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Eleven-year old Sam leaned against her locker, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for her best friend, Carly.
Where is she? Sam thought. I never get to school before her! Maybe Spencer got stuck to something again…
Right at that moment, though, Carly walked around the corner, laughing with Freddie.
"Hi, Sam!" Carly said brightly.
"Hey," Freddie greeted her.
"Hey Carls," Sam said, ignoring Freddie's greeting. "What took you so long to get to school?"
"Oh, Freddie here was just showing me and Spencer how to get our computer to stop falling asleep every ten minutes," Carly smiled. "And we lost track of time. But Freddie really knows his computer stuff!"
"Oh, it was no big deal," Freddie said modestly. "All I had to do was go into your computer's settings and-"
"Yeah, real lame story," Sam cut him off. "But Carly's got me now, her friend, to keep her company, so you can just run along and nerd up somebody else's air."
"Sam, Freddie's my friend too," Carly said. "Don't be so rude to him."
"She's always rude to me," Freddie mumbled.
"What was that?" Sam snapped.
"Nothing!" Freddie said quickly.
"I'm serious," Carly said firmly to Sam. "Freddie's a really nice guy if you give him a chance. He's been across the hall from me for almost six months now and you still just throw insults at him when he hangs out with us."
"She's right, Sam," Freddie said bravely. "And as Carly's future husband, you should really start getting used to me being around."
"Er, no, no, I told you," Carly said. "We're just friends, Freddie."
"For now," Freddie shrugged.
"Oh come on! How can I not make fun of him when he acts that pathetic?" Sam snapped.
"I am not pathetic!" Freddie defended just as the first bell sounded. "Oh! Gotta run otherwise I'll be late for being early! Bye, Carly."
"Why does he have to hang around us?" Sam asked as Freddie hurried off.
"I told you, because he's nice," Carly said. "Why do you have such a problem with him anyway?"
"I told you, because he's a doof!"
"He is not," Carly said. "Besides, you're being extra aggressive with him, even if you do consider him a doof. Just in the past two weeks you've put shaving cream in his socks, put pink hair dye in his shampoo, shoved him into at least thirty trashcans and hit him with that sock filled with tomatoes you made."
"I still think I can find something to make an even better sock weapon," Sam said thoughtfully. "What do you think about maybe cream cheese…or butter?"
"Sam stop. For real, what is your deal with Freddie?"
"He just bugs me, that's all!" Sam said. "He's a nerd, a dork, a loser, a-a nub!"
"What's a nub?" Carly asked.
"He is!"
"You know," Carly said, giving the blonde a small grin. "There is that saying that girls sometimes make fun of guys when they like them. Is that the case here? Do you like Freddie?"
"Carly," Sam said simply. "I'm going to give you ten seconds to take that back before I puke all over your shoes."
The second bell then rang through the hall.
"Come on, let's just get to class," Carly said. "And when we get in there, maybe it'd be nice if you apologized to Freddie for-"
"Nope."
"Well," Carly sighed. "It was worth a try…"
The girls headed into their classroom where, of course, Freddie was already sitting front and center.
"You know, I really like having history first thing in the morning," Carly commented as her and Sam took their seats in the row right behind Freddie.
"Why? It just puts you back to sleep," Sam mumbled.
"Oh come on, history is really exciting," Freddie said, turning around. "Hey, if you want, I can show you guys this cool documentary I have on the Egyptian pyramids!"
"You know, that'd actually be pretty useful for that report we have coming up," Carly said. "Maybe after school today the three of us can-"
"Not happening," Sam said firmly. "It's bad enough I'm forced to learn in school; I'm not doing it on my free time."
"Well, it-it's a pretty fun documentary," Freddie reasoned. "Maybe if you give it a chance you'd-ow!"
As he was talking Sam and pulled out a rubber band from her pocket and shot it straight at Freddie's ear.
"Sam Puckett!" the teacher said loudly, having walked into the room just in time to see what had happened.
"Uh-oh," Sam sighed as Carly let out a long moan.
