So, I would just like to thank people who are still with me here. I guess the break I took was one day too long, and some readers are getting a little antsy:) NO PROBLEM it happens all the time. I just really, really, hope I don't keep you waiting for nothing but disappointment. I know I'm not the BEST writer in the world but I really have a passion for it and I've been told I'm pretty decent. So, stay with me here...if you can.
SPOV
I walk into the locker room and pass the line of changing girls, all the way to Coach Millimyer's office. I knock on the door and she approaches, her hair ratty and bags under her eyes. She raises an eyebrow at me.
"Why aren't you dressed out?" She spits at me. If I didn't know any better, like, say if I was some sort of exchange student and I was new to Ridgway, and I somehow sparked a conversation with Coach Millimyer, I would think she's the most inconsiderate, ungrateful, moody person I had ever met. But we all know better then this, those of us at Ridgway who have known her long enough.
We know that if Coach ever acts hostile towards you, it usually isn't your fault. She has informed us multiple times that she is trying to handle her hard-knock life of being a coach and a gym teacher at a high school, a part time nurse, a single mother of three and in constant battle with her ex-husband for property. And I thought my life was hard.
"Wow Coach! You look absolutely gourgeous today! Did you do something with your hair?" I asked sarcastically, the same question I ask her whenever I want something. She squints her eyes at me and studies me for a moment.
"What is it this time, Puckett? The Measles? Insomnia?" She asks, naming off some of the previous excuses I have used to weasel out of PE.
"Nope. Just my simple gift of the month." I state, handing her a doctors note signed by Freddie Benson himself. She studies it, looks at me again with those slitted eyes, then looks back at the note.
"You don't think you can surpass one volleyball game?" She asks me. Oh, how I despise that wretched game. It's not the game, really. I mean the game in itself is a very fun and promising way to get fit. But it's playing it in PE that is the worst part. This is the only time all those nerds I've been bullying and the girls I talk about behind their backs and everyone else in my class who hates me, can pelt me with a never ending supply of rubber and air. You know, for dorks, those wannabe diva's and genius tech nerds have pretty good arms.
"I don't think I can handle it today Coach." I wince and hold onto my stomach as if I'm in great pain. "Cramps." She nods, understanding, and nods towards the exit of the locker room, my cue to freedom. I silently thank her and rush out of the locker room, heading right for the nurses office.
Carly twirled her ten year old body around in her brand new pink and yellow sun dress. She faced me and asked for my opinion. I told her she looked fine and Carly smiled and nodded approvingly. Her smile soon disappeared, though, when she finally noticed what I was wearing.
"You're not seriously going like that, are you?" She asked me, scrunching her nose like she smelled something funny.
"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I asked her, looking down at my pajama pants and Seattle Seahawks sweatshirt.
"Nothing if we were going to a sleepover!" She said, and waved her hand up and down at my ensemble. I sighed and rolled my eyes.
"The invitation said to be there, not to dress nice. It's not like I'm gonna waist my energy getting all doll'ed up for a party being hosted by Freddie Benson." I turned to her mirror and started to pick at my face. This was when I had sprouted my first zit. I was an early bloomer, considering I had already 'become a women' a few months back after receiving my 'monthly gift', so it didn't surprise my mom when she noticed the blemish. It sure surprised the crap out of me when I saw it.
Carly sighed and said something under her breath that I wasn't interested enough in to understand. When we got to the McDonald's Play Place, a stereotypical birthday location for 4th graders, along side Chuck E. Cheeses, there was a fair amount of kids running around in party hats and blowing party favors. We sang happy birthday to Freddie, and ate a really good chocolate cake. We played in the large indoor playground and received our gift baskets.
Suddenly, I had noticed, there was a line made of an assortment of kids that lead up to Freddie Benson and his mom. I figured it was some sort of 'happy birthday!' 'thanks for coming!' 'let's get out of here' sort of thing. I joined Carly at the end of the line and we started rummaging through our gift baskets.
