I know that there are other fics out there similar to this one, but I wanted to write out my own spin on Beth, Hannah and Sam's relationship leading up to the events of the game. The other stories here that are like this greatly inspired me, so a big thanks goes out to those authors for putting this idea in my head.
And yes, Nate and Elena from Uncharted are Sam's parents in this. I saw this headcanon on Tumblr and now I can't get it out of my head, so they are mentioned in this I think once or twice.
Thank you for reading, and hopefully you enjoy this weird not-so-little one shot.
Bethany Lynn Washington meets Samantha Heather Giddings in September.
The first day of seventh grade is a milestone for Beth's sister Hannah. "We're no longer at the bottom of the middle school food chain!" Hannah squeals excitedly during the car ride there. "Seventh grade." She sighs wistfully, gazing out of the car window as if she's in a depressing music video. "Who knows what's in store for us this year?"
Beth is more skeptical. Sandwiched between her twin and their older brother, Josh, in the backseat, she barely has the room to breathe. Irritably, she cranes her neck around Hannah's enormous backpack— which is spilling out of one sibling's lap into the other's— and studies her sister's first-day outfit.
Hannah is clad in a preppy schoolgirl skirt and plain tennis shoes. Her bottom half, however, matches with her top half in the same way peanut butter and cheese sauce go together— AKA, Clash City. She has on a t-shirt which depicts two cartoon unicorns with big grins. One is simply labeled "unicorn," while the other has on a cap, and thus is labeled "Capricorn." Beth cringes at the sight of it.
"Hannah, is this seventh grade or first grade?" she asks, dead serious.
"Seventh grade," Hannah replies, just as serious.
Beth sighs.
The day is fairly uneventful, and almost mirrors the first day of sixth grade. The only difference is that Beth's teachers this year are even more boring than the ones she had last year. She also didn't end up having any classes with Hannah, so Beth doesn't see her until the end of the day.
She trudges heavily down the front steps of the school, greeting the warm breeze outside. The wind slithers past her, ruffling her hair and acting as the last whispers of summer.
She finds her sister waiting by the oak tree in the schoolyard, but Beth freezes in her tracks when she sees that Hannah is talking to an unfamiliar girl.
"Who the hell is that?" Beth mutters, baffled. For a twelve-year-old, she's already acquired quite the colorful vocabulary— something that can be attributed partly to her father, and partly to Josh. She squints around the clusters of her peers, trying to see if she can recognize the girl.
This is when Hannah notices her, and with a wide smile, Beth is beckoned over by her sister. She walks over apprehensively, shrugging the other strap of her backpack onto her shoulder.
"Hey!" Hannah says. Glancing back and forth from the girl to her sister, she then continues, "Sam, this is my sister, Beth. Beth, this is my new friend Sam."
Beth hesitates, deciding to take a moment and get a better look at Sam. She is roughly their height, maybe a tad shorter, and has messy blonde hair that has been pulled back into an even messier ponytail. Stringy, limp strands fall in her face, which is a bit pudgy and tan from hours spent in the sun. Hmm. Maybe she could be a good fit for Hannah— in an alternate dimension.
Sam just grins, and Beth wonders if she's mute. Hannah had always been the quietest of the three Washington kids, but next to Sam she's the chattiest Beth has ever seen her. As they walk to the bus, Hannah tells Sam about homeroom, complains to Sam about her weird third period teacher, and informs Sam about the easy homework assignment for social studies. Sam listens to every word, attentive and ever silent. Each time she nods, her ponytail bobs and wags like a dog's tail. Beth can't stop staring at that unruly mess of blonde hair.
When they board the bus, Hannah and Sam take a seat together. Disgruntled, Beth moves to sit behind them, but at last Sam speaks up, and Beth is jarred by how gentle and mild her voice is. "Here, you can squeeze in with us," Sam offers, scooting further down.
Beth stares, then she attempts a smile that doesn't really stick. She wonders how someone with such a wild hairdo can have a voice sweeter than honey. Nevertheless, she plops down next to Sam, leaving Hannah practically smooshed against the window. Yet Hannah doesn't care; she just goes on talking and talking. Beth shifts uncomfortably, her legs glued to the smelly brown vinyl seats with sweat. She spends the entire ride with half of her body hanging in the aisle and the other half pressed against Sam's tanned arm.
Later that day, Beth hears more from Sam, who is quickly invited to the Washington household. She is not mute at all. In fact, she can talk quite a bit when she's in the right mood. Beth leans into the fridge, letting it breathe its cool air onto her cheeks, and listens to Sam and Hannah talk at the kitchen counter. Glasses clink against the marble countertop, and soda fizzes and pops as it's poured.
"Mmm. I love Dr. Pepper," Sam says.
Beth drowns in Sam's voice. Her gentle, kind voice. It's soft on Beth's ears.
ooo
They go to Hannah's tennis tournament the following May.