"What have I told you about terrorizing Mr. Benson in class?" the teacher demanded, stepping in front of Sam's desk.
"Um…see, I-I generally don't listen too well to teachers," Sam said lamely. "So I might have missed-"
"I told you one more stunt and it'd be straight to the principal's office!" the teacher said firmly. "Now you can march yourself down there right now!"
"Fine!" Sam groaned, pushing back her seat and getting up. "Thanks a lot, Fredbag."
"What'd I do?"
"You were too much of a target for me to resist!"
Sam left the classroom and headed down to the front office.
"Ah, Ms. Puckett," the receptionist said as she stepped inside. "Back again? Which teacher sent you here this time?"
"Ms. Whitly," Sam answered, sitting down in one of the chairs and kicking her feet up on the small table scattered with various editions of the school newspaper. "She has it out for me…"
"Yes, apparently all your teachers do, and you're just an innocent victim," the receptionist said, rolling her eyes.
"That's what I've been saying!"
The receptionist sighed. "Alright, Principal Franklin will see you now. You know where his office is."
"Yeah, yeah," Sam said, getting to her feet. She headed back and let herself into the room behind the front desk.
"Samantha," Franklin sighed. "I wish I could say I was happy to see you again…have a seat. What are you in for today?"
"I shot a rubber band at another student's ears," Sam muttered.
"Uh-huh…" Franklin said slowly. "And that other student…he wouldn't happen to be Mr. Benson again, would he?"
"Hey, how'd you know?"
"Samantha, I'm starting to get even more concerned with your acting out," Franklin said heavily. "Ever since Freddie has moved here it seems you've made it your mission to put him in the center of all your little pranks and stunts. You keep going and you're going to be on the verge of suspension."
Sam looked down at her lap.
"I'm going to give you two weeks of detention," Franklin said firmly.
"Yeah, whatever," Sam sighed.
"And you'll come in during lunch for the next two days to help file papers in here."
"Alright."
"And of course I'll have to call your mother-"
"You can't," Sam said. "She's not here."
"Well where is she?" Franklin frowned.
"I-I don't know, she didn't say," Sam mumbled. "She just left on Saturday and told me to either stay over with Carly or to pitch a tent in the backyard. She said she'd be back in ten days or six weeks."
Franklin's glare lessened slightly. "Okay, well…I'll just contact her later."
"Great," Sam said. "So can I go now and-"
"No," Franklin said. "Sam, I was serious before; if this behavior streak of yours keeps up, I'll have no choice by to take more drastic action. I don't want to; I know you're a good kid deep down. And this recent spike in your deviance does seem odd…and all your actions seem to only be targeted to Freddie…"
"That's not true," Sam said. "I threw pudding at that weird Gibby kid the other day."
"That was you?" Franklin said. "Huh…I thought he just came to school like that again. But anyway, Sam, I do want to get to the root of this problem, so I am going to arrange for you to see the school's therapist. She's a woman who you'll be able to talk with and-"
"Yeah, I know how a therapist works, my mom's dated like, twelve of them," Sam said. "But why do I need to see one? Haven't you punished me enough?"
"It's not a punishment," Franklin told her. "But you will get a punishment if I find out you don't go to your sessions, got it?"
"Fine," Sam conceded. "But do I have to sit there and talk about my feelings and junk?"
"I don't know, once you enter that room, you aren't my problem anymore," Franklin shrugged. "Now, Ms. Lanley, the therapist, has an opening today after school. I'll excuse you from that first detention you have so you can go."
"Yeah, okay," Sam said, getting to her feet. "Um, do-do I have to tell anybody else I'm going to the therapist?"
"Not if you don't want to," Franklin told her. "And you don't have to worry about Ms. Lanley talking about anything the two of you discuss in your sessions either; it's a very safe environment. Now hurry back to class; the period's just about to end, but you'll have time to get the work you've missed from Ms. Whitly."
Sam headed back to her classroom and reached it just as the bell rang.
"Hey, so what happened?" Carly asked as she stepped out of the class and spotted Sam by the door. "How much trouble did you get in?"
