With the upcoming prom hanging overhead like a rather menacing wasp nest and her crush alienated (and possibly even alien abducted) due to Sammi having implied that his mother was a llama, Sammi was really in need of some distraction. Unfortunately, Pyro was still nowhere to be found, and the only thing Kyo wanted to talk about was loud sounds, flowerpots with daisies in them, and how terrifying the loch ness monster really is. In other words, he was absolutely no help. However, talking to Kyo did give Sammi some new ideas for conversation topics and pick up lines she could use.
Doing her homework near the swings behind the school after class one afternoon, Sammi stopped to check her phone and saw a message from the drama club. They needed someone to give a monologue, but nobody wanted to do it because it sounded too boring. Sammi didn't mind boring, and agreed to give the speech.
When she got to the place she was meant to give the speech, Sammi saw that the audience was absolutely full of movie people. Supporting actors, second unit directors, producers, several background extras and best boys as well. She knew some of them, because she by now knew most of the people in Bridgeport that were involved in the film industry.
Suddenly, it seemed like the worst idea in the world to be doing this. Sammi didn't even have a topic to talk about, she had not planned any of this at all, because she'd assumed there was a prepared script or something. But no, she was just thrown onto the stage in front of all these people. The microphone in front of her was too low, she was just wearing her blue jeans and plain green t-shirt, and everyone was staring, waiting for her... and she had absolutely nothing to say.
What could she, in her ordinary experiences, have to offer to these people? Everything about just about everything had already been said. Sunsets had been described in more words than Sammi even knew, and by people who'd actually gone to school as children instead of making muffins in a library. She wished now that she had attended more drama and debate classes, so maybe she could say something clever about one by using what she'd learned from the other. But hadn't that already been done? Hadn't everything already been done? Was it even possible she -a mere teenager- could have anything to say to all these adults who had spent their lives painting pictures with words and acting and music and camera angles and props the nature of which Sammi couldn't even begin to imagine?
Closing her eyes, she tried to remember something -anything- that she had ever talked about in her life. She'd told most of the stories she had to Pyro, and she didn't want to just tell those stories again, trying to modify them as she went to conceal the fact that they'd been made for her imaginary friend (how embarrassing would it be to say Pyro's name up on stage?). Suddenly, she remembered that she had wanted to tell Pyro about her day at the beach, but he hadn't been around so she'd stored it up for a later time. The picture now clear in her mind, she opened her eyes, and began to talk about it.
"There is a pristine beach across the bridge, but I have never been there. But I have been to a beach, one in practical driving distance from my house," she paused because someone in the front row was chuckling, then she went on, "This beach is larger from what I've been told, but there is less of a feeling of-" and here Sammi used one of the ten simoleon words she had learned so she could teach it to Kyo, "-ataraxia than one would experience at a more beautiful beach, where the ocean is cleaner and less oily."
There was some murmuring over that word. Nobody seemed sure what it meant. Sammi smiled inwardly at her own cleverness and went on, her confidence growing with each word.
"The road leading to that little cove beach goes right past the hospital, you can see it in the rear view almost all the way down the hill," The hospital was the only building view, which had seemed somehow very ominous, but Sammi didn't say so, "Just past the hospital, the road dips down steeply, and it feels like you'll just dive off a cliff. It keeps sloping steeply downward like that and winds in this really excessive S-curve," she drew an air picture of the road with her hands, now getting into her speech, "The road terminates abruptly for no apparent reason a long way from the beach, and then you have to go down this long concrete path that's just as curvy as the road itself."
"The day I went there was very warm, and the sky was clear, and there was a lot less smog than usual. Then, as I went around this big curve in the path, I could suddenly see the slick, dark water of the ocean. And, beyond that, the bridge after which our fair city is named. I had never seen the bridge before. It seems to stretch across all of space, suspended by nothing except for dreams," and perhaps smog.
"Once I was down on the smooth sand of the beach, I could see the high rises of Bridgeport across the water. I'd never seen them from a distance. They seem smaller viewed from a beach, and more exciting," instead of merely being objects in the way of driving from one place to another. On the beach that day, she could forget the fact that inside these buildings were tiny apartments, ugly bars and poorly lit discos and dance clubs that all had the same smell of cheap juice and people who never bathed, "The world seemed to open up there as I watched, and there was promise in it. Promise, and possibilities I had never even considered before." Like taking fishing and writing classes she didn't need.
"The water was warm and very nice-" despite the fact that it was oily and dark, "-and once I got to swimming-" she forgot about how ugly it was because she was too busy experiencing it to bother looking at it, "-I really found myself enjoying the feel of the ocean water and of course the fantastic view of our lovely city. I met several people at the beach, all of whom were just there to have a good time. They wanted to swim and build sandcastles-" instead of ordering another round of drinks before dancing like a perfect spaz until they passed out unconscious on the floor "-I didn't even ask what they did for a living, because it had seemed more appropriate to talk about the relative warmth and sunniness of the day instead."
"Because the warm day turned into a cool, clear evening, I decided to jog home. The trip up the hill was extremely hard work, but I enjoyed every minute of it. I loved being able to see the water and the bridge and the city in the distance, and-" she decided to try another obscure word on the audience, one which would give any spell check an aneurysm, "-the psithrurism of the trees was a very pleasant sound. I even liked the hospital coming into view as I neared the top of the incline because it told me the hard part was over," By then, she was tired, and so she reached into her infinite storage invisible backpack, pulled out her car and drove home. She decided not to mention that, either.
When Sammi had finished describing all of this and then describing it again in greater detail, the audience stood up and applauded as if they had never heard anything more thrilling in their lives. Sammi assumed they were humoring her, but as she made her way to the exit, Matthew Hamming stopped her and wordlessly handed her a signed poster of the first picture he had ever starred in The Wolf of Smuggler's Cove.
It might have seemed conceited, but the reality was that large portions of the movie had been filmed in that cove, and it had taken its name from the picture. Prior to the picture's filming, the beach had been so little known that it didn't even have a name. Sammi did not question why Matthew had this poster on his person, she was just happy to have it, even if she wasn't a fan of the old movie and it never showed in theaters.
Matthew Hamming might have been a putz, but he apparently could be generous too.
Accomplishing the speech and consequently thinking about that day at the beach made Sammi feel good, almost as if she could do absolutely anything if she wanted to. Her impact on the film community was so significant that the movie theater promised never to charge her for tickets again.
That was good, because she had heretofore been unable to afford to go to the movies.
Now she could even bring a friend and it wouldn't cost her a thing. And all because she'd spent an hour talking about her day at the beach and how much she had enjoyed it.