She's been playing since she and Beth were six years old. Seven years of practice certainly paid off, and now her team is in the running for the championships.
Josh can't go. "Sorry, lil sis, but I promised Chris a video game marathon," he tells her.
Beth begs him. She pleads. She's on her knees, hands clasped together. "I'm not sitting in the stands alone with that Sam."
"That Sam?" Josh laughs. "What have you got against Hannah's friend?"
Beth scoffs. Her chewing gum is a sharp spearmint flavor that bites at the insides of her cheeks. She tries to blow a bubble, but it isn't a big enough piece. "What isn't there to be against? She talks too much, she runs too much, and Hannah is obsessed with her. It's like that time when we were eight, when Han was fixated on getting the entire Barbie Dream house set. Sam is like her Barbie Dream house."
"Sounds to me like somebody is jealous," Josh says. One of his fuzzy caterpillar eyebrows forms an annoyingly high arch. "Hannah finally found a better sister to hang out with."
"Shut up," Beth says, feeling the tips of her ears turn red.
Her brother gives her a light shove. "Oh, come on, I'm just messing with you. Even if dear baby Hannah finds a better sister, you'll still always be her twin sister. Womb-mates for life, right?"
And so the trio of girls go to the tennis tournament, Hannah and Sam in the lead with a highly reluctant Beth in tow. There are many times, as they walk through the parking lot where Sam's mother had dropped them off, where Beth watches the two playfully nudge each other and giggle hysterically. At one point, Sam steals Hannah's tennis racket and takes off sprinting across the lot, dodging cars while dust flies up around her dirty sneakers. Beth stares at her sister as she takes chase, and seriously ponders walking the twenty blocks to Chris's house to be the third-wheel to his and Josh's bromance. Surely even that would be better than third-wheeling Sam and Hannah.
Soon Hannah heads out onto the court to join her team, and Beth takes a moment to admire her sister. Over the school year, Hannah had really grown a lot, and is now even a few centimeters taller than Beth. She always looks noble in her tennis uniform, with matching neon yellow shorts and socks, white tennis shoes (duh), short-sleeved polo shirt, and her long hair tamed back into a ponytail not nearly as messy as Sam's.
Beth and Sam purchase a few snacks and assume their place in the stands, the hot sun beating down on the back of their necks. Beads of perspiration form around Beth's hairline, and she blows her damp, uneven bangs out of her face irritably.
Few words are exchanged between her and Sam, and it's terribly awkward. Sweat accumulates in places Beth hadn't known possible, and she spends most of her time staring firmly out at the court, while continuously plunging her hand in and out of her box of salty, buttery popcorn.
About halfway through the match, Beth finally notices that Sam's face is turned toward her, watching the brunette with a cool and calculated expression.
Beth swallows a bite of popcorn, straightens, and twists her neck to return Sam's stare. "What is it?"
"Oh!" Sam jumps about a foot off the bench like a startled animal. "Sorry, nothing."
These are the only words shared between them. Beth spends the rest of the game wondering whether she has a booger in her nose or a noticeable red line of cherry popsicle residue along her upper lip.
Hannah's team barely wins, scoring the winning hit in the last ten seconds. Throughout the entire match, Hannah had swung her racket maybe three times— and hit the ball maybe once— but her sister is overjoyed, and so Beth is overjoyed, too. If only Hannah would have eyes for anyone else besides her new best friend.
ooo
Sam turns into a cowgirl in October. It's a week before the best holiday of the year, and Halloween buzz follows Sam everywhere she goes. The fever spreads to Hannah, then to Josh, and then to Beth. Halloween had always been one of Beth's favorites, but all of a sudden her entire life revolves around dressing up and scaring the shit out of the little kids. They're eighth-graders now, Hannah says, and that means they need to have the best costumes for their "last hurrah."
"Let's do matching costumes," Beth suggests. She was never really into twinning with her twin, but this year she decides she'll throw Hannah a bone.
"Oh, uh." Hannah scratches the back of her head. "I'm actually… um, doing something with Sam this time. But next year, maybe, right?"
Beth's big balloon of excitement is punctured, and she immediately deflates. "Okay," she mumbles, watching Hannah shoulder on her backpack and jog up the sidewalk to catch the school bus. "Next year."
Beth ends up constructing a very last-minute, very haphazard costume two hours before trick-or-treating is set to begin. She scavenges around the large Washington household like a vulture searching for its next meal of carrion.
An old frilly dress from the back of Hannah's closet + striped red and white stockings + one of their mother's eyeliner pencils equals a half-decent creepy doll costume, as Beth soon finds out. She kills the next hour working on her outfit. Since her hair isn't quite long enough to form into pigtails, she settles for flat-ironing it to impeccable straightness.
