'School' starts with an s - which meant it was bound to be something… bad.

Just think of it: school, sacrifice, serious, society and science.

Of course, there was also snarky, sarcastic, sabotage and most importantly, the embodiment of all these descriptions, Samantha. And the latest addition to this collection was sister and Sam counted on her fingers to see the progress of her stereotypical dictionary.

When they finally pulled over at the front gates of the Sachs School for Boys, Sam was still counting all the s words she could think of. She did not really need them for English class though – it would be a long time before she would start to appreciate the art of literature.

No, rather, she liked to think it as an 'extracurricular' thing she was researching on. Plus, she needed to shift her focus to the counting so that she may not target her moody mind of the morning any more on Tom than what cannot be helped.

The squeak of the brakes stopping brought Sam back to the hot cramped automobile. Blinking consecutively as her mind processed the change for a few seconds, Sam noticed her brother get out as quick as lightning.

Her instincts told her Ralphie might have the right idea – they have not made a good pace on their way, and the school courtyard was oddly sparse of its usual morning crowd of boys playing. She swiftly hopped out in a like manner of her brother, but as she did so, the school bell rang sharp in the ears of all nearby.

"Holy sh–"

"Samantha!" Edith stared at her in horror, quite disbelieved at her sister's severely odd manner of tongue – yes, she could be rude and sassy at times, but Edith had known her sister to be very proper when it comes to vile language – their mother had seen to it most intently.

"I meant holy cow," Sam denied, and collected her water bottle, lunch box and bag in the clumsiest manner possible. She was running out of time, and she couldn't care less about her sister now but somehow she did.

"That's still bad," her sister called out from behind, and Sam retorted with a "Whatever!"

"Bye… and good luck!" Edith bid kindly, her eyes fixed lovingly at the back of the two young ones she had cared for as a second mother. Ralphie's echo of a goodbye came from a very far distant as he was already at the front door of his school.

"S-study hard!" Tom also gave his own farewell nervously. Before, there was a chance that Sam might have replied to her sister's goodbye but now… she only scowled at the meek voice which seemed to be putting on every form of kindness in pretense.

"But seriously where could she have heard that from?"

"Don't worry, Edith. Kids her age are learning these things every day," Tom reassured with an extended pat around his fiancé now that no pesky teenage sister was there to scream at them.

Edith did not seem very convinced with what he said.

Sam ran past the blocks and in a matter of seconds, she came up to the corner street where just across stood the (magnificent) Sachs School for Girls at 116 West 59th Street. She waited no longer and started crossing the street, only to be honked at by a passing truck.

"Watch where you're going, will you?" she yelled at the poor driver who hadn't finished his prayer of thanking God for being able to hit the brakes on time. He just stared at the moody teenager who ran past without a second glance to where she might supposedly have met her death.

Sam did not seem to notice however – to her, death was an imaginary thing, and being late for school was not. She had never been late for school, not with her mother being the earliest bird in Manhattan, and now she couldn't help but groan at the idea of karma coming back to her when she remembered the time she made fun of Louis Borne for turning up late and messy to homeroom.

It's all the Toad's fault, and Father will hear about this!

Well, that would be a delightful thought and worth being late for school, if only she could make herself believe that her father would go to lengths to punish his future son-in-law for making the kids arrive at school late. And Sam herself knew that would never happen, really.

Whatever!

She reached the tall gates of the Girl's School, and who but her dear Rosie Morton would be standing right there fidgeting with anxiety as she waited for Sam to turn up? The girl's pretty features lit up at the sight of her lunatic best friend running towards her all drenched in sweat.

"Rosie, you silly, why aren't you inside yet?"

"Well, you're the one who threatened to kill me if I ever walked through the schoolyard on my own," she replied, joining in her friend's running to keep up although it wasn't hard.

"That was back in 2nd grade when the boys would tease you and your pigtails!" Sam looked at her friend in utter disbelief as to how someone could be so naïve and frankly, stupid.

