By the name of George Wash...

Samantha Pulitzer was seriously going crazy. At this rate, she'd probably end up in an asylum long before her time. There was no doubt she would end up there sooner or later, but this anxiety was pacing up her due.

The weather outside was sunny side up, the temperature almost rising 100 degrees – making everyone outside feel like being toast. Inside the automobile was even worse – cramped up in a small space at the backseat of a Daimler 'Phoenix' was like an oven for Sam who felt like roasted turkey getting ready for Christmas dinner. To add the finishing touch to this mortal pain, their car was stuck amongst other cars in a traffic jam. And so, really it was actually being roasted in the oven ever so slowly underneath the hot June sun.

Sam's stuffy uniform was starting to bug her, and her ponytail was beginning to feel like a heat-storage, absorbing every possible heat in this weather. Sometimes she wondered why on earth human ever needed hair – all they seemed to be was burden.

She let out a prolonged groan, "Why are we not moving yet?" Her question was softened by the weak meekness which the unbearable heat had brought upon her.

"Well, there's some sort of traffic jam ahead the road,"

"It's not a traffic jam, Edith -"

"Then what the hell do you call this?" Sam angrily cut off the man's sentence, flailing her arms wildly at the cars stopped around them – horns blaring with angry drivers' patience wearing off.

"Language, Samantha," Edith warned her, turning around to get a whole better view of Sam and Ralphie sitting in the back.

The girl gave Edith a 'i-couldn't-care-less' shrug with an emotionless expression, while the young boy averted his gaze from one of his sisters to another as he waited for the scene to play out and making calculations in his mind of the possible consequences.

"It's probably the trolley-workers," Tom explained logically, ignoring Sam's rude behavior towards him as he always tried to, "I read about it in the news yesterday. Something about the strikers occupying the Main Road,"

While all this time he'd been talking, Sam who sat right behind kept doing these hilariously exaggerated faces to imitate the poor guy. Ralphie tried to contain his laughter to himself, but alas, the ten-year-old kid failed miserably to his sister's comic faces. As a small snort escaped from him, Edith turned back sharply to them.

The elder sister was obviously annoyed and not so happy about being disturbed from her adoring gazes while listening to her fiancé. Knowing there was something going on behind her back, literally and metaphorically, she gave Sam 'the look' but the younger one merely replied by rudely sticking out her tongue.

"That's nice to know, Tom," Edith decided to ignore her sister's conduct, and instead focused back on smiling sweetly, "Do you think we should take the 11th Avenue then?"

That little question made Sam lose her threadbare mind.

"Why couldn't you just say "Let's take the 11th Avenue," without that creepy smile? It's as if you don't have a brain of your own to think," Her voice contained disdained confusion, as if she could never grasp the concept of asking for agreement from a partner before rushing into things.

But then again, Sam had never had "partners".

She was the leader in her friend group at school, and at home she was the kid but sometimes teamed up with Ralphie. And even then, she'd still be the leader because God knows never to trust the boy with anything serious.

But Sam had never felt the absence of a partner – an equal, someone who could rival her in everything she did… Bah, never.

"Because," Edith let out an exasperated sigh, trying to contain her annoyance at bay, "Tom is the one driving the car and you have to respect someone else's opinion too."

Sam rolled her eyes but said no more. Not because she felt defeated, but because of the promise she had made that morning.

And although she had a hard time keeping promises, this was the one time she wanted to stay true to her word.

Edith then turned back, "What do you say, Tom?"

He gave a small shrug, "I'm not entirely sure. What if many of the people had the same thought as we to take the 11th?"

"Edith was the one who thought of it," Sam corrected through gritted teeth, still unknowingly possessive of her sister.

Tom merely just looked at his fiancée as if to ask, What did the little alien from the back say? because he did not, and would never, speak nor come to understand Samantha's language.

But Edith, perfectly knowing her sister's way of thinking, simply smiled back at him to avoid answering and embarrassing him any further.

Getting engaged to the sister of Samantha Pulitzer must have been quite a roller-coaster for the poor guy, and Edith felt sympathetic. Secretly, deep down both Tom and her usually included in their prayers for God to help – not Tom, but rather the guy who ever fell in love with the wild one.

But that was quite impossible. Or was it?

Alright, back to the story. Edith Pulitzer smiled at her fiancé and reassured, "Oh it'll be fine." She placed her hand lightly on his arm for comfort, being extra nice in order to make up for her sister's misbehaviors.

"Okay, it's worth a try, I guess,"

The two younger siblings simply just sat there in the back, their unfortunate eyes and ears having to witness everything going on in front of them between the engaged couple.

Sam looked at Ralphie, who at that moment also awkwardly turned his head to hers. Then, as if they had synchronized with each other, both uttered out a single word under their breath.

"Ew."

Although the decision was already made, to take the 11th Avenue was a much harder task to do than was easier said. The main road, as mentioned before, was so crammed with several cars in this working rush hour that it was quite impossible for one to do anything other than follow along the straight course as the majority.

After about 5 more minutes however (and to Sam it seemed like an hour), the lines began to move forth inch by inch. Tom took this chance and as he drove the automobile forward slowly by slowly, he started to change his direction slightly taking to the right lane.

This angered the drivers behind him, however, for they were savoring every second to move an inch forward and they weren't at all pleased that some dude with a Daimler Phoenix was messing up the route.

Car horns sounded loud and angry in Sam's ears and it only helped fuel her ongoing impatience. Normally she would have gotten mad at the other drivers. But as her dislike for her sister's fiancé seemed to outweigh her general cynicism towards the outside world, her temper this time took its target to Tom.

"What are we doing now?" she questioned disapprovingly.

"Trying to get to the 11th Avenue?" Tom replied with a question of his own, clearly not in the mood to be trifled with. He already had enough to deal with the angry drivers, and a moody snappish teenager who disliked him for liking her sister was the least of his trouble right now.

Sam rolled her eyes. If this dope thought he could match her in sarcasm, she would show him how wrong he was. Gladly.

"If only we had Devon drive us," Sam remarked loudly to edge off the adults.

"Not now, Samantha,"