Then she grabs the eyeliner pencil and begins to draw jagged cracks on her forehead and cheeks. She finishes it by marking thick stitches over her mouth, and then uses the eyeliner for its actual purpose to give her eyes a sunken appearance.
Josh is spending the night in with Chris and another guy named Mike, so Beth is all alone when she begins the short trek over to Sam's house.
She's never been at the Giddings residence before, but it seems like a nice enough place. The small foyer she enters gives an initial impression of simple cleanliness. There are a few small clues of the presence of Sam's younger brother: a black and green backpack slumped in the corner, a stained blue windbreaker thrown over one of the kitchen chairs. These things don't take away from the ambiance of pretty pale yellow walls and grinning family portraits.
Beth jogs upstairs and finds Hannah and Sam in the robin's egg blue bathroom. Both are leaning precariously over the sink, adding the finishing touches to their costumes. Hannah briefly glances away from the mirror, then resumes fixing her hair. "Hey, Beth. What are you supposed to be?"
Beth looks down at her costume, and smooths out the striped dress, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Um, a creepy doll," she answers. Another set of words is pushing against her gritted teeth— it sure would've been more fun to get ready with you two— but the sentence never sees the light of day.
Sam moves back from the mirror, finished, and beams at Beth. "I like your costume!" she exclaims. "Simple, yet effective. You should scare Scott with—"
Just then, Sam's brother comes trooping down the hallway with two of his own friends. He has sandy blonde hair just like his sister, but it's currently concealed under a bloody hockey mask. His muffled voice leaks through the tiny air holes of the mask. "Doll? Lame."
"Hockey mask? Lame. Not original at all," Sam shoots back, resting one hand on her hip. Scott just grunts, sweeping up his black cloak before descending the stairs with his buddies in tow.
Beth quietly tells her thanks, and chooses to not mention how very last minute the outfit was. She takes her own turn to look over Sam and Hannah's "matching" costumes, which are admittedly impressive and deserving of compliments.
Hannah is dressed as a zombie horse, with a pair of discolored horse ears and a knotted fake tail. Part of her hair is gelled back to resemble a bloody mane, and her eyelids are painted as black, soulless eyes. Various parts of her face, arms, and legs are covered either by makeup resembling rotting flesh, or by a torn-up brown fur vest. Her entire face is painted green.
Sam is a zombie cowgirl, complete with a shredded-up ten-gallon hat that is tilted to an acute angle on her head. Her face is green as well, and her cheeks, forehead, and arms are littered with temporary tattoos of nasty skin abrasions dripping pus or blood. Her hair is, as always, tied back in a ponytail, except now it is matted with specks of fake blood.
Beth has never seen anything quite like a zombie horse and a zombie cowgirl. It's quite the unusual crossover, but deep down she is obsessed with how creative the idea is. Obsessed, and also insanely jealous.
The girls make their way to their door, and are momentarily stopped by Sam's parents for a photoshoot. Elena Giddings smiles and gushes, raising the digital camera up high and snapping dozens of pictures. Beth is still stunned by how much she looks like her daughter.
"Alright, girls, stay safe out there," Sam's father Nate rumbles, tousling his kid's hair before she exits the warm house. "And don't leave the neighborhood!" His final warning is cut off by the shriek of a terrified kid a few blocks over. Hannah, Sam, and Beth exchange thrilled glances.
"Now, the fun really begins!" Sam announces.
They march their way down street after seat, shoes scraping eagerly along the sidewalk. It doesn't take long for Beth's pillowcase to become heavy with multiple fun-size candy bars. She pulls out a pack of Skittles as the trio rounds another corner, only to run head-on into another small pack of girls.
"Jeez! Watch where you're going," the raven-haired girl at the front snaps. Her eyes are narrow and wickedly dark, and Beth cringes away from making eye contact.
"Sorry," Sam apologizes. She pauses, then adds, "Hey, you look kinda familiar. Isn't your name—"
"Emily Davis," the pack leader hums impatiently. The realistic vampire fangs she wears click against her real teeth, and an ooze of fake blood drips from the corner of her frown. "Not that it would matter to you, anyways."
A pretty beige-blonde girl dressed as a she-devil stands to Emily's right, and she grins curiously. "You're Samantha, right? From algebra class?"
"Yup, that's me," Sam says with a nod. "You can call me Sam, though. Less of a mouthful. And you're… Jessica?"
The she-devil smiles in approval. The final girl in Emily's group— a ghost— introduces herself as Ashley Brown. Ashley's face is painted entirely white with the exception of round green eyes peering out from behind a pair of glasses. Beth soon gets the feeling that Ashley isn't exactly the third pea in Emily and Jessica's pod.
