Chapter 4: Feeling the Music Wash Over Me

Disclaimer: Me no own-o.

Day 2

1

Sam paid attention in English class. This irritated her. And, as with most things these days, she blamed Freddie for it. She had no intention of paying attention, but the teacher was talking about the Cummings poems, and they interested her. Not that she would admit that to anybody, especially Freddie. She had become an expert at not admitting things, especially to Freddie.

She read the rest of the poems, as Freddie had instructed. If he asked her, she was going to tell him she didn't crack the book open, though. She thought it was cute when he rolled his eyes.

Plus, she had liked it that he seemed so concerned about her grades. Cut it out, Puckett. Maybe he's not into Carly anymore, but he's definitely not into you. Give him a wedgie or something, so he doesn't think you're turning soft.

Her next class was Algebra II, and she didn't pay attention. In truth, the reason she was flunking was because she didn't do the homework. And she blazed through tests without paying attention to the problems. She understood it all; she just didn't care to apply.

What she did care about were pranks. And the poem. The pranks were worrisome because Dave Wilson had pulled off one the day before. It was a variation of a Puckett classic; he had put dead fish in the teacher's water cooler. Not very inventive, but it did get him points, which Sam had none of right now. Plus, she knew the teachers were watching her even more than usual. Some of them really did seem to relish the thought of her being expelled.

The poem...well, that maybe took up more space in her mind than it should. She walked down the hall earlier that morning, looking at every girl she passed-which was somewhat difficult, since many of them wilted under the gaze of Sam Puckett. Her reputation was working against her in many ways these days. There are a lot of girls here with blue eyes. Including me.

She thought that looking for the object of the poem might not be the way to go. She had to look at it through whoever wrote it. Somebody who was in love. Wouldn't a person in love have some type of sign? A glow? Carly often had that. She was never in love, not love love, but Carly's infatuations were still pretty glowy.

As she walked down the hallways after second period she tried to stare in the eyes of all the boys she passed, trying to see if they had that glow. That didn't work, either. The boys wilted even more than the girls had. Several of them had felt a Puckett fist of fury in their lives, and many of the others were afraid to experience it. I haven't beat anybody up in a long time. At least a week. And he deserved it!

Violence wasn't her go-to option anymore; she had grown up. Now she used all her maturity to perform verbal annihilations. Yep, she was growing up.

She contemplated her increasing maturity outside one of the girls' restrooms, when she remembered something Spencer had done to Gibby when Spencer was all hopped up on his prank addiction. She grinned. She did not notice when a girl and three boys ran away from the sight of that grin.

2

"Where's Sam?" Freddie asked. Carly looked up from her lunch plate.

"I don't know. I thought she might be with you."

"With me? Why?"

"Because you're 'study buddies,'" Carly said, laughing. "And you're friends. You guys spend more time together than I spend with either of you alone."

"That's just because you're always with your boyfriend of the week," Freddie said. Carly noted the sarcasm did not appear to contain any jealousy.

She didn't feel good about it, but she had tested her theory that Freddie was no longer in love with her, if love was what it really was. She never pushed it too hard, because she didn't want to make him think that her feelings had changed. Not that she needed to worry. Freddie didn't seem to notice the casual touches or the way she leaned over him to look at something on the computer. She only did this a few times, and always when they were alone.

If she had done these things to Freddie a few years ago, he would have probably have given her an engagement ring, even though the two of them were only fifteen at the time. Yes, he no longer thought of her that way.

Which was a relief. And a little sad. Although she knew she could never love Freddie the way he had loved her, it was nice to know there was somebody who loved her.

Freddie sat down. He looked at his plate.

"It's Tuesday."

"Yeah?" Carly said, looking at him strangely. He pointed at his plate.

"Spaghetti. And meatballs. No way Sam would miss meatballs. Something is wrong."

"What could be wrong, Freddie?"

"She's gonna get herself in trouble. I can feel it."

"Spidey senses tingling, Peter Parker?" Carly asked. Sam really is rubbing off on me. Freddie barely acknowledged the comment, whereas if Sam had said it, the two of them would have tore into a debate that would last until Carly screamed. Or sprayed them with a water bottle.

Freddie opened his back pack. As he rummaged through it, Carly saw the first aid kit his mother made him take with him. There was also a first aid kit in each room of his apartment, as well as one Mrs. Benson had insisted be put in the studio. They had actually used that one, thanks to a Sam stunt gone wrong, so Carly supposed Mrs. Benson wasn't completely crazy.

Freddie pulled a sandwich bag out of his back pack.

Carly stared, but made no comment, as Freddie forked his meatballs into the bag. They really are good friends, she thought. She remembered a few months before when she had noticed Sam placing a piece of paper between some of Freddie's school books as they were eating at Carly's place. Freddie had gone up to the studio to fix something, maybe to make the screen move twenty-one percent faster, and Carly had been arguing with Spencer about jack-o-lanterns. Why, she couldn't remember. She had rolled her eyes at Spencer and noticed Sam in her peripheral vision. Carly almost said something. They had been getting along so well, and Carly was concerned that Sam would ruin it. But she held her tongue.

