Freddie first noticed her when he started first grade. She was a second grader, but they shared the same lunch. She was sitting alone at a table chewing on a piece of cold fried chicken. An open can of Peppy Cola sat next to the plastic bag that served as her lunchbox. Freddie was intrigued by her. He rarely saw kids eating alone (other than himself), so he was immediately drawn to her, and he was a little concerned at her unhealthy meal.

Freddie started watching her at lunch. She never had a balanced meal, and it usually seemed to be cobbled together from leftovers or a strange assortment of foods that just happened to be lying around. She also never spoke to anyone else. Then again, the other kids never seemed to even notice her. It was like she existed in an alternate reality that was unseen by the human eye. They would walk past her, never looking in her direction. Kids at least acknowledged Freddie--it was usually to call him names or to try to get him in trouble, but at least he existed to them. He couldn't say the same about this poor girl. He decided he should try to be her friend.

He started by approaching her, but when he said "hi" to her one day she just looked at him briefly and then proceeded to ignore him. When he asked if he could sit with her she got up and moved to a different table. He didn't take it too personally, though. He had a feeling she would act like that with everyone, seeing as how no one ever really got close to her. Nevertheless, he decided to give up on Operation Befriend-the-Lonely-Unhealthy-Food-Girl.

A couple days later, though, he realized he may have an opportunity to offer his friendship. He saw Mrs. Reynolds talking to the girl about the food she was bringing to school. She was threatening to call home if there was no change in the second grader's lunches. Freddie noticed the girl was looking a little scared. He didn't know what her home life was like, but by the look on her face it would be hard for her to find more wholesome lunches, and it seemed as if she'd rather avoid the situation altogether. The next day, to help her out, he gave her some of the food from his lunch. He just left it at her usual table. As she was eating a few minutes later Freddie noticed Mrs. Reynolds eyeing her with a look of satisfaction.

It made him happy that he had found a way to be a friend to this girl, so he started bringing extra food to school whenever he could; two apples, an extra sandwich. It took a while to convince his mom he needed more food for lunch, until she caught on to her son's real reasons.

One day after school as she was picking up Freddie she had to honk to get his attention. He was staring after a girl with long blonde hair that was climbing into the front seat of a dirty pick-up truck that looked older than it should, driven by a woman who looked far too young to have a child. When Freddie heard the honk he watched the old pick-up drive off as he climbed into the safe backseat of his mom's car.

"Hello Fredward. How was school today?"

"Fine," five-year-old Freddie responded. Followed by a heavy silence as he stared out the window.

"Who was that girl you were watching?"

"Nobody," Freddie answered, "Just a girl I see at lunch. I don't think her mom takes very good care of her."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, she lets her have potato chips for lunch everyday. And she never gives her any fruits or vegetables."

The next day Mrs. Benson packed two lunches in Freddie's Galaxy Wars lunchbox, along with a note: "Giving is living. I love you Fredward, Mom." For much of first grade at least a couple times a week Freddie would bring extra food for Sam. He would either slip it to her at lunch or he'd sneak it into her locker (which was conveniently right across the hall from his own and which was clearly labeled with her name "Samantha." Although he was quick to notice the "antha" was crossed out with a simple line-through). Occasionally he'd find a couple of cookies or a bag of chips in his locker in exchange for his offerings. He and Sam never spoke, but they seemed to have a weird kind of friendship. As odd as it was, it was one of the healthiest relationships Freddie had ever had.

The food sharing continued when Freddie entered second grade and Sam entered third. Freddie also noticed that Sam began acting as a kind of bodyguard. Occasionally when kids would start picking on him, Sam would do something to distract the perps. One particularly memorable occasion was during recess. While playing kickball two kids were goading Freddie about his latest clothing choice. He tried to ignore them as he focused on his job as second baseman. They didn't let up. He tried to defend himself. It made it worse. Suddenly one of them got hit square in the head with a kickball and fell, pained, to the ground. Freddie and the other meanie turned to see where the ball had come from only to see Sam running to first base.

"Are you okay?" The nearest teacher ran directly to the fallen student and sent him with the other meanie to the nurse's office. He then turned back to Sam, now standing on first base.

"Sorry." She offered. "I didn't mean to."

Freddie just thanked his lucky stars her miskick landed so serendipitously. Then he remembered, despite Sam being kind of a loner and other students often avoiding her, she was always picked first whenever anyone played kickball. Not only could she kick hard, but she had great aim. Wherever the ball landed, she meant for it to land there. Apparently Sam had wanted that particular ball to land near Jimmy Hawkins' right eye. The thought made Freddie smile. Even if no one would admit to being his friend, at least he had someone tough looking out for him.

