This town's always gonna think I'm a little crazy
Somebody's always gonna try to label me insane
Funny how I always seem to be the one who's crazy
I just wanna live, I don't wanna fit
If that makes me crazy, then I am…
– from Crazy by Meredith Brooks

Casey would see Sam in fifth and sixth period, but he'd make sure she didn't acknowledge him… and they would be separated into boys and girls different gym classes for their seventh periods, the last period of the day… but what he didn't expect was to see her on the bus home.

He'd thrown himself down in a seat and rested his forehead on the cool glass of the window, watching the noisy students pile up and onto the bus… when he saw her. She came jogging down the path, and the disappeared in the puddle of students surrounding the doors, only to reappear through the doors seconds later.

Casey jumped and hid his head, but it was too late; she'd already seen him. She slipped down the isle and into the isle side of the seat next to him, slinging her backpack on the floor at her feet.

"Hello, Casey," she smiled and looked up at him.

"What are you doing?" he blurted out.

"Going home," she scoffed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"You weren't on here this morning!"

"What, you thought my mom would drive me twice?" She laughed bitterly. "Only if she magically started giving a shit…"

Casey was quiet for a moment and looked away, fidgeting uncomfortably, before it struck him that this was probably some story Delilah made up for him (she was very good at that) and that he was falling right for it, before he looked back up.

"Sam," she tipped her head to the side. "I told you, please, just leave me alone… you… you can't be trusted, I'm sorry, not… after them. They-they'll change you."

"Who are they, pray tell?"

He looked at her coldly and said in a low voice, "I think you already know."

"No, Casey, I don't," she said, irritation showing it's first signs in her voice. "I really don't, and if I did; I would be straight up about it. That's what separates me from the shit heads… and I really don't care what some bitch did to you in the past, okay? You need to get over it."

He shook his head slowly. "I can't…"

"And who told you that?" she demanded, her eyes staring him down. "Was it you? Or was it one of your so-called 'them'?"

He sunk deeper in his seat, his eyes diverting away, brows furrowing, a frown pecking at the corners of his mouth. "I'm sorry, I can't, just please–"

"Casey," she interrupted him, sinking down and around so that she could look him straight in the eye. "I'm not like the others. I'm not one of them."

Casey looked up at the window to avoid her eyes, though he couldn't really… he saw the rooftops going down, and recognized this neighborhood. It was his own…

"I'm sorry, Sam," he said as the bus stopped. He stood and then shook his head ever so softly as he finished: "But I can't believe you."

… And with that, he simply turned his back on her and walked away.

Casey really did mean what he said. Sam would soon discover that the hard way. Whenever she said anything; he wouldn't listen. Whenever she tried to talk to him; he'd leave. Infact it seemed the only thing that he even said to her over the days was rejecting her offer in Bio to be lab partners and telling her not to bother when she beat up people when she caught them beating up on him… he really was cold and closed off, like an airtight box that wouldn't even allow the slightly ray of sunshine inside… and it wasn't for three days before she knew what to do… it wasn't for three days before she even had a clue.

Thursday – In a slight case of irony; she'd only had the idea in fifth period, the period right after lunch, Biology Lab for her and Casey. It'd only been that morning that Sam had officially come to the definite conclusion that what was doing was not working and was not going to work, and she'd been racking her brain all day for an answer… that was when Sam noticed her.

Casey and her were pared together, being the two biggest outcasts in the entire school… though Sam was getting the beginning phases of being labeled a freak mutant, but that didn't matter just then. It wasn't the first time Sam had noticed her, either… she appeared to be the closest thing Casey had to someone to talk to, someone who could possibly understand, though her image did give one the instant impression that she was totally incapable of caring… about anything, for that matter… but still, it was a glimmer of a chance in Sam's dark situation and she was willing to take it.

Sam spent most of that period planning what she was going to do and say, rather then honestly paying attention to Mr. Furlong's assignment, which wouldn't be too good when test time came around. She didn't know how many other periodsshe was in the same class as her… sixth wasn't one of them, she would learn, but the seventh and final period of the day, Gym, she did.

