Chapter Six: 409 In Your Coffeemaker
Sam stared down at his breakfast- John had taken them to the diner across the road- and could have felt less like eating. His pancakes were getting soggy by now but Sam couldn't have tried to swallow them for the lump in his throat.
Sam always hated the first day at a new school; never sure of the reception he would receive. Usually Dean would be with him, walking beside him and giving his shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze before they parted ways for the day; but Dean was not with them now. Dean was miles away in Minnesota and Sam would have to face the new school alone.
Sam sighed and pushed his plate away. His Dad didn't seem to notice, he continued to read his newspaper and sip from a mug of black coffee.
"Are you finished, sweetie?" The waitress asked Sam and he nodded as she took his plate away. Sam blushed and looked away from the waitress- an older woman with graying brown hair and laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth- and pointedly stared out the window as she offered to top off John's mug of coffee.
Sam's father was going to spend the day talking to the local police, taking a look at the crime scenes and getting witness statements from the neighbours.
The boy couldn't help but fidget as he waited for his father to finish. Sam checked his watch and saw that it was already eight ten- school started at eight thirty- and he didn't want to draw attention to himself by being late.
"Um, Dad," Sam began, "School starts in twenty minutes."
John set his paper down and gulped the rest of his coffee. He took his wallet out and slipped a few bills underneath his saucer.
"C'mon then," John stood, noticing that his son hadn't moved, and grabbed his jacket, "I thought you were worried about being late."
Sam slipped out of the booth after his father and silently followed him out of the diner.
W
Panting, Sam pushed open the blue-painted double doors to the junior high and moved through the crowded hallway. He'd ran all the way but he'd made it at least.
Sam stared down at the slightly crumpled paper in his hand- it was his schedule and the secretary had penned the combination for his locker on it as well- and stared at the unfamiliar student body surrounding him.
"Excuse me-" Sam began asking a boy closest to him but the kid turned away and began talking to someone else.
"Uh, can you help-" Sam tried again, asking a blond-haired girl this time but she just giggled at him from behind her hand and ignored him.
Sam's shoulders slumped; what was he doing here? He didn't belong in school, not really, he was a hunter and he shouldn't be acting like some nerdy kid.
Dad needs you to find the shapeshifter, Sam reminded himself, Dad thinks it's one of these kids and you're the only one who can prove that.
Sam jumped as the bell rang out and the crowd thinned, students grumbling and shuffling off to their homerooms.
He made his way silently through the deserted halls, intent on finding his locker first.
"Hey! What are you doing out here? You should be in class," a voice behind Sam made him turn sharply.
He saw a round, older woman with gray hair held up in a tight bun and keen blue eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses. Her high-heeled shoes clacked noisily on the floors as she made her way toward Sam.
"I'm sorry, I was trying to find my locker," Sam apologized and held his schedule out to the woman.
Her expression softened when she took the paper from Sam and squinted at it through her spectacles. She clicked her tongue and handed the schedule back.
"Your locker's on the second floor," she told him, "Just go up that flight of stairs and it should be at the end of the hall to the left."
Sam nodded, "Uh, thank you Miss…"
The woman smiled in a friendly way, "Mrs. Gates. I'm the guidance councilor."
Sam nodded again, "I better go… don't want to be late."
"Feel free to stop by and see me anytime," Mrs. Gates offered and Sam made a mental note to stay away from the woman.
It wouldn't do him any good to get too familiar with the staff, Sam knew, and even less for him to become friends with her.
Sam found his locker exactly where Mrs. Gates said it would be. He slipped his backpack off his shoulders and shoved it into the narrow space. He checked his watch and saw it was now eight forty! He might as well skip homeroom this morning, no point in going to class only to be late on his first day.
Sam headed toward the boys' bathroom and sat in the stall until he heard the bell ring for second period. He sighed and stood.
Just about to open the stall door he paused when he heard someone enter the bathroom. Sam knew he should just leave, no one would know him anyway but something told him to stay.
Two sets of footfalls sounded on the tiled floor and two distinctly different voices began to speak.
"Can you believe Tyrone Sullivan's parents were killed? Just like that?" The first voice, a high, reedy sounding voice spoke.
The second voice scoffed, "And now the asshole's missing? Probably whacked his own parents and ran away with all their money."
The first voice laughed, "Whacked? What're you, in the mafia or something? Man, you've gotta stop watching all those Godfather movies."
"Hey, those are great! Don't diss Don Corleone or you'll be sleeping with the fishes," the second voice imitated the character and the two laughed.
Sam waited until the duo had left before leaving the stall.
Tyrone Sullivan. That was one of the kids in Sam's own grade. Sam knew he was failing his classes and he'd been sent to the principal's office numerous times for bullying other students.
So he was some snobby brat, Sam thought, doesn't mean he had to die though.
Sam hoped that the kid wasn't dead. Tyrone's parents were dead but he was still missing so there was no way to know exactly what the shapeshifter had done with the boy after it had finished using him.
