AN: Hasn't it been a hot minute. My apologies for my brief absence - let's just ignore that I missed two weeks aha. Anyway, here is the long-awaited chapter ten! Oh, and happy Thursday! I hope you have a lovely rest of your week, lovelies.
Chapter Ten
The house was not in the same state she'd left it in the day before. Melanie seemed to have worked her magic, having done all the laundry piled in the small entry way, vacuumed the floor, washed the dishes, wiped down the surfaces and cleaned up all the empty buckets of chicken, glass/plastic bottles, and plates everywhere. Their mom had grown lazy over the years and didn't take as best care of Sam—aha, the house as she could've.
"Welcome home, Sammy," her grinning twin greeted, holding a large platter of freshly made vegan cookies. "Would you like one? I made them for mom to take to the bake sale at school. Well, your school. I don't think my mom would get on a plane to my school to deliver some cookies."
"Why is she going to my school anyway?" Sam frowned. She glanced at the now clean lounge – heck, had Melanie even steamed the carpet? "Since when was she interested in impressing the moms on the PTA?"
"She wanted to make an effort, Sammy."
"I told you not to call me that."
"Why? I don't see anything wrong with it."
"Well, I do," Sam snapped, her eyebrows furrowing together. "Don't say it, Melanie."
"Fine, fine. Anyway, do you want a cookie or not? I have to box them up in a second because I'm leaving any minute for work. They demoted me from stacking the shelves to mopping up any spills or bodily fluids. Some kid yesterday—"
"Where is she?" Sam interrupted, but she could already guess the answer. She never left her room when she was home – well, other when she planned to make out with her boyfriend of the week.
"Mom is in her room," Melanie said. "But she—" Sam was already up the stairs and striding into her mom's room, slamming the door open and making it wobble on its hinges. She looked up from her bed where she was gulping down a wine bottle like it was her first drink in months. After wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, she swallowed the last of it and hid the bottle under the bed. Then she looked up, surprised to see her other daughter there rather than her peppy, happy one.
"Oh, it's you. If I had known, I wouldn't have almost drowned in that wine. Melanie's so uptight about my drinking."
"Mother," Sam said coldly.
"Disgrace," her mom chimed back, not missing a beat. That had been a joke since she was young, something they came up with between them, but this time, Sam could only hear the truth dripping from both of their voices. When they were growing up, Melanie was her mom's favourite and Sam was her dad's favourite. Then her dad left, Melanie went away, and she had to suffer with the mother who'd never quite felt like a mother to her. "What brings you home? Mel said you've been bunking with that bf of yours."
Sam scoffed. "Benson? He's not my "bf.""
"Oh, I beg to differ. Didn't you date last year? Hogged my couch for weeks."
"Like you care," Sam said, raising an eyebrow. It wasn't that her mom and her didn't get along. In reality, they made good roommates – in the sense that they didn't bother each other. Sam made dinner for them when she was home, left it on the side for her mom when she'd get back from her part-time boyfriend or part-time job in the small gas station just off the highway. Then her mom made sure now that she was appropriately dressed all the time -and that was the most Sam could ask for. They just clashed sometimes and needed time apart, which was valid for most parent-child relationships for them to remain healthy. "Anyway, I had to talk to you about college."
"College, eh? What's that Benson kid doing to you, kid?" Sam frowned, wondering how her mom had found out about Freddie, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that if you lived under a roof with Melanie, you'd find out everything about everyone. "You know that Pucketts don't go to college."
"Yes, but I want to."
"Right," Pam hummed in disbelief. "You and Mel are the first two Puckett kids to survive high school without dropping out – don't get your hopes up. And you know, kid, if you want to go to college, you require money."
"Hence why I am here. Where's my college fund?" Sam asked, looking around and almost expecting it to be a jar with sparkly writing on it – like Carly's, which was full and displayed proudly on the shelf in her room. When, in reality, she knew that her mom hadn't saved for college, hadn't bothered.
