Twelve Days of Christmas

Thursday, December 21st

(Four days until Christmas)

Volleyball was Sam's favorite free activity in gym, especially when she could get more than just her and Danny and Tucker to play. It was hard, sometimes, because Tucker was terrible and she always had him on her team, and Danny was inevitably snared by the females of whatever team he was on. It didn't make having a nice competitive game easy, but when she could get one going Sam always enjoyed it.

"Tucker! It's coming your way!" she yelled, hoping that he could at least clip it and send the ball back up in the air.

It was a white streak headed for his head and Tucker ducked, much to her dismay. She tried to dive for it, barking her knees on the gym floor, and her fingers missed it by inches. Sam groaned as she rolled over to lie on her back for a moment, a bruise already forming along the side of her left knee.

"God, Tuck. Why do I even try with you?" Her voice was pained as she hauled herself up to sit and rub her knees, inspecting the faint blue that was rapidly darkening.

He shrugged at her. "Just lucky?"

She glared up at him. "Well, at least you didn't scream like a girl this time." Her glare turned grin. Out of the corner of her eye Sam caught a shadow nearing and turned to Danny's quiet footsteps.

"You okay?" he asked, kneeling and moving her hands to inspect her knees. He hissed at the bruise that was now edging past purple and towards black. "That looks nasty."

His fingers skimmed the skin, his powers rising to cool the swelling flesh. Sam flushed a little, his fingers feeling far too right at that moment, almost as if he had looked for this excuse to touch her. She shook her head knowing that she was reading far too much into the simple, friendly help. It certainly didn't help that she wanted to read too much into it; but that was something she needed to shove away as deep as she could. Danny had told her he had nothing to be jealous of and, even if it felt ambiguous, it wasn't. He had no need to be jealous, he didn't care for her like that.

"It's fine," Sam said quietly, shifting herself away from his cooling touch and scrambling to her feet. She wasted no time in sending a kick Tucker's way, barking his shin hard enough to know he'd have a bruise, too. She snapped at him, "Next time don't even bother ducking. At least your head might have been a good stop for the ball."

He raised his hands defensively as Danny climbed to his own feet. "Hey, don't get pissed at me, Ms. Competitive. You know I suck at sports."

Tucker was saved from the retort he could see sparking up in her eyes by Coach Tetslaff's whistle, and Sam took the opportunity to flee her friends. To flee Danny, she could admit it. God, she wanted it to be him. The scene in his bedroom last night had only driven home how much she loved him, and how badly she wanted him to love her. But it wasn't meant to be, and Sam buried the love and hurt as deeply as she could inside herself as she tugged her clothes out of her locker and headed for the shower.

She was one of the few girls in her gym class who routinely availed herself of the showers, but Sam was fastidious and didn't want to sit through her final period with sweat drying and smelling dank. Besides, she had nothing to be ashamed of. She was thin and maintained her healthy weight easily through her vegan diet and active lifestyle, and if anyone said anything about her navel ring and the tiny tattoo on her back, she was eighteen and legally allowed to express herself as she chose. (So far the worst thing that had happened was that Paulina had called her a dyke in front of half the gym class; Sam had told Paulina she was jealous because unlike Paulina, Sam didn't have tan lines. It still amused her at this late date.)

She was dripping and wrapped in a towel, readying herself to dress when coach Tetslaff interrupted her, a brilliant green envelope held out to her. Resigned, Sam took it, clinging to the towel with one hand and holding the next gift in the other. She tucked her towel and sat on the edge of the bench, ignoring the now gathering gaggle of females, and Star's ever present demand to open it.

She did, and when she saw the card she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Straight out of Fantasia, a movie Sam knew well from a childhood obsession. She didn't know whether to think her admirer knew her so well, or that maybe it was just a coincidence. She was beginning to believe that there were no coincidences where this man was concerned; he knew far too much about her. She knew there would be nine, but she counted the tutu-bedecked hippo's anyway. Four down either side of the picture, and the prima en pointe at the head.

"Nine ladies fucking dancing," she muttered savagely as she opened the card to find a slip of paper neatly folded within. The seal at the top was all too familiar, and the neatly printed words threw her.

Dear Miss Manson,

The Humane Society of Central Illinois thanks you for your donation. Because of it we will be able to feed and care for more animals in our continued effort to circumvent euthanasia.

Oh, he knew her. He had to—this couldn't be coincidence at all. He knew her, he was stalking her if she cared to be crude and blunt about it. She didn't even finish drying properly before she tugged her clothes on and headed back to her locker to grab her backpack, the letter crumpled in her hand with the card as she ducked out of the locker room, not caring if the bell hadn't rung. She knew Danny and Tucker would already be waiting, and she didn't want to make them wait too long.

On sight she shoved her handful at Tucker.

"I have no idea who it is," Sam said as she leaned against a wall, ignoring the envelope that was now in Tucker's hands as Danny peered over his shoulder to read it. "He knows me. He has to. But I can't figure out who it could be."

Tucker thought about it for a second. "Hey, Sam? Who said it had to be a he?"