The conversation between the two groups doesn't last much longer, as Emily clearly expresses her disinterest in interacting with the others. They depart on friendly terms, with Beth whispering in Ashley's ear the address of the house handing out king-size Hershey bars.
ooo
Sam's first time at the lodge is in January. They arrive a few days before New Year's and spend the long weekend there.
Beth finds no other place more peaceful and comforting than her family's lodge in Alberta, Canada. Blackwood Mountain is the definition of tranquility and purity— everything Sam isn't.
Now, don't get Beth wrong— she loves a good snowball fight just as much as the next person— but there's something about the way Sam plays that is just a bit too rambunctious for Beth's taste.
On their second morning there, Beth wakes and looks out the window to see Sam and Hannah already engaged in a heated battle. The formerly smooth frosty white blanket outside is now bumpier than the moon's surface. Craters, holes, and dents cover the vast expanse of the lodge's side yard. Beth's fingertips fizz as she grips the wooden windowsill. How dare they start without her?
So she skips down the stairs two at a time, sliding on a warm pair of jeans on her way down. Seconds later, she's covered entirely in thirty-degree weather gear. The puffy white jacket and wool hat make her feel like a marshmallow woman, but she'd rather be a big puffy marshmallow than be a frostbite victim.
She barely has the time to inhale a lungful of crisp mountain air, however, before an icy mass slams into the side of her face with the force of a dodgeball in gym class. The severity of the hit is enough to send Beth reeling backwards into a snowdrift.
First she hears the crunch of boots in deep snow, then the next moment a pair of concerned green eyes looms in her vision. "Crap, Beth, I'm sorry! I didn't mean for it to hit you that hard," Sam babbles.
Beth roughly scrapes the wet remnants of the snowball off her cheek, then forms another one underneath Sam's kneeling form. Beth's arm flails, and the snowball smacks into the other girl's forehead with a sloppy plop.
Sam gasps, then a devilish smirk appears on her face. "Ooh, you are gonna get it!" She helps Beth up, then crunches back over to nail Hannah with a hastily-formed snowball of her own.
The day ends with steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Beth's fingers are raw and numb from the snow, and she silently curses herself for not putting on gloves.
The flat screen in the living room has limited cable this high up the mountain, but it displays a decent quality New Year countdown for the group of five in the cavernous living room. The girls are on the sofa, while Josh and his invitee Chris are sprawled on the cushiony rug below. Beth has been talking with the girls they ran into last Halloween, and although Jess and Ashley are in the grade below, Beth doesn't find them as annoying as typical seventh-graders. Despite her newfound closeness with that trio, Beth still didn't feel close enough to invite them up to the lodge yet. Maybe next year, she muses.
The final thirty seconds of the year creep up on the kids. Josh pulls himself into a sitting position, and leans back against Beth's legs only to be kicked away. He rubs his head and yells, "I call Sam for my New Year's kiss!"
Sam visibly stiffens under the blanket she's sharing with Hannah. Beth's eyes shift down to the marshmallows in her cocoa, which are bobbing in a circular fashion like lifeboats caught in a whirlpool. Steam swirls upward and leaves a heated moisture on her face.
"Bro, you can't just claim people," Chris says. "That's messed up."
Josh chuckles and steals another loud slurp from his drink. There is a semicircle outline of chocolate above his lip when he pulls the cup back. "Dude, c'mon. Sam is the only girl here who I'm not related to, and I need a New Year's smooch this year." He leans back and fixes a puppy pout on Sam. "Whataya say, Sammy? For me?"
Sam wrinkles her nose. "Sammy?"
"What?" He shrugs. "It's a cute nickname."
Hannah is clearly trying to ignore this entire exchange, as is Beth, and they're both granted their wish for it to end when the final ten seconds arrive. "Guys, guys! Ten, nine…" Hannah begins to recite.
Josh slumps his shoulders, crestfallen by Sam's refusal.
"Six! Five! Four!" Beth cheers.
Everyone chimes in for "three, two, one," and there is whooping and hollering as the ball drops and the new year flashes on the screen.
Josh sighs. "I feel older already."
"Stop moping, bro," Chris urges him, standing up to take his empty mug to the kitchen.
As the boys head over to the other room, Beth notices a guilty glint in Sam's eyes. Hannah sees it, too.
"Wait, Sam… did you actually want to kiss my brother?"
"No way!" Sam says. She keeps her voice low to ensure the guys don't overhear.
But there is a palpable sense of doubt radiating off of her. Beth watches Sam stir her peppermint stick feverishly through the few sips of cocoa left. The red and white stripes melt into the sloshing liquid, and for some reason Beth feels a little melty herself.
ooo
Sam becomes hot during the summer between middle and high school.
It's almost like an overnight change, really. Beth sees Sam June 30th, and she's still the same old Sam: somewhat pudgy, messy hair, no makeup.