"Well, forgive me, but I also happened to get worried why you were late," Rosie snapped in reply to Sam's condescending look, returning a look of her own as if to say 'I know what you're thinking about me, and I don't like it at all'.

Okay, maybe not that stupid, but still.

Sam sighed at her friend's words of compassion. But honestly, more than feeling grateful for her friend's kindness, Sam was filled with dissatisfaction in Rosie's stead – who would ever want to get detention for waiting on a friend who supposedly might not even show up?

Always trust Rosemary to turn every silly act into sympathy.

"Edith sent us this morning, and the Main Road was occupied by the trolley workers," Sam explained as they ran through the front oaken door and started climbing the stairs to the third floor. She pursed her lips in hesitation, before opening up to her trustworthy friend, "And my ma's sick,"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sam. Is it the flu?"

Sam shrugged, "My pa says it's a stomach bug though,"

Rosie wrinkled her nose, "Ah, nasty things. Remember when Eliza got sick with that?"

"Mhm," Sam nodded, her lips still pursed close together as her mind carried on to not the season where their other friend had to stay at home for a week, but rather the concern of how long her mother would lay sick. Sam prayed it wouldn't be long; she would not be sane again if she had to endure another day of her sister and the fiancé.

They exchanged no more words after that, Rosie being a quiet rose herself and Sam… well, Sam being a chaotic disaster on the inside.

"Bye, stay safe," Rosie greeted as they reached the top of the flight and she turned to the right side of the corridor.

"Of course, you know I try," Sam grinned before turning left to where her homeroom was.

There, coming from the other side of the corridor was Eliza, carrying a stack of notebooks. Her expression did not change in the least bit at seeing Sam, but fastening her pace to catch Sam before she had to enter the class.

They got to the front of the heavily decorated door of Room 302, and Eliza whispered, "Why are you late? Mrs. Noreen's not very happy this morning,"

"Is she missing her favorite student to minus points?"

"Probably," Eliza sniggered along, entering inside the room as Sam opened the door for her.

"Miss Pulitzer, you are late," Sam flinched at how fast the scathing voice noticed her entrance, and wondered secretly if the old cat had been preparing a speech for her the last 5 minutes.

"I am fully aware of that, but-"

"I will have no excuses for lack of punctuality. You know the rules," the teacher waited for a whole minute as the class drowned in silence. Mrs. Noreen seemed to be expecting an answer, or an action, for Sam to follow the rules but it was all awkwardness when the latter stared back at her blankly.

"Miss Pulitzer, the rules," she tapped her ladies' shoes against the wooden floor which emitted a rhythmic creaking sound which added more to her own desperation.

"Wait, I'm sorry I didn't know there were rules," Sam cleared, trying to sound clueless on purpose. Many people in their class had been late before, and none of them really had any punishment. So it was quite believable that she would have been negligent of the written rules as none had ever been applied in her knowledge.

Mrs. Noreen let out an exasperated sigh, walking across the room to her by the door. She shut the door close and pointed on the chart that hung behind the door.

"Are you illiterate, or can you just not read?" the teacher was clearly trying to control her anger. No one ever managed to edge her off like Samantha Pulitzer. Everyone knew her authority around here, and everyone needed to respect that. But not Sam, it seemed.

"I'm sorry, are those my options? You know illiterate means-"

"I know perfectly well what it means,"

Rather than being taken aback by this almost scream from the red-faced woman, Sam was stifling real hard to keep her laughter in check. Every minute of this was increasingly entertaining to her, and she also knew by a side note that the less time there was remaining of homeroom, the less time she would spend standing outside the room in detention; as the words on the CLASS RULES chart stated.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Noreen, but I believe that is my line," Sam smugly corrected at the phrase her teacher had just used unconsciously, through really enormous difficulty did she manage to keep a straight face as she stared at her teacher's dim blue eyes.

They once must have been pretty… like his.

Wait, what am I thinking of?

The last thing that should come to her mind at the moment was him, and to think of him, she had not even seen his eyes clearly. Sure, it was dark and everything…

Sam was dragged to return from her shocking trance at Mrs. Noreen's bellow.

