tangent.

If it wasn't painfully clear before, it might as well have been in writing now. Life at Casper High was about to get a whole hell of a lot more interesting for everyone involved.

"Man, I thought class would never end," Tucker stated when Sam met up with him by his locker before lunch. "I never thought Calculus BC could be so boring."

Sam did a double take. "You're in Calculus BC?" She asked, dumbstruck. "Do you have a death wish?"

"I'm starting think so," Tucker groaned, covering his face with his hands.

"And here I thought Pre-Calc was tiring." Sam muttered. "Let me guess," she continued, "you were thinking too much about food and aliens to focus."

"The fatal combination," Tucker sighed. "The Dynamic Duo. The Typical Twosome. The Particular Pair. The Combustible Couple. The—"

"You made your point," Sam interrupted, but she was smiling. "And you need to stop reading so many comic books."

The look on Tucker's face was simply scandalized. "I'd never!" He proclaimed with a dramatic gasp.

Sam rolled her eyes as the two made their way to the cafeteria, weaving through the horde of students who were thinking the same thing.

Finally, the two came in view of one of the many tall, chrome-finished pillars scattered throughout the cafeteria.

It had a touchscreen menu, listing food items and information along with the price. Sam analyzed it and, after scanning her standard-issue Casper High ID she was given a few days before, quickly chose the most appetizing-looking salad they offered. Sam almost jumped three feet in the air when a small compartment she didn't see before melted out of the silvery-material of the pillar, and presented her with her salad.

Furrowing her dark eyebrows, Sam carefully took the salad container out of the compartment and watched in confusion as the compartment melted right back into the pillar as if it were never there.

Sam held the salad container carefully, as if it were about to explode. "What happened to regular vending machines?" She asked herself, turning around to face Tucker, who was standing behind her. To her displeasure, she found that he was laughing at her.

"You've never seen one of these before?" Tucker asked her as he walked up to the touchscreen. He tapped on the menu, bringing up the burger choices, then the meatloaf choices, then back to the burger choices.

"No…" Sam muttered, watching as Tucker scrolled through all the different burger options until he found what looked like the meatiest sandwich that ever dared call itself a sandwich. It looked like a pulled-pork burger with bacon and who-knows-what-else on it, but all Sam saw was dead animals.

To her chagrin, Tucker placed that monstrosity as his order.

"What the hell did you just order?" Sam asked, fighting to keep the disgust off her face. She didn't manage to keep it out of her voice though, but she didn't really care.

"Heaven on a bun," Tucker retorted. He glanced at the salad in her hand and gave her a look. "Don't tell me you're one of those diehard save-the-animals vegans, are you, Sam?"

"It's ultra-recyclo-vegetarian, Tucker." Sam said. "And that," she gestured to the boxed burger and fries combination Tucker was holding, "Is a disgusting violation of nature."

Tucker scoffed as the two moved away from the "vending machine" so other people could use it. "Come on, Sam, you're making shit up. Ultra-recyclo-vegetarian? How is that even real? Next you'll be telling me you work undercover for PETA."

Now it was Sam's turn to look scandalized. "PETA!?" She exclaimed. "That disgusting excuse of an environmental organization does nothing other than objectify and insult women and that is not what I stand for."

"I'm glad we're on the same page," Tucker said. He gestured to her with his monstrosity of a boxed-up sandwich. "For your information, Sam, meat provides us with essential nutrients we need."

"Nothing a couple of vitamin supplements can't solve, Tucker," Sam countered with a scoff. "What we need is to stop killing innocent animals just because they taste good."

"It's not like I'm eating a polar bear! They don't have Siberian tigers on the menu!" Tucker exclaimed. "I'm not going to destroy the planet by eating this burger. If anything, you're destroying the planet by eating trees."

"You might not be destroying the planet," Sam said, "But you probably destroyed a pig's family, somewhere. You're eating someone's child, how does that make you feel?"

"Pretty good actually," Tucker said, and Sam was appalled. "Because I know those piggy parents you're so concerned about wanted their little piglets to achieve great things." He pushed that god-forsaken boxed-up sandwich into Sam's face and she reeled backwards. "Like this sandwich." Tucker continued. "It takes a legendary pig to make a legendary sandwich."

"If you're trying to justify murder, it's not working." Sam said, crossing her arms.

"I'm not justifying murder," Tucker defended. "I'm just saying that it was for a good—"

"Foley-o!" Someone cut Tucker off suddenly. It was a nasal voice, and immediately Sam resisted the urge to rip whoever said her friend's name's tongue out. To put it simply, it was one of those voices you could only hear a few minutes of a day without losing your sanity.

"—Cause." Tucker finished lamely. He looked physically deflated. Tucker turned around and Sam followed suit, not even realizing that the two had wondered into a more condensed part of the cafeteria. Sam glanced around for a brief moment, attempting to get her bearings.

Then, she saw the source of the disturbance.

Glaring down at the two teenagers and self-appointed social outcasts was none other than Dash Baxter. Sam knew it was him because he certainly hasn't changed much since the last time she saw him. He was attractive, sure; with military-styled blond hair, deep blue eyes, and a frame that vaguely resembled that of a linebacker, but that was about all he had going for him.

It took Sam a moment before she realized he wasn't talking to Tucker anymore. His attention had meandered onto her, and he was waiting for some kind of response.