Soon, there were only about two or three kids in front of us. Carly and I had been blowing party favors in each others ears for about 10 minutes now, but to be polite, we stopped as we got closer to the birthday boy. When there were two girls in front of us, and I saw the first girl give Freddie a sloppy kiss on the cheek and hug Ms. Benson, I couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"Ha! What a loser!" I yelled to Carly, but she just shook her head at me with big, round eyes, signalling me to shut up. It was then that I realized, this line wasn't just a hi-by exchange, but, again for politeness, girls were supposed to give Freddie a 'birthday kiss' on the cheek. Guys, I guessed, were to give him some sort of firm shake on the hand or something. My face turned blood red and I tried to escape but Carly pulled me back by the hood of my sweatshirt and soon I found myself gazing up at Freddie Benson and his mother. She flashed me a huge grin and patted me on the head, then was tapped on the shoulder by an adult and left me and Freddie (and Carly), standing there drowning in never ending awkward.
"Uhh. Hi." I said to him, nervous. He just stared at me with wide eyes. Boys are so clueless. Stupid boys.
I couldn't kiss him on the cheek, that was like, major. For a 4th grader it was at least. Only boyfriends and girlfriends kiss eachother. Spencer had once told me and Carly, when he had caught us smooching a magazine picture of a young Justin Timberlake. My hands were shaking and I avoided looking at Freddie's face, although he had no problem looking at mine, still staring at me with those big, now 11 year old eyes.
"Hey. Thanks for coming to my party." Freddie finally spoke to me, still looking straight at me as if there wasn't any awkwardness. "S-Sorry about not inviting you earlier. I-I kinda lost your card..." He was lying and I was sure of it. Gosh, he was such a boy. I didn't want to come anyway. Not to his party. Boy parties are stupid anyway. And boys are gross, with their boogers and burping and sticking their fingers in their ears. Stupid boys. Plus, I didn't want people to think I liked him or anything. It's not that I was afraid of people thinking I had cooties or something, I just didn't want people to think I liked a nerd.
"Yeah. No problem. It's no biggie." I said, starting to lose the awkward feeling and gain an angrier one.
"So..." Freddie said, putting his hand on the back of his neck. Aha! So he did think it was awkward! I felt proud for breaking his poker face.
"Look, Benson. Let's just get this over with, yeah?" I asked him. He nodded and I sighed. I shut my eyes and pursed my lips. I slowly got closer to his cheek, but unfortunately, instead of his cheek, I landed on......his nose. The second it happened both of our eyes snapped open and we stared at each other, faces just inches apart. He opened his mouth to say something, but it shut just as quick.
Now that I'm older and I look back, I laugh, because kissing a boy on the nose doesn't really seem any different from kissing them on the cheek, right? Wrong. Well, for a 4th grader it was. For a 4th grader, kissing a boy on the cheek was already a huge deal. For a 4th grader, a lot of things that don't seem like anything to worry about, are extremely important. Anyway, kissing a boy on the nose? Only a few centimeters away from his lips? That was just about as close to making out as it got.
"Uhh...oops?" I faked a laugh and then without another word, I sprinted away from him, right out of McDonald's Play Place. I did manage to look back before I exited, to see a wide eyed Carly and a confused looking Freddie staring after me. But looking back always slows you down, so I kept my eyes on the prize. The bicycle at the end of the block.
When I approached the bike, I picked up a rock and banged at the chain and lock until it fell to the ground. Looking back again, I saw Spencer dash out of McDonald's and point at me, Carly and Ms. Benson hot on his heels. When they started running towards me, I took this as my cue to get the heck out of there, and I did just that.
It wasn't my first time stealing something, psh, yeah right. It was, however, my first time riding a bike, but surprisingly, I didn't miss a beat. I was like a pro. I pedaled as hard as my little feet could, and finally reached the entrance of a small building. It had just opened a few days ago, it said so on a sign in the window. I noticed another sign, this time on the door, and it was hand written in large letters with permanent marker.
"Smoothie Bar." I read out loud. I slowly stepped off the bike and went inside. The door dinged and a young, college age, African American guy greeted me, and introduced himself as Thaddeus Bordon.
"But most people call me T-Bo." T-Bo smiled and wiped down the counter he was standing behind. I walked over to it and stood opposite of him, on the other side.
