Sam came downstairs a little while after I woke up from my nap on the counter.. She headed to -- of course -- the fridge to grab something to eat. "Hey, Sam," I greeted cheerfully.

She jumped a little, making her ponytail bounce, and turned around. "Oh, hey, Spence. I didn't even see you there."

"Seriously? I'm, like, right by the stairs."

"Well, yeah, but I'm also extremely starving and I've got tunnel vision when it comes to food."

I nodded. Duh. "You left Carly and Freddie up there?"

"Mmhm," she said, sipping a can of soda. "Your sculpture's great, by the way."

I tried to be modest. "Aw, thanks, but I had some help from Carly."

She smiled and set the can of soda on top of the kitchen island and bent down to get a bag of chips from the cabinets underneath. Her purple shirt rode up a little bit, and I caught a glimpse of her pale hip underneath. You know, how the smell of pancakes on a Sunday morning might remind someone of their childhood or something? Colors remind me of certain things, and now the color combination of purple and ivory will remind me of Sam.

"You don't have any ranch."

"I don't what?"

"Ranch chips," Sam repeated. "You know they're my favorite."

Her eyes seemed more blue. "I didn't even know you were coming over. Which reminds me -- culinary school. How is it?"

She grinned and picked up the soda. "I'll let you know when I cook you guys dinner."

---

Now, a few years ago, we would all have been frightened at the thought of Sam cooking food. Carly had told me, back when they all first started high school, that Sam had baked cookies once. She and Freddie, though, were wary about whether or not Sam had even washed her hands. But back then she made a pretty darn good cookie, I'm sure, and proved she did have some culinary skill.

Yet I was still a little uneasy as she used these huge knives I didn't even know we had, dicing up vegetables and cubes of chicken. All the while, she was talking to Carly and Freddie about how there was this guy who made this really good pudding once with marshmallows and nuts and stuff. I didn't really pay much attention; I was focusing on her skills with the knife, hoping she didn't cut herself.

"...huh, Spence?" Carly asked.

"What?"

"Remember? That time you ate that old tapioca pudding and thought the green stuff was food coloring they added for production."

I gagged. That stuff still haunts me in nightmares. "Yeah," I said, a bitter taste in my mouth, "I remember. Never remind me again."

Carly laughed. "Sorry. I forgot how traumatized you got."

"Did you even check the expiration date?" Freddie inquired.

"No. That's why I thought it was safe. And I thought tapioca pudding was like canned pineapple, an unparishable or whatever the heck they call canned food these days."

"My teacher was telling us about that last week," Sam said, putting her ingredients into the wok. "She said --"

But then I got distracted again, watching the way she scooped up the broccoli and took it to the stove, talking the whole time. Okay, I was getting a little scared at that point. I mean, I could always pay attention to stuff she talked about, like the time when she was in fifth grade and she told me about putting the smack down on some obnoxious kid in Miss Ooberman's class that kept following her everywhere. I could even remember the kid's name: Samson. But then again -- hardly anyone names their kid Samson anymore...

Still, you get my point, right? She'd tell me all kinds of stuff, and I could remember the majority of it. I could tell you about the first time she told me what she thought about Freddie when they first met, the time she taught me to lie, that day a couple of years ago when she stayed over and talked to me and Carly about how jealous she was of us for having a dad. I payed attention 'cause I felt like it was my duty. I guess I felt like an older brother to her, and now that I was noticing her differently was totally creeping me out.

"Anyway, she told us to never wind surf with a bucket of fried chicken," Sam finished, washing her hands. "Hey, Fredcrack, set the table, will ya?"

Freddie stood up from the stool he was sitting on. " 'Fredcrack,' Sam?"

She shrugged. "It's all I could come up with. Sorry. Ooh, get the fancy ones. And candles!"

"Sam," Carly said, "we don't have any fancy plates."

"Do too," Sam replied, hands on her hips. "They're brown with green trim. I know that because those are specifically the ones you told me never to touch."

I smiled. She seemed like a little kid, standing there all defiant. Kind of like that picture that somehow migrated to the front of our fridge a million years ago.

"You don't care, do you, Spence?" Carly asked me.

I shrugged. "Not really."

"Yay! Get the fancy ones, Freddie."

"I don't see what the big deal is about freakin' plates is," Freddie grumbled.

"Hey man," Sam said, stabbing him in the rib with her finger, "I will have no negative attitude during my dinner, savvy?"

Freddie nodded, and I could see a laugh bubbling up in his throat. I didn't think anyone said "savvy" except those pirates in those movies either.

---

"Holy rat tail stew, Batman," I said during dinner. "This stuff is great."

"Idn't it?" Sam replied in her funny way of talking.

"Totally," Freddie answered, taking another forkful of Sam's stir fry. "What'd you put in it?"

"Arsenic, syanide, air freshener, dog food, moth bolls, and a dash of cayenne pepper." She didn't bat an eye. I clapped inwardly. Impressive. I guess she didn't change as much as I thought she had.

Carly shook her head. "You're full of it."

Sam smiled. "So, Shay," she said, changing the subject, "got a man in your life?"

Freddie's head shot forward suddenly, a quick snicker coming from his throat.

"What the -- what's with you?" Carly asked. "Is it so hilariously unbelievable for me to have a boyfriend?"

"I -- no, it's just -- this joke I've got with some of my roommates. Never mind. Go on," Freddie replied sheepishly.

"I will. Anyway -- I do. What about you Sam?"

Sam shrugged. I was hoping she would say no. I really wanted her to say she spent her nights in her dorm reading a cookbook. The fact that I wantedher to deny it gave me the skeeves.

"Nah," she said. I just then realized I was holding my breath. "No guy worth my time yet. I'm still waiting for him, I guess. You got a man, Freddie?"

"No, Sam, I don't."

"You want one? I hear Spencer here is single and ready to mingle."

I turned beet red. Holy freaking crap. Does she not notice that I'm sitting right here?

Carly, on the other hand, is laughing hysterically and has to run out of the room. Thanks, Carly. You get an extra present this Christmas for that one.

Freddie scoffs. "I'm into girls, Puckett."

"Oh really? Since when?"

"Since forever."

"Okay, good enough. Spence? You like any girls right now?" It amuses me how she can insult Freddie and then just switch like that. I suppose he's used to it.

"Uh," I said. Back, meet corner. "There's this one girl, I guess."

Sam raised her eyebrows. Her bright eyes told me to explain more. They also told my mouth to stop moving. "Heh," was all I said before Carly came back into the room.

I made a note to self to not be intimidated by nineteen year old girls anymore in the future.