That year for Valentine's Day Freddie's class had a sub for the full week after Ms. Nelson, their regular teacher, was at a teaching conference. Miss Cindy was new to teaching and wasn't aware of the age-old elementary school Valentine's Day rule which states that if anyone wants to hand out Valentines, they have to give them to everyone. The kids enjoyed this oversight on the part of their substitute and gave out cards only to those they deemed worthy. That meant Freddie got nothing. Not only did his classmates keep all their cards from him, they also tormented him for the Valentine cards he still, bravely, placed in everyone else's bags. They were home-made and included sugar-free lollipops and filled up the garbage can as quickly as Freddie had passed them out.

The exchanging of Valentines happened in the morning, so it wasn't hard for Sam to notice what had happened to her personal little caterer when, at lunch, she saw all the other first graders sitting around with Valentines and red and pink candy and Freddie sitting alone at a table with nothing but a sugar-free lollipop shaped like a heart. Sam hadn't brought any Valentines, but when she noticed Freddie hadn't gotten any she felt bad for the kid, and she set out to cheer him up. When she went back to class she found a piece of green construction paper and cut out a heart. She drew some pictures of food items around the edge, and then she started writing a message. She had only gotten "Freddie" down when some kids started looking over her shoulder.

"You're making a card for that little loser first-grader?"

"No, it's not serious," she defended.

The kids continued to watch her, laughing. She didn't intend to write anything too crazy. Just something like "Happy Valentine's Day" or "Thanks for the food." Something that wasn't mushy or even emotional, but so the poor kid would have something to take home--so he didn't think he was a complete failure at life. But now, with so many people watching her, Sam knew she would have to make it mean or make it nothing at all. She jotted down the first rude thing that popped into her head, "I hate you." She then signed her name. The kids around her started laughing, but now with her instead of at her.

When recess came the kids gathered to follow Sam out to the playground.

"We want to see you give him the card."

"Yeah. I bet he'll cry."

Sam didn't know what to do. She stuffed the Valentine into her pocket and walked out to recess. Immediately upon getting outside, one of Sam's instigators spotted little Freddie sitting alone on the swing, drawing lines in the sand with his feet.

"Freddie!" another third grader yelled.

Freddie looked up to find the source of the voice. "Yeah?" He cautiously yelled in return.

"Sam got you a Valentine."

One of the kids pointed at Sam and pushed her towards the swing where Freddie sat. She slowly approached him as Freddie rose from the swing and stepped toward the girl he had come to think of as his unspoken friend. Sam looked him in the face briefly and then quickly, like pulling off a band-aid, handed him the un-Valentine and then braced herself as he excitedly opened it. As soon as Freddie read the message, his face immediately dropped and his eyes started to water. He was confused. Why would Sam go to so much trouble just to be mean to someone who had been so nice to her? And he thought she considered herself a friend of his! He looked up at her to make sense of it. She was looking at her feet and at the bottom of the swing set, and she looked a little like she wanted to vomit. Freddie, hurt and embarrassed by the pointing and laughing of the bigger third graders, and flabbergasted by what Sam had just handed him, ran to the other side of the playground to lean against the school building in his favorite corner, where he was protected by two sides from the prying eyes and hurtful words of others. Freddie opened the card and looked at it again. The message didn't change. When he looked up, he saw Sam watching him from the corner of the kickball field. He only saw her for a moment before she ran back to the jungle gym, but he swore she looked sad.

The next day, Freddie didn't bring any food for Sam. But he did find two packages of his favorite mini cookies sitting in his locker with a post-it note that said, simply, "sorry. I didn't mean it that way." When he found the gift, he glanced at Sam who was grabbing her coat from her locker across the hall. She smiled apologetically, and he hesitantly smiled back. He slipped the cookies into his backpack and headed home.

That night as he ate his cookies Freddie considered what that note could have meant. How else can you mean "I hate you?" As far as Freddie knew, there was only one translation. But as he thought back to the snacks she'd given him and the times she'd stood up for him (although not publicly), he believed her that she wasn't trying to be mean. He still didn't completely understand the note, but he figured if she didn't mean it that way, he wouldn't either.

The next day Freddie brought a full meal for Sam which he put in her locker the moment he got to school. When it came time for lunch Sam excitedly sat down with hers. She was happy to discover her favorite sandwich (tuna, at the time), and a banana (her favorite self-packaged fruit). She took one bite of the sandwich before she noticed a note written on the side of the bag in Freddie's uneven scrawl, "I hate you, too." Freddie saw her smile before she returned her attention to the sandwich.