Samantha walked gloomily down the hall of school with her notebooks in her arms. Her normally porcelain skin was blotchy and her long dark hair was in a messy bun. She just hadn't felt like putting any effort into her appearance lately. Subconsciously it was because she was trying to avoid getting any attention from a guy. If one was to fall for her, she may fall back and it would only lead to pain.
A she approached her locker she noticed a not taped to the front and rolled her eyes. Portman hadn't been able to get to her through the newspaper, now he was trying another tactic and a tacky one at that. The girl shook her head and yanked the note off her locker and dropped it to the ground, making sure to step on it. As she swung the locker door open however, something fell out at her. Something small and silver, something that had been very important to Dean. Leaning down she picked up both the gift and the letter.
"Sam,
No words can express what I'm feeling right now, I'm sure a lot can express how you're feeling. I wanted to do something to make you realize how much I really love you, I guess my poems weren't doing the trick this time. So I'm giving you my grandfather's pen, you know how special it is to me, I won't even left Fulton touch it, but I want you to have it. If it doesn't tell you how much you mean to me, at the very least you'll have a nice pen to write with when you win your Pulitzer.
I love you Samantha Wyatt, I always have, I think you're the only person in school that didn't know. I guess from now on the brief time I had you will be the best time of my life, the only time I've ever been truly happy. I know saying everything that happened with Sierra was a mistake would just seem like an excuse, so I won't say it. I know you're to smart to fall for some lame explanation, so I'm not going to you one.
I just want to tell you, I'm not whole without you. Everything good that's ever been in me is due to you, even when you didn't know it. All the sensitive sweet writing that has ever flowed from the bottom of my pen, you've inspired. You made me a better person, I just want to say thank you.
I've got a game tonight and I don't expect you there, I just wish you would be. At the risk of sounding like that Drew Barymore from that 'Never Been Kissed' movie, I want to beg you to forgive me and be there. I'll look for you, I'll wait for you and I'll never stop loving you.
Yours Always,
Dean"
Portman tossed his gear bag over his shoulder and slammed his locker shut. He heard a familiar pattern of footsteps coming up the hall behind him and turned. Sam simply looked at him and continued on her way. It was hard to tell from her face what she was thinking and he couldn't decide if that was a good thing.
"Do you think she'll show?" Fulton asked leaning on his best friends shoulder.
Portman shook his head.
"I dunno. Come on though, we've gotta get to practice."
Samantha sat on her bed rolling Portman's pen back in forth in her hands. The metal was smooth and the sound it made as clinked against her ring was soothing. She wanted to keep it, just keep the pen as some sort of a cheesy consolation prize. After all he put her through, she deserved at least that.
All he put her through, what had he put her through? He broke up with her when he thought she cheated on him and slept with another girl while they were broken up. Did she really have the right to be upset? It wasn't like they were together at the time, technically they were separated. What could she do?
After Russ sunk the last goal and the Ducks one, the seats emptied like usual as fans flooded the ice. Everyone was being pulled into their traditional congratulatory hugs. It seemed to be a custom, but not one Portman enjoyed. He wasn't one for being touched, especially by strangers and affection he only showed to very few people. As the ice cleared and the fans began to leave, he sighed. There was Sam in sight, she hadn't showed.
Forlorn the boy changed into his street clothes and walked out of the locker room. As he left the rink her heard his being called. Before he got the chance to say 'what?' something was flung at his head. With lightening quick reflexes he plucked it out of the air. It was his pen.
"If I don't keep the pen, do I get to keep you?" Samantha queried stepping out from the side of the building.
Portman dropped his bag and ran at her, picking her up by the waist. Rather then answering he kissed her firmly on the mouth. The poet among the ducks had emerged and claimed the brainy beauty he had always desired. Later that night he snuck to the girl's dorm and slipped one last poem under Samantha's door.