And then July rolls around. The girls enter the air-conditioned mall, and for the first time ever, every boy— and several girls— they pass does a double take. Their eyes bug out of their heads, and a visible pleased shudder shakes their pimpled and sunburned bodies.
Sam is different now. She's grown into her body at last, and any trace of baby fat she had is gone. Her hair is longer and golden and no longer clashes with her well-tanned skin. The messy ponytail is laid to rest, as Sam now opts to gather her locks into a loose bun. She lets a few strands stay free, and they fall in her face constantly.
"Oh my god, what if one of them asks you out?" Hannah hisses into Sam's ear. They're emerging from a store and are almost immediately greeted by stares.
"Huh?" Sam replies. It occurs to Beth that she probably has no clue the kinds of looks she's getting.
By chance, the three of them stumble upon Emily, Jess, and Ashley again. An unfamiliar guy is with them, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his sweatpants. His jaw goes slack at the sight of Sam.
"Oh, hi!" Jess beams and drags the boy to the forefront. "This is Matt."
Matt is at a loss for words. "Hell… ooo," he eventually stammers out.
"Y'know, we really should all hang out together sometime," Jess goes on, her posture perky and eyes bright. She has a smile more dazzling than a camera flash, though that could just be from the silvery glint of the braces on her teeth.
"That would be fun," Hannah agrees. Sam nods, and because Sam nods, Beth nods too.
An hour later, they end up in the food court chowing down on shitty Chinese food. While a lo mein noodle slithers its way into Beth's mouth, Hannah begins interrogating Sam.
"Why didn't you get the meat lover's chow mein? That's your favorite," Hannah persists, picking at her soy sauce-soaked rice.
Sam nibbles on the straw of her drink. "I dunno… I guess I'm kinda… um… going vegan."
Hannah's fork slips out of her hand like a wet bar of soap. If it was a piece of silverware, there would've been a loud claaaang, so for the moment Beth is grateful that the utensil is just plastic.
"What? Vegan?" Hannah sputters. "You're quitting meat cold turkey?" She snaps her fingers. "Just like that?"
"Woah, woah, one question at a time," Sam says teasingly. A couple of fair ringlets creep in front of her eyes, and she brushes them back patiently. "Yes, Han, I'm a vegan. I've come to a point where I'm too dedicated to the humane treatment of all creatures to be able to eat any animal products."
Beth hesitates as she brings a heaping forkful of chicken and noodles to her waiting mouth. After realizing that Sam isn't looking in her direction, she shrugs and shovels in the juicy helping.
They're almost finished eating their lunch when Josh wanders up to them. Beth is baffled as to how he got here, and the best she can figure is that he either walked along the highway to the mall or was dropped off by Chris's mom.
He's also dressed quite strangely. A big brown moustache rests under his nose like a fat chipmunk, and a cowboy hat with a brim wider than the Grand Canyon sits atop his head. The final piece to his disguise is a pair of aviator sunglasses. It's a shitty getup, and all three girls see right through it as clearly as they would a freshly-wiped window.
"Jo—" Hannah starts, but he shushes her.
"Miss," Josh says in a gruff voice, addressing Sam. "I'm afraid you're gonna have to come with me."
From an inner pocket of the trench coat he's wearing— something Beth had failed to notice earlier— Josh yanks out a pair of handcuffs. They're more plastic than a supermodel's face, and they clank sadly against the table.
To Beth's shock, Sam plays along. "Why do I need to go with you, sir?"
Josh leans down, his moustache quivering. In a deadly serious tone, he growls, "Miss, you are under arrest for being hot as fu—"
"Hey!" Beth interrupts, hopping to her feet. Hannah blinks up at her, surprised by her sudden movement. Beth is surprised too. "What?" she snaps. "He shouldn't swear, there are little kids nearby."
"Well, you don't look like a real officer to me," Sam tells him in a sickeningly flirtatious tone. Beth has never seen her speak this way before. Josh might've well pulled out a hypnotizing device. She's under his spell, and the blood in Beth's fists boils.
She leans across the table, fastens her index finger and thumb on one end of Josh's moustache, and rips it off with a vicious grunt. It seems like every person in the food court hears the cringe worthy sound of adhesive tearing away from sensitive skin.
A high-pitched noise crawls weakly up Josh's throat. He looks from the moustache now dangling gingerly from Beth's hand to his sister's red face, then presses his fingers against his upper lip with a wince.
"Dammit!" Josh cries. He flips her off, then storms over to where Chris has been stationed the entire time— yet another detail Beth failed to notice.
"Jesus, Bethany. He was just trying to have some fun," Hannah chides her twin. She looks somewhat bothered, though Beth can't tell if it's more because of Josh and Sam's flirting or because of what she just did.
Beth slams the moustache down on the table. "He was being annoying. Pissed me off," she mumbles, flicking the facial prop so that it skids away from her.
ooo
Beth dreams about Sam in November.