"YOU HAVE A WEEK'S DETENTION FOR BEING LATE, AND THAT!" The whole class stopped moving – their school was an all-girl-private and no one had ever received any detention. There was a CATs system which reported the student's overall behavior each term but never, and I mean NEVER, was anyone given detention for any reason at all.

Sam just stared back at her, not quite processing what was happening yet. How could she, when she was being such a chaos on the inside?

"For being late and what, madam?" Sam asked collectedly without paying much thought, quite the very opposite to the internal screaming going on inside her mind. Little did anyone know, that this appearance of calamity had derived from Samantha's brain being numb by her own reprimand of the senseless thoughts that whirled through it.

Why am I trying to remember what his eyes look like? For Washington's sake, Samantha, get yourself together!

And so everyone wondered at her capability of perfect tranquility under the very fiery eyes of the balrog. What they didn't know… they never thought of.

"THIS! YOUR CHEEKINESS, FOOLISH GIRL! A MONTH'S DETENTION! YES, A MONTH'S DETENTION."

Out of the corner of her eyes, Sam saw her best friend flinch under the shrill scream. Eliza was not alone in this though; all the girls in the room were quite petrified by this sudden outburst of their normally sensible teacher. For anyone to ever drive Mrs. Noreen out of her senses… that person only must be unbelievable. And that person was Samantha Pulitzer.

"Now get out of this room," the teacher ordered in a less worked-up behavior. She cleared her throat and retained her usual respectable posture, although her facial features were nowhere near lenient.

Sam turned, glancing round the room quickly as she did so. She saw Pitty Parker in the center front row; even she seemed to have been at a loss of emotions at a teacher's flame – her face was blank, no smirks or the usual titter from her little friend group.

Taking a step back to the door, Sam's hand hung mid-air in reach of the doorknob when the shrill ringing of the bell marked the end of homeroom period. Sam's mind told her it would make matters worse, but once she'd gone down the lane, it was too hard to not follow the path already laid.

She looked at Mrs. Noreen with a hardly suppressed demeanor that spelled out s.a.s.s.y and kindly informed her teacher, "I believe that would be the bell, madam,"

And she swiped her long-skirt past the front row of tables, even brushed the shoulders of the woman, and took her seat right behind the empty seat in the second row, which was Eliza's (who, still under the spell of the shocking incident, had not moved a muscle from near the Teacher's desk where she was to pile up the notebooks).

Mrs. Noreen's jaw clenched – her eyes fixatedly glaring at Sam's every single movement. She then headed for the door stiffly, her mind already storming up schemes to report back to the Head and the spoiled girl's family. Yes, if anything, it was all due to her spoilt childhood.

Oh, if looks could kill. Too bad they can't.

Sam stared at the exiting figure, and for one last time, she decided on a masterpiece of her pranking career.

"Stress is not good for you," she said this out loud to no one in particular, but the smile on her face said it all. Mrs. Noreen, however, ignored the "silly" girl's joke – no matter how boiled teachers were, they were still masters of self-respect and control. Sometimes.

Once the woman had gone with a harsh slam of the door, the statues in the class immediately came to life; some let out the long deep breaths they've been holding lest they made one tiny bit of sound; others started tattling about the horrendous experience.

"Oh my George Wash, did you see her face going all swollen and red?" Sam gushed at Eliza who took her seat absent-mindedly. The motherly good-natured girl turned round to her oblivious smiling friend in wide opened eyes of shock.

"Good gracious, how could you do that?"

"Do what?" Sam asked smugly, pursing her lips in an attempt not to laugh out loud at her friend's overdramatic reaction.

"All of that! You might get suspended, or worse expelled!"

At this, Pitty also turned round from her front row to Sam who sat two rows behind her diagonally. "Then, that would be a jolly sight for the school, no doubt."

"You mean a pity this school will lose the only sane student they have, and be stuck with some silly princesses in dresses,"

"That's the whole point of this school, you stupid, to become proper ladies," Pitty flicked her hair not-so-subtly as she clenched her teeth to prepare for another session of Come Up With The Worst Insults.