"Eh, just the usual," Sam shrugged nonchalantly. "I got detention and office duty. No big deal."
"Well my ear still really hurts!" Freddie said indignantly as he joined the two girls outside the classroom.
"Good, then my shot's getting even better," Sam smirked.
"Sam…you need to apologize," Carly said firmly, giving the blonde a look that she knew meant business.
Sam groaned. "Do I-"
"Yes."
"Ugh! You're killing me!" Sam moaned. She looked over at Freddie. "I'm sorry your ear got in the way of my rubber band."
"My ear was not in the way of-"
"Just take it," Carly said to Freddie. "It's the best you're gonna get. Anyway, you guys are both coming over after school today, right? Spencer wants us to help him with this cool horse sculpture."
"I can't, I have that detention, remember?" Sam said.
"Oh right," Carly nodded. "Well you can come by after if you want."
"Eh, we'll see," Sam shrugged. "Working on sculptures with Spencer has kind of lost its appeal ever since the dork started tagging along."
"Sam…" Carly sighed. "Must we keep going in the same insult loop?"
"We must," Sam grinned. "Hey, I'm gonna stop by the vending machine; I'll see you in class…maybe."
As Sam hurried off, Carly turned to Freddie. "She-She doesn't mean that."
"Yes she does," Freddie said heavily. "Why does she hate me so much, Carly? Did I do something to her without realizing?"
"No, you didn't do anything," Carly assured him. "You'll see once you get to know Sam a little better; this is just what she does. Giving people a hard time is-it's a sign of affection!"
"She doesn't give you a hard time," Freddie pointed out.
"Well no, but we've been best friends for three years," Carly chuckled. "I've paid my dues. But when we were younger Sam would steal my sandwiches and…and, well, I-I guess that was the extent of it, but-but she doesn't take my sandwiches anymore! Well…as often. Look, my point is, eventually Sam will realize that you're a nice friend to have around and she'll lay off with the stunts. I mean you really don't think she's going to be pranking you and giving you wedgies when we're like, sixteen, do you?"
"Well…that would be pretty immature," Freddie reasoned. "Even for her. But-But you really think we'll all be friends when we're older still?"
"Sure I do," Carly smiled
"Do-Do you think we'd ever maybe be more than friends-"
"Freddie," Carly chuckled. "I've told you; we're buds, hall mates, science lab partners…but that's going to always be the extent of it. I'm sure you'll find a nice girl one day who you'll really be in love with."
"I doubt it," Freddie mumbled.
…
After school that day Sam took a deep breath before knocking on the door of the school therapist.
This is so stupid; it's just a waste of time, Sam thought to herself. I'd rather be in detention! At least there's cool people in there.
"You must be Sam," a young, smiling woman said as she opened the door. "I'm Ms. Lanley. Come on in, sweetheart."
Sweetheart? Sam thought as she stepped into the office.
The room was fairly small. There was just two couches and a desk and a bookshelf filled with various texts.
"How long do I have to be here today?" Sam asked as she plopped down on the couch.
"Well, my sessions typically last about thirty minutes, but since I'm not seeing anyone else today, you can stay as long as you want," Ms. Lanley said cheerfully.
"Um…I was thinking more along the lines of getting out of here as quick as possible," Sam said.
To her surprise, Ms. Lanley didn't seem to get offended by that comment at all.
"Well, that's fine too," she said. "You don't have to stay long. We can just chat for a little bit and then you can be on your way."
"What are we supposed to talk about?" Sam asked.
"Hmm," Ms. Lanley said, opening up a manila folder on her lap. "Well…why don't you tell me about this Freddie Benson."
"Freddie?" Sam frowned. "How come?"
"He seems to be the target of your aggression lately," she pointed out. "In fact, these past few months it seems he's been your exclusive target."
"Does nobody remember me hitting the weird Gibby guy with pudding?" Sam exclaimed.
"Isn't he always covered in pudding?"
"Alright, alright, so…so-so what you're saying is I should expand my victim pool?" Sam asked. "Okay, that makes sense I guess."