She thinks it's an innocent enough dream at first. There's Hannah, and Jess and Em and Ashley and Josh and Chris— hell, even Mike and that kid Matt are there. It's some kind of party in the lodge, and there's definitely alcohol involved. Josh emerges from the pantry with numerous bottles of booze, and is met with uproarious applause and cheering from the group.
Strong liquid ranging in color from amber to clear is poured into glasses. Josh sweeps by Beth's waiting cup, and he tilts a vodka bottle downward. The hard drink splashes everywhere, soaking the carpet and Beth's hand, but soon its flavor is invading her mouth and it's wonderful. It's not like the one time in real life she sneaked a sip from her father's glass. It doesn't taste acrid or bitter. It tastes like rainbows, glitter, cupcakes, and happiness. Beth guzzles it and begs for more.
Within five dream-minutes, the entire group is drunk off its ass. All of the bottles Josh had brought out are drained of any last drop. A drunken Hannah pleads for a game, and somebody suggests "seven minutes in heaven."
Next thing Beth knows, there's a sweaty hand closing on her arm and shoving her into the coat closet. Dust flutters in the still air, and a long-forgotten pair of skis crashes onto Beth's spinning head.
Hand trembling, she reaches up to flick on the light switch. Sitting in front of her is Sam.
"Seven minutes," Sam whispers. She stretches forward, tracing a delicate finger along Beth's jawline. "I don't know if seven minutes will be enough time."
"Enough time?" Beth asks.
"Enough time for me to do everything I wanna do to you," Sam tells her. "Now, turn off the light. Unless you wanna be a cheater."
"I don't wanna be a cheater," Beth says. The next ten seconds are a whirlwind. The light is turned off, and Sam leans in close, biting the other girl's lower lip.
There's a few tense, thudding heartbeats during which Sam hesitates. Then she dives in, joining her lips with Beth's. The kiss is rough, desperate, and all Beth can taste is her lip gloss.
Beth rouses from the dream when her alarm rings— typical. Her skin is slick with sweat, and her heart is beating just as fast as it was in that closet in the lodge.
"Fuck," she croaks, sliding her legs off the bed and sitting on the edge, trying to focus on the wall. There's a Polaroid photo of her, Hannah and Sam from a few months ago sitting on her dresser. Beth stands, her knees shaking like Jell-O, and she practically collapses onto the photo.
Her sexuality has just become a major gray area, and she's too terrified and exhilarated to think about it right now.
That night, Beth is sitting at the kitchen island while her mother prepares dinner. It's some kind of vegetable stew that is completely meat-free and probably something Sam would love.
But Beth doesn't want to think about her sister's best friend. Hannah is over at Sam's house tonight for a sleepover, and Beth has never been more relieved that she and her mom are the only ones in the entire house.
She drums her fingernails on the white countertop, and the incessant clicking forms a rhythm with Melinda Washington's quiet humming. Beth chooses this moment, as her mother takes two bowls out of the cabinet, to speak.
"Mom, what does it mean when…"
The words are lodged in her throat, stuck like a piece of grisly meat. Melinda glances up, eyebrows raised.
"W- when you always have this, like, fizzy feeling around one specific person? Like, whenever you see them, your knees get shaky and your heart goes so fast you're afraid you'll go into cardiac arrest? And it doesn't make any sense, because— because you've never been so nervous around this person before, but all of a sudden you feel like you're meeting a movie star every time you see them. What kind of feeling is that?"
Her mother tilts her head to the side, looking very much like a confused puppy. She is the near spitting image of Hannah when she slides her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Then Melinda answers, and her response is so stupidly simple that Beth is angry she even says it.
"Love," says Mrs. Washington.
Beth slumps in her seat. The marble countertop is cool to the touch, and the coolness wraps around her bare arms and sends trails of goosebumps prickling every inch of skin on her body.
"Why do you ask?" says her mother.
A steaming bowl of soup is placed in front of Beth's face. A tempting plume of steam tickles her nose, but it isn't enough to convince her to try a spoonful. "No reason," she mutters.
ooo
They go rock climbing in April. It's Sam's idea, and because Hannah is less than thrilled about it, Beth is quick to swoop in and accept her offer.
The pair is strapped into the appropriate gear, and suddenly Beth is clueless as to how she should go about scaling the wall.
"It's not that hard," Sam comforts her. She's sporting neon green sneakers, tight shorts, and a loose tank top. The straps of her sports bra peek through, and they're the paper clips to Beth's magnetic eyes.
"Easy for you to say. Your parents are basically the king and queen of climbing shit," Beth complains. Sam shrugs and wipes away a few blonde strands that have escaped her not very messy ponytail.
"Just watch how I do it. You'll get the hang of it, I promise," Sam says.