Sam stared at himself in the mirror. He looked pretty unremarkable, he guessed. His chestnut-coloured hair was a little too long for his father's liking, the light in his green eyes was perhaps a little too mature for someone his age and he was frowning. His clothes were a little too big on him- hand-me-downs from Dean- and a few years out of date.
Yeah, if there was a shapeshifter stalking the rich kids of Ulysses S. Grant Junior High, it would not be attracted to Sam at all.
My clothes practically scream 'I'M POOR!', Sam thought with mixed feelings.
W
Sam was introduced to the students in his second period class as Sam Westfield- a pseudonym his father had thought up when he'd enrolled his son- and told to pick any seat he liked.
Sam didn't pay attention as the teacher droned on and on about the geography of India. Instead, he surreptitiously studied all the kids in his class.
He could easy point out which ones were the nerds, the jocks, the popular girls, the loners, the losers, etc.
It always amazed Sam how all the kids, in every school he'd ever been to, seemed to fit into neat little categories, like they were different species or something.
And I fill in the New Kid spot nicely, Sam thought glumly.
W
Sam followed the rest of the herd down the hall to the cafeteria. He wasn't looking forward to lunch. He had no money and John hadn't bought anything that Sam could eat at school. Sam looked at the kitchen area longingly for a moment, his stomach grumbling to remind him that he had barely eaten his breakfast, and made his way to an empty table to wait until the next period started.
"Hey," a voice startled Sam a little and he looked up to see a boy had come to sit at his table.
"This seat's not taken is it?" the boy asked and chuckled at his own joke.
"Uh, no, go ahead," Sam said without much interest.
The boy sat and put a large paper bag on the table. Sam watched him curiously. The boy brought out four sandwiches, an apple, a banana, three granola bars and a bottle of Gatorade.
The boy saw Sam staring and he shook his head, embarrassed.
"It's my Dad, he's trying to bulk me up so I can play football in high school like my brother," he explained.
"Oh," Sam replied.
The boy didn't look like he could be a football player; he was short, shorter even than Sam, with light blond hair that stuck up in spikes with gel and watery blue eyes.
"You're the new kid, right?" the boy asked, unwrapping the cellophane from a crust-less roast beef sandwich.
"Yeah," Sam nodded.
"I'm Russell," the boy answered and to Sam's surprise, slid two of his sandwiches over to him.
"Go ahead, I never eat everything anyway," Russell shrugged.
"Thanks," Sam muttered and took the plastic-wrap off one of the sandwiches.
"So, new kid, you got a name?" Russell asked as he munched away.
"Sam," he answered and took a bite of his sandwich- tuna fish- and began eating gratefully.
Russell nodded, "Where are you from, Sam?"
Sam swallowed, "Wisconsin," he answered; using the last state his family had hunted in as his home.
W
Sam walked back to the Summit Motel after school had let out, feeling somewhat better about the current hunt.
Russell was a really nice guy and he knew everything about everyone in the school. He had been really chatty during lunch but he hadn't asked Sam too many questions and that had endeared him to the youngest Winchester.
Sam found that he couldn't wait to see Russell the next school day, not only because he might know something about the rich kids, but because he was really friendly and God knew friends were in short supply for the Winchesters.
The Impala was sitting in its parking spot in front of the room. Sam's shoulders slumped slightly; he'd hoped that his father would still be out interviewing witnesses when he got home.
Sam pushed open the door and saw John seated at the small table, papers strewn across it. John's hands were gripping his dark hair and his eyes narrowed in concentration.
"Hey Dad," Sam greeted his father softly.
John looked up, "Close the door."
Sam set his backpack on his bed, "I think I found something."
"What?" John's interest suddenly peaked with news about the case.
"I met this guy, he knows practically everyone at the school and he may be able to help us figure out who the shapeshifter will go after next," Sam explained quickly.
John stared at his youngest son for a moment, "You were not actually looking for the shifter though?"
Sam lifted his chin defiantly, "No, but I-"
John shook his head, "I gave you one job, Sammy, one job. And what was that?"
"Look for the shapeshifter?" Sam offered.
"And instead you go off socializing!" John exclaimed, "Damn it, Sam!"
Sam bit his lip.
"I wasn't socializing! I was trying to find out about the victims!" Sam argued, his voice becoming high-pitched with his irritation.
John shook his head, "I don't want to hear it, Sam."
"You never listen to me! How am I supposed to know who the shapeshifter is? Huh? Stab every kid there with a silver blade or bring a huge camera around and see if I can capture an eye-flare?" Sam demanded; his anger overwhelming his sense of caution.
John stood up so fast the chair he'd been sitting in, fell back with a clatter. He pointed one thick finger in his son's face.
"You watch your tone, boy," John warned and Sam backed down.
Sam hesitated for a moment, unsure if his father was going to continue. John just shook his head and turned back to his papers. Sam took a deep breath and pulled his notebooks from his backpack; he might as well do homework and wait for his Dad to fill him in on what he had found.
1. Chapter title comes from a Green Day song of the same name.
2. Thanks to SPN Mum, cold kagome, Samstruck for reviewing.
3. Thanks to everyone who Favourited and Alerted.
4. Review! Review! Review! Please.