Sam tried to talk to her then, but the screaming cheerleaders and preppy little girls they shared the period with (which seemed all the population besides her and Sam) made it quite the task to find anyone in there, and she hadn't had time to change and do that before their concentration camp officer– I mean Gym coach, Ms. Cecelia, ordered everybody out to run laps or play volleyball or something stupid like that.

After about an hour, though what seemed like eternity, Ms. Cecelia blew her whistle to signal the end of it and everyone stumbled back into the locker room on tired legs. Sam changed quickly back into her street clothes and looked around for her. She saw her already at the doorway out and leaving and bounced into a sprint, catching her as she turned the first corner down the hall from the door.

"Wait!" Sam called, jogging behind her. She turned and looked back, brushing greasy strands of stray chin-length hair back behind her ears. Sam stumbled into step beside her.

"You're Sam, aren't you?" She asked, looking forward again, one of her hands lazily playing with the strap of her backpack and the other swinging at her side.

"Yeah," Sam said between breaths. "And you're Stokely, right? Stokely Mitchell?"

"That's me," said her. Sam nodded, and Stokely went on. "So you're the one everyone's talking out… you don't look like such tough shit to me… Casey's said a lot about you, though… and sometimes I think he thinks I'm actually listening…"

Predictable, thought Sam.

"So," Stokely stopped walking about dropped her back against a locker, giving Sam a cool but narrow-eyed stare. "What do you want with me?"

"I need your help," Sam said quietly, imploring her with big, pleading eyes, brows furrowed ever so slightly at the inner edges. Stokely rolled her eyes but gestured for her to go on. "It's Casey. He wont talk to me, he thinks I'm like 'them', whoever 'they' are, and he says I can't be trusted. He makes it sound like there's something I did. I need to know who what it is and how I can fix it… and he seems to talk to you and stuff and if you know I really need to know so if you could just tell me you could save me an aneurysm and maybe even help Casey and a little 'cause, from what I've seen, he could really use a friend…"

Stokely was quiet for a minute, giving Sam only a blank stare, before she started to laugh and pushed herself away from the locker and began walking again. "Is that all this is?" she chuckled, looking at Sam. "So you really wanna help him?" Sam nodded. "Alright… there's this girl, the bipolar bitch of hell, named Delilah, you've met her, haven't you?" Sam nodded. "Yeah, see, she likes to torment everybody of a lower social status but Casey's always been her favorite… probably because he's had a crush on her since he was, like, thirteen… really he's the school wuss, school punching bag, whatever you wanna call it, but she started it and now pretty much everybody who's anybody is in on it…

"It's like this plan," Stokely said as they turned the corner. "Or a pact or an agreement or something, I dunno… but they're all set on making sure that he never has any friends so that no one can get in their way, so he'll never stand up for himself or fight back. They trade you popularity to forget him or betray him and if you don't accept the bill they make your life a living hell until you do… they've done it ever since high school started. There have been lots of people," Stokely looked at Sam, catching her off guard as she said, "People like you… people who say they want to help and say they want to be his friend but when it all comes down to it; they always trash him, too…

"I saw you talking with Delilah that day," Stokely looked a head again. "Casey saw you, too… he thinks she's already gotten to you; that this is all one big set up she's made for him to give everyone a good long laugh at his expense…"

Sam looked down at her feet. She remembered… Tina and Delilah, telling her about that position on the cheerleading squad, Tina acting dumb and nervous while Delilah was so careful and put together… that wasn't an opportunity; that was an offer. That was something they were offering her to trade for her friendship towards Casey.

"I get it now," Sam whispered. "I think I know what to do," she looked back up at the goth girl to her left. "Thank you, Stokely, I wont forget this!"

"Don't go all freak show on me," Stokely scoffed. "It's disgusting…"

Sam smiled. "Just… thanks."

"Don't sweat it…"

Friday – Casey sat alone at a table in the courtyard at lunchtime. He didn't feel like walking; not today… the air was warm and balmy and the sun was high in the sky but a decent amount of overcast fell over it on and off, giving off an odd gray surreal light, he couldn't really describe.