"No, um, what I'm saying is…why the particular interest in this Freddie? Is he a friend of yours?"
"Pfft, no way," Sam scoffed. "He's not my friend. He's just some kid that moved in across the hall from my actual best friend, Carly."
"Ah," the therapist nodded. "So are Freddie and Carly friends?"
"Yes," Sam said darkly. "It's sickening. Carly's super nice and won't tell the loser to get lost, so I've had to deal with him for the past six months. He hangs around all the time. And Carly keeps trying to get me to be friends with him too!"
"Well why is that such a bad idea?" Ms. Lanley asked. "Why don't you become friends with Freddie?"
"Because he's a doof!" Sam exclaimed. "I keep telling this to Carly; he's nothing but a geeky mama's boy who has a creepy crush on her."
"Freddie has a crush on Carly?" Ms. Lanley said, intrigued. "Are you sure?"
"Oh yeah…he doesn't hide it," Sam nodded. "He's convinced Carly's going to be his future wife."
"Well how does that make you feel?"
"Huh?"
"How do you feel about Freddie really liking Carly so much?" Ms. Lanley repeated.
"I-I don't know," Sam said. "Sickened, I guess. I mean I'd feel bad for any girl who had to date the guy, let alone marry him. Besides, Carly's already shot him down a million times, but he just can't seem to get it through his head that Carly will never love him. And anyway, practically every boy in the sixth grade has a crush on Carly; he's got competition."
"Every boy, huh?"
"Yeah," Sam mumbled. "They're always coming up to Carly and telling her she's really nice and pretty. And-And they pass her little notes with hearts on it and one time someone even left a rose in her locker."
"Does anybody ever do anything like that for you?"
"No!" Sam said. "And-And good thing, too! Because-Because I'd beat anybody up who tried anything mushy like that with me. It's-It's gross. I do not want that."
The therapist nodded. "Well…is there anything else about Freddie? Besides his doofiness?"
"What do you mean?"
"He has to have some other qualities, doesn't he?" Ms. Lanley chuckled. "Is he good at any sport?"
"He's the least athletic person I've ever met," Sam smirked. "But…I guess he's good with computers and stuff."
"Well that's interesting, don't you think?"
"In a geeky way, sure, I guess," Sam shrugged. "He-He did fix up this old desktop I have at my house that I can actually use now. But-But whatever, he-he's still a totally lame dork!"
Ms. Lanley smiled. "Well Sam…for someone who you claim to not like so passionately….he seems to be consuming a lot of your time, doesn't he?"
"What?"
"Well, usually when you don't like someone, you try not to be around them," Ms. Lanley explained. "Yet…it seems like you're around him quite a bit."
"Yeah, because Carly makes me," Sam said. "I told you that!"
"Well," she said, looking down at her folder at the notes she had from Sam's record. "Did Carly make you wait around for two hours after school last week until Freddie got out of his AV club meeting to throw flour at him? That was two hours of waiting that you could've been spending time with your best friend without Freddie."
"Well…I-I-" Sam said lamely.
"And it says here that you actually came to school an hour early last month to fill his locker with packing peanuts," Ms. Lanley continued. "Now for someone who was consistently tardy before he came to this school, I'd say you'd have to make quite a bit of effort there."
"So?" Sam frowned. "I-I take pride in pranking people. That's all."
"Okay," she nodded. "However, I will say…it does seem…odd that you'd focus so much of your time and energy on someone who is, as you said, just a doof, if you really only hated him."
"I do only hate him!" Sam snapped. "You-You're not gonna pull that 'girls pick on the boys they like' junk on me like Carly did, are you?"
"I'm not going to pull anything on you," the therapist told her. "The point of my sessions are for you to form your own conclusions about your behavior so that you can accept them."
"Well my conclusion is this," Sam said. "I hate Freddie Benson, and I will always hate Freddie Benson. He's always going to be just the dork across the hall from my best friend until she wises up and ditches him."
"And that's your final say?" the therapist smiled, almost knowingly. "You'll never see Freddie Benson as anything more?"
"Never," Sam said firmly. "Not in a million years."