"Excuse me?" Sam asked, forcing her tone to become harsher.

"I said," Dash snapped impatiently. Apparently he didn't like being ignored.

But damn, did his voice irritate her.

"What do you think you're doing in my cafeteria, Goth?" He pretty much spat the words in her face.

"Your cafeteria?" Sam asked. From Dash's side, or his "blind spot," as one could put it, Sam caught Tucker giving her the "Dash will slit your throat" sign.

Sam rolled her eyes. She wasn't about to let some entitled brat intimidate her.

"Where's the deed?" Sam asked. "You got a contract? How about a lease?" She huffed. "Please. Tucker and I can be wherever the hell we want. Now, do you mind?" She gestured for him to leave, but she didn't think that was going to happen. Nope, definitely not, since Kwan and some other red-haired, meat-headed football came up behind Dash as a sort of posse or backup.

"I do mind, actually," Dash smirked. "So, Tucker," The blond jock reared on the techno-geek. "Think you can waltz into my school thinking you can do whatever you want just 'cause you've got a ballsy girlfriend?"

"I'm not his girlfriend!" Sam exploded before Tucker could respond.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Tucker added helpfully.

"Oh yeah?" Dash asked, turning back to Sam. Something changed in his demeanor suddenly, but Sam couldn't place just what. "Then whose girlfriend are you, sweet cheeks?"

In that moment, Sam thought for sure she was going to throw up. Was Dash-Fucking-Baxter hitting on her?

"I'm nobody's girlfriend, dunderhead, and I'm not your sweet cheeks." The last two words came out as a scoff. "Plus," She added, "Like I'd ever go for you." Dash's face turned a darker shade of red than it already was.

But the offended expression that adorned his face washed away. "No need to be stubborn, um," He halted in his speech, giving her a questioning look.

Sam wanted to groan. Loudly. Somebody had to be playing some kind of cruel joke on her – she hasn't changed that much since fifth grade.

"Sam." She grumbled.

Dash's eyes widened, "Sam? As in Sam Manson?" His eyes roamed her up and down, and Sam had the sudden urge to get away from him. "Wow," He started, grinning. "Didn't think you'd ever turn out so… fine, babe."

"Excuse me?" Sam demanded. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Ouch," Dash said, "Language much? It's unattractive to cuss, babe."

Sam glared at the jock. Oh, he did not want to have this conversation with Sam.

She could see the color drain from Tucker's face. Oh, he seemed to remember what a pain in the ass Sam could be when she wanted to.

Sam crossed her arms, planting her feet into an unrelenting stance. "Oh? It's unattractive to cuss?" Her eyes narrowed into a glare. "How about I fucking cuss as much as I fucking want?" It took everything Sam had not to go off. She didn't want to create a bigger scene than they were already creating.

Dash looked taken aback at first, and then he glared. "I don't think you get it, princess. This is my school, this is my cafeteria, and we're—" he gestured to the two jocks behind him, Kwan looking apologetic and the other guy looking indifferent, "—in charge around here. If you don't approve of the way things work in this joint," He raised an eyebrow, his eyes gaining a wolfish gleam that made Sam shudder. "Then you'll have to take it up with me. Privately. You got that, babe?"

Oh, if Sam wasn't seeing red before, she was now. "You wanna know what I got?" Sam asked, taking a step closer to him. She stood on her toes and got right in the jock's face, nearly nose to nose. Her face was a feral mask of anger, and her words came out in low, distinctive growls.

However, she didn't know that her voice dipped onto a level Dash – and anyone else who was listening – almost couldn't hear. They could see the Goth's lips moving, but the words produced in that statement were patchy and rough, and their ears strained to pick it up because on some level they knew she was actually speaking, as opposed to just mouthing. Trouble is, they couldn't hear her.

"I got," She continued, "That you're an entitled imbecile who can't talk his way out of a paper bag." She grinned, pulling away and speaking in a slightly louder tone. "Do you want to know what else I got?" She winked at the pale and sick-looking Tucker, standing off to Dash's right. "I got a pair of industrial-grade, steel-toed combat boots. And if you don't leave me and my friend here the fuck alone, I will shove my boot so far up your ass that your dentist will be finding pieces of steel lodged between your teeth for weeks." She glared at him for a moment, allowing the information to sink in and permitting her expression to convey that she was not kidding. Finally, in a low voice, Sam said with an evil grin, "You got that, babe?"

Without waiting for his inevitable retort, she brushed past him and grabbed an awestruck Tucker by the arm. "Let's go, Tuck," She said, as the two walked out of the cafeteria. She heard the shuffling of feet behind her, but she heard Kwan's voice telling Dash to let it go.

"I've had enough stupidity for one day." Sam muttered, and the two looked for a place to continue eating their lunches, however different they may have been, in peace.

A/N: I kind of imagine Sam to be a super stubborn, loudmouthed person with absolutely no filter, which is why she can't babysit.

I'm hinting at more plot line things! eek! By the way, that interaction with Sam and Dash was fun to write. I'm also incorporating several of my headcanons into this fic, they're pretty easy to figure out. If you track the dp tag on tumblr, some of these headcanons won't look new to you.

Anyway! That was the chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! I'm positive you'll review on your way out, so I don't even need to ask. Because my readers are the best and know exactly what to do! Yeah!

I'm sure you'll do it. Certain of it.

Peace

Rookey