I had spent the greater part of the day trying to forget the conversation I had with Tucker. It seemed that the two of us had been fighting more and more lately and I had no idea why. He had issues with the way I was treating Sam – I suppose that was fair; if I saw him being a dick to a girl, I would probably say something – but Tucker didn't fully understand my position. He wasn't a halfa. He didn't understand the complications of having a double life. And speaking of lives … Tucker had been so damn bitter about the life we were leading. He hated when I mentioned the fact that, once, we had been low dogs on the totem pole and despised it. He had been romanticizing, hinting at how nice it had been when no one we knew was a bitch or a liar.
I figured it had something to do with the fact that this was our last year of high school. Tucker had always been the more emotional one out of the two of us and I wouldn't be surprised if he would become gooey by the end from revisiting the beginning. I, for one, didn't give a shit. I was living the high life now and there was no reason the high life would be over once I graduated. And I didn't miss the painful day to day life of my early teen years.
I spread out my arms, sweeping along the air. Sam's roof came into view and I frowned when I realized she was sitting on it. I hated her doing that – I liked to think of Sam as cautious, but to be honest; I didn't think she was as careful as I wanted to believe. I headed toward her, prepared myself to chastise her, and then I realized she was crying.
"Sam? What are you doing?" That had to be the most stupid question to ask at this very moment.
"Crying," she sniffed, rubbing at her face and making it bright red.
"Why?" I asked, already getting the sinking feeling that I knew.
I had made her cry. Me; Paullina; Tucker; Starr – the entire useless group of us had made her cry. It wasn't right and I knew that. I had consciously known that as I was doing it. But complying with Paullina's demands and seeing the consequences of them were two completely different things.
"I fucking hate people."
And then she started bawling all over again.
I didn't know what to say; I didn't know what to do. I wanted to hold her and wipe away her tears but I didn't think I would be allowed. Sure, I had lain next to her last night for a brief moment when she had been nearly nude but she had asked for it – intoxicated or not. But I didn't think that I had the right to touch her now; the right to hold her. Especially as I had a hand in putting her in this state.
"I don't understand. But whatever it is, it'll be okay. High school doesn't last forever."
"Bitches do!" Sam growled, surprising me with her ferocity. "No matter where I go, I am destined to be hated."
My heart ached for her. I knew what that felt like – to walk into a room and feel like everyone in there hated you; to feel like you would never escape judgmental looks; to hear the soul wrenching insults as you walked down the hallway.
"That can't be true," I soothed. Someone like Sam couldn't be hated everywhere. It was just in Amity, where Paullina reigned with in iron face that she was in trouble. Anywhere else, surrounded by people with half a brain, Sam would be loved.
"Yes it can! I have never been liked. I have always been the weird kid. I fought for my individuality and I am so happy with myself, but there are times when all those cookie cutter clones are pointing at me with their snide remarks. It shouldn't hurt but it does and all I can think of is how much easier life would be if I was exactly like them."
My mind whirled; thinking of something to say to her that wouldn't sound like a cliché. "Life isn't easy for anyone. Everyone has their flaws and faults; you're already ahead of the game by accepting yourself for who you are. I can think of only one teenage girl who can say that. Whatever you do, Sam, you will go far. I can feel it."
Her lips trembled as she glanced at me. "Did you get a psychic power too?"
"No. I just know you." And I smiled as I realized it was true; I did know her. I knew how to cheer her up; I knew how to make it all better for her. And I was so happy that I could do that. "Probably better than you realize. Because I know how determined you are, how fierce. I know how passionate you about the environment and who you are. Someday you will be an inspiration to millions of people and where will Paullina be, do you think? Doling out her inherited money for the best age reversing technology out there?"
I didn't know if bringing up Paullina was the best thing – for her or me. But I knew that Sam had probably compared herself to Paullina at one point or another – as ludicrous as it was. And she had to know that she could make more of herself than Paullina could ever aspire too. As for me; well, hearing the truth fly out of my own lips was painful. That probably was all Paullina would amount to, did I really want to stick around for that?
"She could do something with her life too," Sam murmured.
"Of course," I said, but I disagreed. That was just how Sam was – she wanted to see the best in people, even when there wasn't any. I hoped that this would work in my favour in case I ever had to show her the dark sides of me. "But she is so wrapped up in her beauty right now; her physical beauty. She has yet to embrace that she has depth and dreams beyond a pretty face. You already have."
I knew I was kidding myself with those words. Paullina had nothing past her pretty face and she would never bother to look further. I wanted to believe that Paullina had depth – after all, there had to be something more I saw in her than her heart stopping beauty, but at the moment, I couldn't think of what that might be.