"What is this place?" I asked T-Bo. He laughed and rested his elbows on the counter, so his face would meet mine.
"This? Oh, this is a magical land where magical things happen." My eyes grew wide with curiosity.
"What kind of things?" T-Bo shrugged and returned to wiping down the counter.
"Sorry. It's a secret." He shrugged again. I didn't like this. I didn't like this at all. I pouted my lip and made my eyes as big as humanly possible, knowing he wouldn't be able to withstand the dreaded Puppy Dog Face.
"Alright, alright. Here. I'll tell you one thing." T-Bo said, finally giving in. He looked to the left, then the right, and cuped his hand around his mouth. "The magic only happens, when you're with your friends." He whispered into my ear. I scrunched my nose, confused.
"What do you mean?" I asked. He smirked at me and shrugged for the third time.
"You'll find out when you bring your friends here." He returned to cleaning the counter, this time humming an upbeat tune. I was mad, of course, because at that age, when you want something, you want it at that time, not later. But I wasn't that impatient of a child, so I shrugged it off.
"My mommy says I'm not aloud to go to bars, not even with her." I tell T-Bo. He stared at me, bemused.
"And what does that have to do with anything?" He asked me. I rolled my eyes, because it was only obvious.
"Duh! Smoothie bar?" T-Bo looked up at the ceiling, finally understanding what I was saying, then he laughed a warm, hardy laugh.
"Oh kiddo. This isn't a real bar, at least not with alcohol." I stared at him like he was crazy.
"Then why is it called that?" I asked him, then I bopped his head with my tiny hand, telling him it wasn't a very bright name choice. He laughed at my tiny gesture.
"Well, I just rented this place out a few weeks ago. See, it used to be a hair place, but it went out of business. I jumped for the chance, because I've been trying to prove to my moms that I have become a responsible adult ever since I left Seattle U. I just haven't really settled on a good name yet." I put my hand on my chin and stroked an imaginary beard like I used to always do when I was thinking really hard. T-Bo waited for my answer.
"You should change the name to something fun. Something that people will read and go 'Oh! Let's go there, it sounds cool!'" T-Bo considered it.
"And what do you suggest...uhh," He trails off and snaps his fingers. I wave my hand in dismissal.
"My names Samantha, but everyone who's smart calls me Sam." T-Bo nods and we sit in comfortable silence while brain storming on name ideas. I liked the feeling. I never got to name anything before. Not really. I mean, with a peewee baby, it has already got a name and an age. As if you're adopting it or something. But this, it was like my own child, mine and T-Bo's of course. I snapped back into reality when I finally got it.
"Got it!" I yelled, causing T-Bo to fly back and hold his chest, frightened. "Sorry. Okay. Get this. The Groovy...Smoothie." I took a second to let it sink in. Another silence fell upon us. I was so sure that my idea was stupid and that I had made a complete fool of myself, when suddenly, T-Bo slammed his hand onto the table.
"I love it!" He screamed. I silently asked him if he was sure and he nodded. He picked me up and stood me up on the top of the counter. "Welcome, Sam, to the Groovy Smoothie." I stood on the counter with pride, as if I had just climbed a mountain. It's sort of unfortunate, but that was one of the best times of my life that I can remember. I felt like I had power. Like I was somebody. I felt on top of the world. And no one, not Carly, not Spencer, not T-Bo, not even Freddie Benson, could bring me down. Suddenly, I felt large hands wrap around my waist and I was back on the ground, staring up at T-Bo.
"Sorry. I just cleaned the counter you know, and I don't want you to get mud on it or anything..." T-Bo smiled at me apologetically for ruining my moment, which he should have been sorry for by the way. I smiled back at him, then, realizing the time, I waved at him and left the Groovy Smoothie.
FPOV
What does it mean? Love. I mean, what does it mean, really? Does anyone really know? Or do they know, but they couldn't tell me if I asked them? I know what it means, I just can't explain it. Most people would probably say. But it's not the explanation we're all looking for, is it? It's the experience itself. We all want to experience love, one time or another. Only because of what we see on TV, or what our friends tell us it's like. But how do we know it's all great and wonderful? What if it's not? Everything has it's perks, it's benefits. But everything has it's flaws, too.