"Well, I don't wanna live my life stuffed up as a doll for someone else's sake, you dumb dumbo,"

"I am NOT a dumbo,"

"No, you're a dummy,"

"And you're an evil lunatic!" Pitty shrieked, her side ponytail flaring in anger of its own as she herself trembled in wrath of hatred – her opponent hardly stirred a muscle from where she sat.

"And you a pathetically psychotic idiot,"

This would have gone on infinitely had Eliza not stood up to cover the both's view of each other. It was like two mad animals at each other's throat, honestly. And although it had become a school-wide class rival thing, Eliza and other neutral girls were all wondering why on earth the teachers had not done anything about it yet.

"Thank you, Eliza, I was wondering how long I'd have to go on with it," Sam appreciated half-heartedly although she would not have denied a chance to see Pitty Parker absolutely shaking with fury. And Sam was so sure she was going to get there with a couple more lines, knowing how easy Pitty's temper was to toy with.

Eliza gave a sigh, puffing her cheeks as usual whenever she felt out of ideas or words.

Sam knew this perfectly well, but her amusing mind was still not yet dimmed, and thus commented jokingly, "Stop that. You're looking too cute for my liking."

When her gentle friend rolled her eyes at this, Sam ventured further, "No, I mean it. I might soon get jealous of Hugo Denton." At the mention of this name, Eliza's cheeks flushed crimson with surprise. "And punch him with a baseball bat!"

"I really don't know what to do with you, Sam," she sighed at last, possibly with an adoring imagination of the boy at his baseball games, but Eliza was no fool to let the emotions cave in; she knew when to save her dignity from a well-meaning jester friend who would tore it to shreds in moments if the mind was devilishly overwhelmed.

"Yeah, me neither, really,"

Eliza slumped down her seat with another sigh, looking as if she was at the end of her wits to handle Sam during homeroom. It was actually the hardest task of the day, maybe except Mrs. Noreen's math class. But Rosie was also in the same math class and Pitty was not, so that was less trouble for Miss Holland to keep the wild one under control.

But homeroom... well, let's just say homeroom of R.302 on a daily basis was just slightly less noisy than this morning.

"I almost got a heart-attack," she admitted several minutes later, and by that time, the whole class was starting to wonder what could have happened to Ms. Dora on the way to class. It wasn't a usual pastime for a teacher to be late; the school had really firm rules of punctuality for both the teachers and the students. And perhaps it was also because Ms. Dora was one to get fidgety at the slightest change of her organized schedule or a mistake on her part.

"Don't. Because that's Rosie's thing to do,"

"Then I'm just immensely glad she isn't in this class," The clock on the back wall was already showing 5 minutes past 9:10, and Eliza began to scowl with the majority of the class. "Say, what do you think happened to Ms. Dora?"

"Could be a stomach bug like my mother," Sam gulped her insecurities down with a wash of doubts, "Or, a big mean old cat might have pounced on our poor Geography teacher and now they're headed to the Principal's Office, and there's going to be a Board Meeting after school."

Eliza narrowed her eyes, her tongue clicking tsk tsk as her head shook mildly disapproving. She then opened her book to start skimming the notes from last week, when at that moment, the short plump figure of Ms. Dora barged into the room like a little ball rolling in.

Everyone scrambled up from their seats to recite the greeting poem, but Ms. Dora's nervous chatter cut them short of any form of amiable greetings.

"Sorry for the wait, class, there was an important school business, and turns out we're having a serious meeting after school today. You girls are welcome to join if you'd like, just down in the Assembly Hall." She announced without looking up, hurriedly placing her files on the Desk and taking out Geography notes for the period.

If she did look up, she would most certainly have been greeted with a room full of girls with their jaws hanging down in surprise. Of course there was a little bit more emotion in most than others; a range of various emotions.

Okay I did not guess that part.

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A/N : Let's see how many words starting with s you guys can spot ;) feel free to omit she and Sam cuz... yeah