And Beth believes her. As it turns out, she's right. It's not all that difficult for Beth to keep her gaze on Sam's every movement. The process turns out to be a fairly simple one: find a good spot to grab onto with your hands, then scrabble around until you find a decent foothold. After a minute of watching Sam climb, Beth joins her on the wall.
"Think I can beat you?" Beth puffs.
Sam shoots her a playful glare. "I think not!"
"Let's bet on it," Beth says. "Imaginary handshake?"
"Imaginary handshake," Sam says.
They spend the next ten minutes making their way up the wall. Sweat drips down Beth's neck, and at one point she has to pause and do the dangerous act of tightening her very short ponytail.
By the time Beth finds the top of the wall, Sam has been sitting there for a few minutes already. "Long time, no see," she teases.
"Shut up," Beth grunts. Her muscles feel like stretched-out putty. "Let's just see who can get down first."
Sam rolls her eyes and lets go of the edge. A gasp begins to rise up Beth's throat, but it fades when she realizes that the both of them are connected to safety gear. Sam lands on both feet on the ground, graceful as ever, and makes an idiotic face at Beth.
"Damn you," Beth curses before releasing her hold on the wall as well.
"Now, what was the amount we settled on for the bet? Twenty bucks?" Sam asks as they take off the gear.
"I'm pretty sure the amount was…" Beth digs through her bag and pulls out a tiny copper coin. She drops it into Sam's outstretched palm with a shit-eating grin. "… one penny, correct?"
Beth wonders what Sam would do if they were in a romantic comedy. Would she drop the penny? Leap forward into Beth's arms and cover her face with kisses?
Life is not a rom-com, however, so Sam just groans and shoves the coin into her own bag. "You're the worst," she says.
They head back outside and are greeted by a light drizzle. The rain peppers Beth's skin, washing away the sticky sweat residue. "So, shall we make this a regular affair?"
Sam's eyes are pebbles in a sunlit creek, glittering and beautiful. "Definitely."
ooo
Sam has a birthday party that August, and the entire group is invited. With the help of Beth, Ashley was introduced to Chris (crush at first sight) and Emily was introduced to Mike (fuck at first sight— literally the night they met) and Jess and Matt became coveted members of the now complete clan.
At first there isn't any alcohol, but Josh fixes that within the first hour. Sam's parents and brother are out of the house, and the party ends up as a wild free-for-all that is likely making all the elderly neighbors complain bitterly.
Sam looks gorgeous on this night. Hannah, Jess, and Emily have all worked on her hair and makeup, which is flawlessly applied. It's the first time Beth has ever seen Sam with her hair down, and now she never wants her to put it back up. Her eyelashes are laden with mascara, and her lips are a deep maroon color. Beth can't stop watching those lips as they curl up into a shy smile.
When Jess squeals about playing a game of spin the bottle, no one objects. As they sit down in a badly-formed circle, all of Beth's instincts are screaming. Her nerves are abuzz and electric like a frayed wire.
An empty beer bottle circles lazily on the cream-colored carpet. Chris matches with… Matt. The two boys bitch and moan about it, and Emily ends up shoving Matt forward so that he and Chris smash foreheads.
Hannah spins… Mike. Beth's sister's cheeks flush a color redder than Sam's lipstick, and she timidly pecks Mike's smirk.
It's Ashley's turn next, and she gets Josh, who puts on an extravagant show of planting a sloppy smooch on Ashley's cheek while eyeing Chris meaningfully the entire time. Beth feels sorry for the redhead; she would rather kiss her cat Noodle on the mouth than go anywhere near her brother's slimy, curse-spitting smile.
All too soon, it's Beth's time to spin. The bottle seems to spin for a few years, and she gets dizzy just watching it.
The bottle stops. It's pointing at Sam.
Something builds up in Beth's throat. Love. It was months ago when she had that brief chat with her mother, and she's done all she can to push it out of her mind.
There's no way she can ignore the fizzy feeling that spreads outward from her stomach to every vessel in her body. Her nerves just eat that poison right up, and again the word reverberates up her spine. Love. You love Sam, you fucking idiot.
Sam grins, and everything about that grin is sheepish. Embarrassed. A faint tint of pink spreads over her cheeks, and it's only accentuated by the dusting of blush applied by Jess earlier.
Beth crawls the short distance across the carpet to her, gives a "oh-wow-this-realllly-sucks-doesn't-it" chuckle, and pushes her lips against the birthday girl's.
In her mind, the scene is far more idyllic. Confetti rains down from the ceiling, the others back away to give the two girls more space. Just like in Beth's dream, Sam kisses her back with this boozy passion. In Beth's mind, the scene is wonderful.
In real life, the kiss lasts way too long, and Sam's mouth remains frozen. Beth retreats and clears her throat, and tries to act like nothing out of the ordinary just happened.