With love, you can feel an amazing sense of comfort and amenity. We feel safe and sound, like nothing can touch us. We are in a daze, another world, where there is no pain, no sorrow. But, when you think about it, when you really get down to it, isn't that all there is? Pain and sorrow and broken hearts and tears?
I wonder if there's a love doctor, who fixes broken hearts. If I was a love doctor, my patients would ask me: "How do you mend a broken heart?" And I would tell them that fixing them aren't in my power, for only the person who is heart broken themselves can mend it. When they chose to forgive the person. When they chose to forget. When they chose to move on.
If I could ask God one question, I would ask him if love is all it's cracked up to be. Or if it's just a dream, that only lasts until you awaken.
Why is he asking about love? Does he love Sam? OMG I have to text Kelly! Hold your horses. I never said I loved anyone. I have, in the past. Like Carly, for instance. For four years I was certain that I loved her, that she was mine and I was hers and we were meant to be together forever and live happily ever after. But I'm not sure I believe in all that anymore. I mean, some people are lucky to even live happily for a little while, right? People die of diseases and murder and old age. And the people they leave behind on the Earth die a slow death, caused by loneliness or depression. To wish for a happily ever after...it almost seems conceited. It's like wishing to live forever. It just won't happen. I came to this conclusion at around the same time I finally decided to confront my feelings for Carly. That it just won't happen.
So I'm not saying that I love Sam, or that I even like her. I'm just saying I'm open. To what? Change? Relationships? A football? Eh. Wrong. I'm open to anything. And maybe even anyone.
When the door to the nurses office burst open and Sam emerged from it, I couldn't help but grin. Why? I have no freaking idea. Maybe I was exited to pull the prank. Maybe I was just exited to see her. The fact of the matter is, I was happy, and from the look she gave me, she was too. Well, at least until she Saw my eye. That's when the smile faded from her face, and it was replaced by a look of worry and concern. Which worried me, because, Sam isn't usually concerned about me. At least I didn't think she was. But then, Sam doesn't think I care for her defense, and we all know that isn't true at all.
"What the Ham happened to you?" She asked me and reaches for my face to touch my black eye.
"I uhh, got into a little predicament." I said, trying (and failing) my best not to blush.
"Yeah no chiz! Did someone do this to you? Or did you just hit your face with your locker again?" Ahh. That sure brought back memories. Good times. Good times.
"Look, I'm fine. Just..." I glanced at the nurse, who was giving us the stink eye. I wasn't sure if this was a look of disdain, or a result of birth defects. Either way, it made me extremely uncomfortable. I turned back to Sam. "Just don't worry about it, okay?" Sam looked at me as if there was a giant octopus on my face.
"Um, no! You don't just sit there with a black eye and tell me not to worry about it! That makes me even more worried!" I knit my eyebrows, disbelieving.
"Really?" I asked her sarcastically. She rolled her eyes and sighed with impatience.
"Yes!" She yelled. I looked down, wondering what had come over her to actually cause her to feel empathy.
"Really?"I asked Sam again, I mean, truly asked. She gave me a look that was mixed with confusion and sympathy.
"Of course." She says quietly. Wow. I can't believe it. She wasn't fishing for a new way to torment me or something to make fun of me for. She actually felt genuine concern for me. I realize I am talking out loud when Sam laughs.
"What do you mean 'wow'? Freddie!" She laughs, because she thinks I'm joking. She stops, because she realizes I'm not. "Oh Freddie, you were serious?" I shrug. She gets tired of standing and gets on her knees so she is right at my eye level from where I'm sitting.
"Freddie why wouldn't you think...why wouldn't I care about you?" She asks me, as if it's so unusual for me to think anything of the sort.
"I-I don't know. I guess I just thought..." I trail off, because I'm not really sure what I think. When I think she's going to say something, she doesn't. Instead, she takes the ice pack the nurse gave me out of my hand and rests it back on my eye. When I look at her, surprised, she just smiles. That was all it took. I didn't have to say anything, because fortunately, Sam understood completely. Thank God. That was also all it took for my stomach to go all weird and gooey. I feel like someone released grasshoppers inside of it. I know right? Not as romantic as butterflies, but I was never really the romantic type anyway.