"I'm not pretty," Sam protested.
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," I quoted. She may not see herself as beautiful but I could name at least one other person who did.
Sam stared at me but her tears began to dry.
I held out my hand to her. "Now, can I take you inside where it's warm?"
A mischievous glint entered her eye as she asked, "Are we going to end up in bed again?"
"There's the girl I know," I laughed. "Come on."
She put her hand in my own and then I fazed us both through the roof. As soon as we hit the warm air, Sam began to shiver. I grabbed a blanket off the end of her bed and wrapped it securely around her. She gratefully gathered it around her, sinking into it.
"Do you want to tell me about it?" I offered, hoping that she would say no. I knew that she would bring me up – the other me – and I didn't know if I could handle her hating me. Yes, it was what I wanted, and yes, it made sense, but something about it was starting to feel wrong.
"I've mentioned Fenton to you before?"
My gut tugged. Here we go. "I believe so. He's a jerk, yes?"
"A huge ass hat," Sam agreed.
I couldn't help but burst into laughter at the absurd insult.
"What's so funny?"
"Did you just call someone an ass hat?" I asked, continuing to laugh.
"It's a perfectly acceptable insult," Sam growled but she was laughing too.
"So what did the ass hat do today?" I asked. Somehow, by saying 'ass hat' instead of my own name, made everything easier; that wasn't really me and my choices that we were discussing, it was someone else entirely – some stupid ass hat.
"Well it started off with him and this guy, Tucker, insinuating that I was a prostitute in front of a bunch of people. They made me feel horrible; because that's attacking who I am, which they don't know at all. I am a virgin. I've never even been kissed. It would probably be more accurate to call them prostitutes. Don't the popular guys always have a lot of sex?"
The fact that she'd never even been kissed made me feel even worse about liking her. Who was I, a liar, to want something so pure?
She was wrong about one thing though: the popular guys didn't always have a lot of sex. I'd had sex once.
"I've never been one of those guys," I said. And it was partially true: Phantom had never been one of those guys.
"That's how my day started. My day ended with my car being covered in drawings and photos of multiple dicks being glued –glued- to my car and 'suck it whore' being spray painted on the side. It was like that when I came out. I have no idea who did it but I would bet you any money that Fentass did it! I don't know why they hate me. Why am I so hate-able?"
I looked down onto her tear-stained face and I wanted to tell her so many things. I wanted to tell her that I should have stopped the damage to her car, but I didn't do it. It was a few wanna-be's who were trying to get on Paullina and Dash's good side. I wanted to tell her that she was in no way hate-able; that the popular crowd was ruthless to outsiders and that Paullina's jealousy overruled everything else.
But I could only tell her a small portion of that.
I pulled her in my arms, hoping that she would feel better from the physical contact. She clung to me, and I had to remind myself that this moment wasn't about how it felt to have her next to me; to feel her warmth.
"You're not hate-able," I murmured, twirling one hand in her hair. "I don't hate you."
I hoped that was enough.
(-.-)
"You look upset."
"I am not in the mood for psychobabble, Jazz."
"I am your sister. I can help in that regard."
I sighed, peeking at her from over the top of my pillow. "Come in."
"So," Jazz prompted after seating herself on my desk chair. "Talk to me."
And to my surprise, I did. I told her all about Sam, the gory details with Paullina, my decision to completely separate my two identities (something I'd never thought about before; despite Phantom being a secret to the general public, I had always been him and he had always been me), and Tucker's anger lately.
"Oh, Danny," Jazz shook her head sadly. "What kind of a mess have you gotten yourself in?"
"It's not a mess! It's my life. And I don't understand why it's falling apart all of a sudden."
"I think it's because you're having a crisis of identity-"
I interrupted her. "I've been two people since I was fourteen. That's almost four years now. If I was going to have a crisis of identity, wouldn't it have happened when I first transformed?"
Jazz pursed her lips. "I would appreciate not being interrupted."
"Sorry, Jazz," I mumbled.
"I don't think it's an identity problem concerning Phantom. I think it's an identity problem concerning you. You've got to admit, you're very different than you were two years ago."
"You're blaming this on Paullina."
"I'm blaming this on you though I don't know if blame is the right word. I think you just need to realize what you want and I think you need to be okay with the fact that what you want isn't necessarily what you thought it was."
"You sound like Tucker," I moaned, deciding to hide under my blanket. "You're not being helpful."
"Or you're being thick-headed, unlike Tucker who seems to be spouting something intelligent for once."
"Urgh!"
I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my beta: foreversky.
~TLL~