Pam wanted to laugh, but she could only scoff. "If you wanted to go to college, you should've thought about that. Melanie's been saving up for years now for college."
"Melanie this, Melanie that. I don't care about that goody-two-shoes," Sam deadpanned. "She went to a fancy boarding school that dad said you paid for, so I think you need to cough up the money you've been keeping from me."
"There is no money," Pam laughed bitterly. "Don't you get it, kid? We're poor." She threw her arms up for dramatic effect. "Your dad paid for that school for Melanie – then he left us with nothing. So, if you want to go to college, you're paying. You know how I started to make a living? Your grandma threw me out at seventeen with no money, no qualifications, nothing when I was pregnant with you two, so I had to work in a shitty mall restaurant that sold stale baked potatoes. Then I got with your dad because I had no other choice. First man who asked me to marry him. I said no obviously. I didn't need a man, but I was stupid, kid. I fell in love, alright? Then he left. My point is, I did all this." She gestured to the walls around them. "I bought this house when I was twenty. Might be a shithole, but this is all mine. And I raised two beautiful kids."
"Well, I wouldn't say that. One kid you raised. I was never your kid – or at least you never saw me as yours."
Pam stood up from her bed, surprised. "Pardon? Do you want to repeat that, kid? Do you know what I've given up for you?" Sam watched her mom reach into the nightstand and pull out a pile of paperwork, before throwing it at her daughter. "We are bankrupt. Welcome to reality and look at your future. You're not going to a fancy college, like your snobby bff and polite bf. You're going to be working a shitty job in a shitty part of town living a shitty life. You're a Puckett."
"And what about Melanie?" Sam picked up the few letters from the end of the bed where they had drifted and clung to them, reading the first few lines. Dear Miss Puckett, do you wish to transfer the outstanding balance to your daughter's account, following her recent eighteenth birthday? Then she read the second one, which read the same few lines.
"She's a Puckett. She's destined for failure. She might go to her fancy university, but at the end of the day, we all share a last name and the same future. Just don't let her or you get knocked up early in life."
"What is this, mom?" Sam asked, not entirely understanding the paperwork. Pam came closer, snatched it off her to unfold the paper, and stepped back again. She got another bottle of wines from under her bed and uncapped the bottle, not hesitating with taking a more controlled sip. The first bottle must've been affecting her as she began to sway back and forth. Sam read the next few lines, frowning. If you choose not to transfer the money, we request you to contact us immediately. The current balance of SAM PUCKETT's account stands as $78,081. "Mom, I asked what this is."
"You're not dumb, Sam. Read it again."
It took a second to click and for her to read the return address on the letter.
"You opened a trust fund for me."
Pam hummed. "Wasn't planning on telling either of you. Your dad opened the accounts before he left. Started separate trust funds. I guess that's how he afforded to send Melanie to that school. Although, it could've been you."
"Pardon?" Sam blinked.
"I did a quick round of tic-tac-toe when your dad suggested the idea."
"Are you serious? You could've sent us both away, yet you chose Melanie."
"Alright, it was an equal chance. Don't lose your head. We spent Melanie's trust fund on her boarding school and kept yours for the future. Wasn't going to tell you so I could afford the mortgage, but alright."
"It's my money, Pam. It's under my name."
Pam looked at her daughter. "I topped Melanie's back up when my mom died last year. Stupid cow kept me in her will still, and your good Uncle Carmine before he went to jail made sure I got the money, well, mainly to pay his bail next time. I paid the bail and paid the rest of Melanie's trust fund."
"I don't care about that. I care that you've been keeping this from me," Sam said with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. Of course, she understood that her mom was in a tough situation between the house and trying to provide for now two daughters, but that was Sam's money. And if she deserved anything, it was the seventy thousand bucks, close to eighty thousand bucks, sitting in an account with her name on it. "Honestly, at this point, I don't even care that Melanie got everything and went to that stupid school. And you know, I'll pay the college fees for the next four years and then you have the rest – I don't care. I've never wanted anything, never asked for anything. Heck, Spencer drove us to Vegas for eighteen hours to bail you out of prison. I do a lot for you but for once, I am asking for this. I deserve that money, mom, Pam, mother, whatever the heck you want me to call you. And you can't take that away from me – or from Melanie, but mostly me."
