Body

"I can't believe Carly actually made us spend our entire Friday night making invitations for Gibby's surprise party," Sam groaned as she tossed an envelope onto her coffee table.

"Well you were the one who went and spilled gravy all over the ones she made," Freddie pointed out, placing another envelope on top of the one Sam had thrown. "It's your fault. I'm just here because Carly knew you wouldn't do anything if you were left on your own. Don't know why I had to be here though…you still didn't do a thing."

"I just finished an invitation!" Sam defended.

"Yeah, one," Freddie said. "I've done fifty!"

"Well why do we need to many invitations anyway?" Sam said, rolling her eyes. "It's a party for Gibby."

"He's surprisingly popular," Freddie said, sealing another envelope. "Alright…that's it. We-Sorry, I finished all the invitations. And it's only…eleven o'clock. Well, this is a Friday night I'll never get back."

"Oh like you really had plans," Sam scoffed, siting back on her couch.

"Well I'm gonna head home," Freddie said, getting to his feet. "Just try not to spill any more gravy on these invitations or else we'll have to-"

Just then there was a loud clasp of thunder and Sam and Freddie turned around to see sheets of rain spilling from the sky.

"What the-the sky was totally clear tonight!" Freddie frowned.

"Dude, you've lived in Seattle how long?" Sam said. "It's a freak storm. Hopefully you brought an umbrella to keep you dry on your way home."

"What? I can't leave in this!" Freddie said.

"Ugh, you've already been nubbing up my living room for hours, though!" Sam moaned.

Freddie glared at her.

"Fine, you can stay," Sam said. "But only because I'm such a nice person. But this storm better pass real quick…"

"-So how are people supposed to tell you and Melanie apart?" Freddie asked two hours later as he stared at a picture of Sam and Melanie when they were five years old. "I mean you guys are super identical."

"I don't know, I think she has a freckle or something," Sam moaned, looking out the window at the rain that was still teaming down. "Ugh, when is this rain going to stop so you can leave already?"

"What am I doing?" Freddie frowned.

"I just want to go to bed, I'm exhausted," Sam said. "Carly woke me up at seven in the morning to ask what skirt she should wear to school today to try and impress that Phil kid in Anatomy class. I need a solid twelve hours of sleep each night."

"Yeah, I'm tired too," Freddie yawned. "It's after one. How long can it rain?"

"Well, according to my weather app, all night," Sam said, glancing down at her phone. "Alright, well, why don't you just crash here?"

"You want me to sleep here?"

"Well you're being a baby about going out in a little drizzle," Sam said as a loud clasp of thunder sounded in the background. "So just sleep on the couch. I'll even grab you a blanket and pillow since you are kind of a priss."

"Um…I dunno," Freddie said reluctantly.

"What?" Sam said. "Is your mom gonna freak out or something."

"Well no, she's at work," Freddie replied.

"Then what is your problem?" Sam said.

"I've never slept over here before," Freddie mumbled.

"Yes…and?"

"Well…it's just…"

"Are you scared?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Um…"

"Look, I promise I won't fill your shoes with peanut butter or put grape jelly in your hair or do anything else to mess with you while you're asleep," Sam said. "So calm down. I'm way too tired for that."
"It's not that," Freddie said.

"Well then what?"

"It's your neighborhood!" Freddie blurted out.

Sam stared at him. "My neighborhood?"

"Um, sorry, that came out wrong," Freddie said quickly. "I meant to say-"

"No, I think it came out just right," Sam said coolly. "You think because I don't live somewhere as nice and sophisticated as Bushwell Plaza that my neighborhood must be a real dump."

"That's not-"

"It's fine," Sam cut him off. "I get it. This neighborhood isn't as nice as yours. I mean you have about fifty street lights just around your one apartment building, and there's only one busted one on this whole block. There's people clipping their toe nails on their front lawns and throwing bottles at each other for parking in front of their mailboxes."

"Er…"

"Carly's the same way; she thinks I live in some slum or something too," Sam continued. "Why do you think we never hang out over here together? Seriously…I'm used to people being a little uneasy when they come over here. Even Wendy isn't a fan of this place."