'To have you back I would've give it all
I promise to answer every time you call
Now you've returned to my side
And the joy I'm feeling, I can't hide
We're back together, let's stay this way
Hold each other, forever and a day
I'll never, ever let you go again
My love for you will never end'
THE END
A she approached her locker she noticed a not taped to the front and rolled her eyes. Portman hadn't been able to get to her through the newspaper, now he was trying another tactic and a tacky one at that. The girl shook her head and yanked the note off her locker and dropped it to the ground, making sure to step on it. As she swung the locker door open however, something fell out at her. Something small and silver, something that had been very important to Dean. Leaning down she picked up both the gift and the letter.
"Sam,
No words can express what I'm feeling right now, I'm sure a lot can express how you're feeling. I wanted to do something to make you realize how much I really love you, I guess my poems weren't doing the trick this time. So I'm giving you my grandfather's pen, you know how special it is to me, I won't even left Fulton touch it, but I want you to have it. If it doesn't tell you how much you mean to me, at the very least you'll have a nice pen to write with when you win your Pulitzer.
I love you Samantha Wyatt, I always have, I think you're the only person in school that didn't know. I guess from now on the brief time I had you will be the best time of my life, the only time I've ever been truly happy. I know saying everything that happened with Sierra was a mistake would just seem like an excuse, so I won't say it. I know you're to smart to fall for some lame explanation, so I'm not going to you one.
I just want to tell you, I'm not whole without you. Everything good that's ever been in me is due to you, even when you didn't know it. All the sensitive sweet writing that has ever flowed from the bottom of my pen, you've inspired. You made me a better person, I just want to say thank you.
I've got a game tonight and I don't expect you there, I just wish you would be. At the risk of sounding like that Drew Barymore from that 'Never Been Kissed' movie, I want to beg you to forgive me and be there. I'll look for you, I'll wait for you and I'll never stop loving you.
Yours Always,
Dean"
Portman tossed his gear bag over his shoulder and slammed his locker shut. He heard a familiar pattern of footsteps coming up the hall behind him and turned. Sam simply looked at him and continued on her way. It was hard to tell from her face what she was thinking and he couldn't decide if that was a good thing.
"Do you think she'll show?" Fulton asked leaning on his best friends shoulder.
Portman shook his head.
"I dunno. Come on though, we've gotta get to practice."
Samantha sat on her bed rolling Portman's pen back in forth in her hands. The metal was smooth and the sound it made as clinked against her ring was soothing. She wanted to keep it, just keep the pen as some sort of a cheesy consolation prize. After all he put her through, she deserved at least that.
All he put her through, what had he put her through? He broke up with her when he thought she cheated on him and slept with another girl while they were broken up. Did she really have the right to be upset? It wasn't like they were together at the time, technically they were separated. What could she do?
After Russ sunk the last goal and the Ducks one, the seats emptied like usual as fans flooded the ice. Everyone was being pulled into their traditional congratulatory hugs. It seemed to be a custom, but not one Portman enjoyed. He wasn't one for being touched, especially by strangers and affection he only showed to very few people. As the ice cleared and the fans began to leave, he sighed. There was Sam in sight, she hadn't showed.
Forlorn the boy changed into his street clothes and walked out of the locker room. As he left the rink her heard his being called. Before he got the chance to say 'what?' something was flung at his head. With lightening quick reflexes he plucked it out of the air. It was his pen.
"If I don't keep the pen, do I get to keep you?" Samantha queried stepping out from the side of the building.
Portman dropped his bag and ran at her, picking her up by the waist. Rather then answering he kissed her firmly on the mouth. The poet among the ducks had emerged and claimed the brainy beauty he had always desired. Later that night he snuck to the girl's dorm and slipped one last poem under Samantha's door.
'To have you back I would've give it all
I promise to answer every time you call
Now you've returned to my side
And the joy I'm feeling, I can't hide
We're back together, let's stay this way
Hold each other, forever and a day
I'll never, ever let you go again
My love for you will never end'
THE END