Pam closed her eyes, and the next few words out of her mouth were music to Sam's ears. "I'll transfer the money first thing in the morning when the bank opens." She touched her daughter's shoulder – a firm grasp with one hand. "But if you do this, make me proud, kid. Don't come crying to me when you fail, your fella knocks you up and you're homeless."
Sam could've left it there. She could've just allowed her mom to embrace her, well, shoulder touch her and then leave. But she couldn't. She had to be a Puckett and she had to continue fighting.
"Excuse me?"
Pam blinked, hand dropping. "What?"
Sam scoffed, finding it both surprising and unsurprising that her mom was making this into a bigger deal than it was. "When have I ever wanted anything from you? You never had to feed me, clothe me, not even pay the water bills because the Shays did that for me. I didn't ask you to come to school events – heck, wasn't even planning on telling you the date of graduation. You never took me shopping, on fun mother and daughter days out. The most fun we had was being chased out a store by a mall cop you dated fourteen engagement rings ago. But you know, I never complained. Not once. I didn't complain that a rock came through the window last summer and I stepped on the broken glass, ended up in hospital and needed eighteen stitches at four am. I didn't complain when I was nine and no one showed up for me after school so I had to walk home in the rain and I caught the flu. Then I ask for this. I ask for you to just give me the money that's in my name for my future – mainly so I don't have to raise my kids the way you did."
"The way I did, huh? You had a roof over your head, didn't you?" Pam argued back, fuming. "You had more than most people, Samantha. Just because you hang out with that Shay girl doesn't mean you're suddenly above everyone else."
"Why would it mean that at all?"
"Daughter of a guy in the military, fancy apartment in a fancy part of town, always food in the fridge," Pam continued. "That's not how we live, alright. She's in her castle on top of a hill, completely oblivious to everything else. Then there's that fella of yours – him and his insane, weirdo of a mother. They have money and think they can sleep safely in their beds of dollar bills at night because they have a doorman on the front desk."
"Don't talk about my friends like that."
"Why? Oh, because you think they care about you?" Pam scoffed. "Who do you think they'll kick to the curb – each other or the no-good Puckett who steals all their food and they pretend to like?" Of course, Pam's words would've got to her on a normal day but considering the fact they were talking about Carly and Freddie, and after everything in the past few weeks, the words didn't even touch her skin.
"I'm leaving.
"Why, because you can't face the truth?"
Sam didn't even look at her mom.
"Huh?" Pam continued. "Answer me, damn it."
"What makes you think you deserve a reply? Because I love my mommy so much?" Sam mocked. She was mentally cackling at the fact she had told Lily less than twenty-four hours ago that she'd go back to her family – god, what was she thinking? "You deserve nothing."
"So, what? You're just going to walk out? Like your dad did."
Finally, a pause in the arguing.
"Don't ever compare me to him."
Pam waved her arm and gestured at the photo frame on her bedside table. Despite it being smashed, it was still standing there and showing the picture of their small family that was once four. She kept it there for a reason which was clearly unknown to them all, especially when she refused to mention her father in the house. "You're so much like him, Sammy. You're his daughter, not mine."
"He left us. He's nothing to me – or you, or Melanie."
"Yet you're leaving."
"Look, mom—"
"Just get out."
"But—"
"Samantha Puckett, get out. You're no daughter of mine."
Taken aback by her mom's words, especially when she felt she was finally getting somewhere at the idea of her dad, she kicked the railing at the top of the stairs and yelled down to her sister, before going into their shared bedroom and practically ripping the room apart in search of her backpack. "I'm packing a bag, Mels, and then we're leaving."