"So what are you in here for?" The nurse asks Sam, not very kindly. Sam realizes for the first time that we aren't the only two people in the room, and turns to her, startled.
"Oh...uhh...I..." She stutters. Sam must have forgotten her excuse. Which isn't good, because the nurse might send her back to class without one.
"Come so you could see your boyfriend?" The nurse points at me.
"Boyfriend?!" Sam and I cry at the same time. We both look at each other, a little bewildered at our simultaneous outburst. Then we turn back to the nurse.
"I'm not her boyfriend." I say, shaking my head. The nurse raises an eyebrow at us.
"And I didn't come here to see him...I came here because..." Sam blushes and looks at me, embarrassed. I blush back, embarrassed that there is something to be embarrassed about. Or that she doesn't want me to know, at least. She leans in to the nurses desk.
"My monthly gift" Sam whispers to her. The lady sighs, sounding quite uninterested, grabs some paperwork from her desk and walks across the office to a file cabinet.
"Well, I was just wondering. I know how young love can be." She says, nonchalontly.
"We're not in love." We say in unison again. But when Sam says it, she makes sure to enunciate on the word not, so it's as if she's spitting it at me. I look down at my shoes and she gets up to talk to the nurse, although they are across the room, so I don't here them. When she comes back, she tells me to get up.
"Thanks Marsha," She waves a hand at her and we walk out of her office, unnoticed. I look back at the closed door, flabbergasted.
"How did you-" She stops and turns so she's standing right in front of me.
"I told her we were going back to class. She doesn't care whether or not it's true. Now, how do we get to the place that controls the schools electrical system?" She changes the subject quickly, which startles me just a little, but I shake it off and pull out my pare phone that has the map of the school on it.
"It says the main circuit is located..." I click some buttons and zoom in to get a better look. "Upstairs in the storage room." Sam crinkles her nose in that cute way she does when she's confused. I mean, not that I think it's cute. Well, not like that anyway.
"The storage room?" She turns and tries to recall such a place.
"It's the door right by the art room. The one with..." I look down at my phone again. "The furnace apparently."
"So. I guess it's go time..." She says, sounding tremendously less enthusiastic compared to how she sounded when we were discussing the prank earlier. She was looking off down the hallway as if someone is there, when no one is.
"I guess so." I confirm. And we make our way up the stairs to the 3rd floor, on our way to putting the schools electrical system to rest.
Okay. I know, a cliff hanger. Your probably thinking this is stupid because it's really long and useless and has nothing to do with anything but it kind of does. I'm really trying to dig into Sam and Freddie's relationship, you know? Got a little bit of motivation from some really awesome reviewers. SHOUT OUT TIME STARTS.......NOW:
AJ Wonkette-You are awesome and thank you for your helpful feedback. I dedicate this chapter to you, I'm really sinking my teeth into this and I almost screamed today when my English teacher told me I was such a good writer. But I played it cool, just walked it off. :)
Anyways. Review! Tell me what you think of this extremely long chapter. I personally love it all because of T-Bo. Anybody know T-Bo's real name? Made up a name that I thought fit him pretty well. idk. Whatever. It's done now. So review please. :]
OMG OMG OMG. PS. T-BO IS A CREDDIE SHIPPER. SEDDIE WARIORS? WE ARE GOING TO HAVE TO CHANGE THAT. We currently have Spencer AND the Bra Who Tells Ghost Stories. We just need T-Bo and...maybe Gibby? I'm not sure Gibby would even have anything. He'd probably be all "no comment."
Gibby! This is Dateline NBC! We were just wondering if we could interview you for just a few seconds?
Gibby: No comment.
But Gibby! Dateline NBC would like to know: Are you a Seddie shipper or a Creddie shipper?
Gibby: No comment. *Rips off shirt* *reveals Seddie tattoo on stomach.* Oh uhhh...
*awkward silence*
Thank you Gibby. I think our question has been answered.
:) hahahaha. I'm so bored. But hey, you gotta love Gibby and his Seddie tattoo right? Please Review ;P