"Well, on my way here I did see two women chasing each other down the street with spatulas," Freddie mumbled. "Um, really, I-I'm not trying to say anything against you, but this neighborhood kind of looks like it could be featured in one of those crime shows. All you need is a chalk outline of a body in the middle of the street."

"People don't die around here, nub," Sam scoffed. "Well…old Mrs. Flabberstein did kind of kick the bucket a few months ago, but she was a hundred and one. My mom got to keep a few of her bras. She says they'll come in handy as slingshots at the next family reunion."

"Still…"

"Dude, this might not be the best neighborhood out there, but you know what? The people around here really look out for one another," Sam said. "I know all the people on this street. How many people do you know in your own apartment building."
"Well…there's Carly," Freddie said lamely. "And, um…I said hi to the old lady in apartment 6B once…and…okay fair enough."

"People around here yell and scream at each other, and occasionally someone will toilet paper someone else's house or fill their backyard with baby alligators, but we all genuinely care about each other," Sam said. "Heck, when you first got here Phil, the guy who lives across the street, looked through the window and saw you and sent me a text message asking if I needed him to come over and help get rid of the skeezy guy in my living room."

"This guy is looking through your window and thinks I'm skeezy?" Freddie frowned.

"The point is…this isn't your picture-perfect neighborhood with white picket fences and overly-watered green lawns," Sam said, ignoring his comment. "But…it's not a bad neighborhood."

Freddie was silent.

"I'm going to bed," Sam said. "You…You do what you want. You can rough it out in this thunderstorm…or you can sleep out here."

Freddie pondered his options for a moment. "You know what…I'm being ridiculous. I'll sleep here."

"Good choice," Sam smirked. "Hang on, I'll get you some blankets."

She headed upstairs and returned a moment later with some sheets and a couple of pillows. "There you go. Good night."

She turned to head back up to her room.

"You really know all your neighbors?" Freddie asked suddenly.

Sam looked back at him. "Yeah."
"That's…That's really nice," Freddie said.

"It is," Sam nodded.

"Yeah…" Freddie sighed. "Too bad Bushwell Plaza isn't like that. People don't really seem to want to even say hi to each other anymore. They're all too caught up in their own lives and stuff."

"Eh, I guess that's why everybody's so close around here," Sam yawned, stepping back over to the couch and sitting down. "We all don't have too much to be distracted by."

"So do you like all your neighbors?" Freddie asked, sitting down next to her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you know them, sure, but do you like them?"

"Oh yeah," Sam nodded, yawning again. "They're all really cool. There's Mr. Humphries, who always mows our lawn for us when he does his. He does it wearing a woman's swimsuit, but the job gets done. And there's Ms. Catstafrack. She moved here from some small village in Russia. She makes the best cookies. And the Jeffersons' down the block are a real nice family. Their little son, Tim, is probably the only kid I can tolerate. And there's-"

"Wow, you guys are like one, very unusual, very big family," Freddie chuckled. He leaned back onto the cushions. "I kind of wish I had something like that. I guess Bushwell Plaza is nice enough. And I do have Carly and Spencer across the hall from me. But being able to walk down the hall and actually know the people who live around me would be nice too. Instead everybody just avoids eye contact and walks past each other."
He let out a long sigh. "You know…I bet most people in Bushwell Plaza would come to this neighborhood and think the same thing I did…that it's a dangerous dump. But you know what? I think you're lucky to have this, Sam."

He glanced out the window where the rain was still teaming down heavily.

"I shouldn't have been so quick to judge earlier," he said. "I mean I've heard the old 'don't judge a book by its cover' saying so many time and yet…that's exactly what I did. So…thanks I guess. Thanks for making me realize how wrong my first glance could be…you-you've always helped me with that, I guess. You've always somehow forced me to look at things…at places…at people a little differently. So thanks Sam."

He glanced over at the blonde and suddenly realized that she was passed out; sleeping peacefully.

"Guess you were tired," Freddie chuckled. He carefully unfolded one of the blankets that Sam had brought down for him and draped it over her and gently slid a pillow under her head.

"Good night, Sam," he whispered, settling down next to her on the couch. Before he shut his eyes, he took one more glance at her.

Sam Puckett…his constant reminder that there's always more to something, to some place, to someone than what's on the surface.