After Freddie came down and got his books to leave, he noticed the paper. He showed it to the others: it was an advertisement for a Galaxy Wars movie marathon at the Rialto theater.

"Sounds nerdy," Sam said, and went to the refrigerator. She didn't notice Freddie smile at her. He didn't notice her smiling when he had turned back to the paper and she had walked back with a drumstick in her hand. They're weird, Carly thought.

3

They knew something was wrong as soon as they entered the hallway. It didn't take a genius. There were too many people. And several of them were wet. Teachers were asking questions to the wet students, all of whom were girls.

"What do you mean it was in rhythm?" Mr. Howard asked one of the girls.

"I think it was the Galaxy Wars theme song," she said. She looked shock.

"How can anybody make toilets shoot out water to a theme song?" Howard asked.

"What's going on, guys?"

Carly and Freddie turned around to see Sam. Freddie opened his mouth to say something when another voice broke through.

"Sam." The three of them turned around to see Principal Franklin.

"Oh, hey, Ted. What's up?"

"Principal Franklin. Is this by any chance your handiwork?"

"Is what my handiwork?" Sam asked.

"Don't, Sam. I know about the competition. I did figure you might take our conversation seriously."

"I did, Ted," Sam said. And she sounded sincere. She was. She did take their conversation seriously. Sometimes she just couldn't resist temptation, though.

"She was in the library," Freddie said.

"Freddie!" Sam turned to him.

"Sorry, Sam. Now your reputation is ruined. Sam Puckett in the library. Oh, no!" Freddie threw up his hands in mock horror.

"What would Sam be doing in the library, Mr. Benson?" Principal Franklin asked.

"Studying," Freddie said, without hesitation. Principal Franklin blinked. He thought that under direct questioning Freddie Benson would crack. As much as Sam Puckett felt every rule was made to be broken, Freddie Benson seemed to believe in following each one without question. Principal Franklin had seen Sam's friendship with Carly and Freddie as a calming influence on her. He hadn't realized how being friends with Sam might change Freddie. Not that he was a proponent of the Sam Puckett philosophy of rules, but if anybody needed a counterbalance to somebody like Mrs. Benson, it was Freddie.

"Sam? Studying?" Sam frowned at him. Well, that wasn't a very principal-like response, he thought.

"You're the one making me see a tutor, Ted."

"Yes, well...what were you studying, Sam?" Sam looked at him, and Freddie broke in.

"The poetry of E. E. Cummings. Tell him, Sam." Sam glared at Freddie. She turned to Principal Franklin, who looked at her expectingly. She sighed.

"Okay, I was studying. Don't spread it around."

"Can you tell me something about one of the poems, Sam?" Principal Franklin asked. Sam didn't glare at Freddie this time; she shot a death ray at him. Freddie stood his ground.

"Yeah, Ted. Um, there's one called 'i sing of olaf glad and big.' It's like this anti-war poem. It has bad words in it. Do you know you're teaching us bad words, Ted?"

"I'm sure you already knew them all, Sam. Very well. I do hope that whoever did this doesn't push her-or his-luck and try something else." He bent down and whispered in Sam's ear: "you are very fortunate in friends." He walked away and began to have a conversation with Mr. Howard.

"What did he say?" Freddie asked.

"He said he couldn't believe what a dweeb I have for a tutor," she spat. Her cheeks were flushed.

"Whatever," Freddie said.

"You missed lunch, Sam," Carly said, trying to break the curious tension.

"Well, I was 'studying', you know. Wait...oh, man, it's Tuesday." Freddie handed her the bag he had filled with meatballs earlier.

"Thanks," Sam said, quietly. "For the meatballs, I mean."

"De nada," Freddie said. "So...you did the reading, huh?"

"Shut up, Benson," Sam said, between bites. "These are good meatballs."

"Are we ready for rehearsal tonight?" Carly asked.

"Yeah, yeah...we just can't take too much time. Me and Freddie got some sleuthing to do."

Freddie sighed. "And studying, Sam."

"Yeah, that, too. At the very least, it provides me with good alibis."

"Well, as long as you're using your education properly, Puckett," Freddie said. He paused. "So how many points was this stunt worth...for whoever did it?"

"Twenty points," Sam said, and grinned.

"Impressive."

"Isn't it, though?"

A/N: There should be one more chapter for day 2. I was going to write the entire day as one chapter, but I kind of like these relatively, for me, shorter chapters.

Thank you for reviews from kiyokoseddie, Geekquality, afanoffanfic, and HotSpatulaOnFire.

Afanoffanfic: I don't know that Sam will be inspired to write her own poetry. Right now I have no plans to explore that. That being said, I don't know exactly every twist and turn of this story yet, so who knows? I'm kind of looking at this story as my own serial story, like Charles Dickens used to do, or Stephen King with The Green Mile, writing and publishing as I go, instead of having everything written in advance. At least I know it will be contained to 14 - 15 days, although it could end up being 45 chapters or so, if I keep writing multiple chapters for each day.