He heard the lupine noise of girls giggling, for once not at him, as he raised his camera and toyed with the zoom and focus, preparing to snap a shot of the sun through the twisted and tangled branches of the old trees. The shutter clicked and he heard someone sit down beside him. He lowered the camera, hesitantly, and looked to his right.

It was Sam. Her hair was up and clipped to the back of her head in a long jaw clip, with little disobedient pieces hanging around her chin. She wore a plain black choker, too.

He sighed, his right hand reaching for his lunch while his left helped him to stand up, but her left hand clamped down around his right's wrist. The grasp was strong, but not painful… and urgent. He jerked his head back up and looked at her with wide, surprised, and slightly baffled, blue eyes.

"Sit down," she said, very slowly, but not demanding at all… infact, he could have detected a little hint of pleading behind it, if he wasn't mistaken. Her eyes were large and imploring, and gave away the clarity that she really had no idea how he was going to react at all… just hope… a fool's hope… but he did.

He didn't say anything at all, and she let her hand remain around his wrist, but loosened the grip. "Look," she began in a soft voice. "I'm sorry about what happened before. I know what happened now… someone told me, okay? They told me all about what happened to you… before… and they told me… about Delilah, and–"

"–What about me?" interrupted a voice to Sam's right. Casey looked up and Sam turned her head to see the brunette beauty that had slid in beside Sam, resting her back against the table, legs crossed on the outside, head turned to her right to look at Sam. "You know what? Forget it. Let's talk about you, Samantha–"

"–Sam–"

"–Samantha's better. OH! Or how about Sammy? That's just too cute!"

"Exactly…"

"Anyway!" Delilah sang, then she leaned in, putting an arm around Sam's shoulders, and began to speak in a low tone as they should actually want to spare Casey's feelings. "You really shouldn't be seen with 'people like him', 'they' can damage your public image, and you're just getting started here at Harrington; you don't want to make the wrong impression… and we can't have apossible cheerleader associating with 'those people', can we? Stick with me, Sammy, and I'll keep you safe…"

There was a long pause between the three, and Casey watched on pins and needles, eyes flickering back and forth between the two girls. Finally, Sam spoke:

"… Really?" she purred in a low, even tone. "Well, first of all, it's Sam. It always has been Sam; it always will be Sam, and if you ever call me 'Sammy' again… let's just say you wont be saying much of anything after that… Secondly, I'd like to thank you for your ever so generous offer carefully laced with bullshit… but I know all about your little game and I'm not buying it… plus I'd rather chew my own throat out then be a cheerleader… Thirdly, so far the only person my being seen with that has damaged my image to anyone was you, and I really can't have that, now, can I? You said it yourself; don't wanna make the wrong impression… plus, I like my friends at least decent on the humane scale and I'd much rather be scoffed at by brain dead shit heads like you, then be one of you… Anything else?"

Sam looked to both her left and her right… there were shocked expressions all around. Delilah; shocked that she'd turn down a chance to be pretty and popular for a loser like Casey, and Casey for… well… the same reason, really.

"Well if that's everything," Sam said, closing Delilah's mouth with one finger and a wicked smirk, then standing up, her hand leaving Casey's wrist for the first time since she'd grasped it. She stepped around the bench and nudged his arm. "C'mon, Case…"

Casey looked up at her and blinked several times before shaking his head and rejoining reality. He stood up and stumbled over the bench, grabbing his lunch as she had already grabbed hers. They turned and began to walk away, but didn't make it much more then ten feet before Delilah bounced back…

"Sam," Delilah called, and the girl in question turned half away around, slowing her pace by quit a bit, and Casey slowed to the same speed, peaking over his shoulder hesitantly at Delilah. "I'm giving you one more chance but it's your last one; don't walk away like this!"

"Stop me," Sam called back, smiled devilishly, and gave her a curt little wave, before turning back around and walking away with Casey without looking back ever again.