She clears her throat several more times that night, but the buildup of unspoken, suppressed words stubbornly remains. They stay unspoken and suppressed, and Beth just washes it all down with more beer.
ooo
Sam receives a sweater in December. It's an average sweater, red with white outlines of triangles. According to Old Navy, it carries in each stitch a hint of Christmas spirit, so it works as a gift.
The group has a quiet Christmas this year. No Secret Santa like last year, just a gentle, quiet exchange of gifts. Well, quiet, if you disregard the pre-set air horn Josh had packaged for Mike.
When Sam is handed the long, flat box wrapped in blue and white Hanukkah paper, she laughs. Beth can already see little marks starting to form around her eyes from laughing and smiling so much.
"Gee, I wonder what this could be?" Sam asks, shaking it and hearing an intriguing thump from the present inside.
"Oh my god, just open it!" Jess says. She's already busying herself with the pack of colorful hair ties she got from Hannah.
Sam spends one more moment weighing the box, then she tears off the bow and the paper. She lifts the lid off the box, tackles the layers of tissue paper, and pulls out the sweater.
"Ooh. A sweater! You got lucky this year," Emily teases, waving around the candy cane she's been working on for the past half-hour. It's now sharpened into a very threatening-looking spear, and Ashley leans away from it with a grimace.
"Hey, I like sweaters," Sam insists. She picks up the sweater and turns it around, taking in the unusual pattern. "It's cute. I'll definitely wear it." Her eyes flash to Beth. That irresistible smile appears again. "Thanks, Beth. I love it."
That sweater cost fifteen dollars and ninety-nine cents, and it sure as hell was worth every last penny.
But as useful as pennies are, they still can't unclog those words from Beth's throat. Every time she swallows, she feels their push, their presence, and it almost chokes her. Thank god for booze, she thinks.
ooo
Beth tries to set those words free in March. It's their senior year of high school, and time is dwindling. Hannah, Beth, and Sam all applied to colleges, and all three got into different places.
Beth's only class with Sam this year is English. No one else from the group is in this class.
Mr. Fish placed Sam in the middle of the room at the beginning of the year, while Beth was put in the very last seat in the very last row in the corner full of cobweb-encrusted textbooks and two dinosaur PC computers that make Chris cry whenever he sees them— good technology and computer parts just going to waste, he always sobs.
Fuck alphabetical order, Beth complains to herself. Every goddamn class, she and her siblings are always one of kids seated in the very back of the room, save for those rare gems with X, Y, or Z last names. In English, however, Beth has no such luck.
At the end of class, Sam waits at the door for Beth as usual, and together the two of them melt into the bustling hallway.
"Y'know, I still can't believe Fish hasn't changed our seats the entire school year so far," Sam says to Beth as they make a sharp turn around a corner.
"It's super annoying," Beth agrees. She maneuvers around a cluster of dumbasses standing in the middle of the hallway and heaves a sigh. Who the hell thinks it's okay to stand in the hallway? You're basically the equivalent of a clot in a blood vessel. She shakes her head slowly, horrified with herself. Okaaay, way too much studying for anatomy lately.
Beth is reminded of the narrow time slot she has between fifth and sixth period, as she and Sam are fast approaching the latter's next class. "So, uh." She coughs, and nearly slams into an open locker door.
Sam pulls her out of the way just in time. "Yeah?"
"There's something I need to tell you," Beth says. Forty feet to Sam's calculus class. "I've been meaning to tell you for a while now, and it's really dumb that I haven't yet, and—"
To her surprise, Sam lets out a breath of relief. "Oh, wow. I've actually been keeping something from you, too."
"Oh?" Beth lifts her eyebrows, interest piqued. "Okay, well…" Out of the corner of her eye, Ms. Bernstein's classroom door looms. "Let's say both of our things together, since we don't have much time left."
Sam nods. "Alright. Ready? 3… 2…"
"I have a cru—"
"I'm dating your brother."
For a short while, Beth just stares at her. She observes Sam's face, and the genuine sparkle in her eyes. Her lips are frowning, mouth poised to make a follow-up comment. Beth doesn't say a word. Instead, she breezes past Ms. Bernstein's room and all the way to the nearest ladies' room.
"Jesus Christ!" Beth shrieks. "Fuck! Why?" There are tears halfway down her cheeks before she even notices they're falling. Black beads of mascara gather under her eyes. She pulls off her beanie and throws it onto the floor. When the impact doesn't prove satisfactory, she shoulders off her backpack and strikes it repeatedly against the floor. Smash goes her phone in the front pocket. Wooden and mechanical pencils alike splinter into shards. Papers and folders flutter out of an open compartment.
By the time Beth is finished, the late bell for sixth period has rung, and she is entirely alone in the restroom. She'd tear the sinks and paper towel holders out of the wall if she possessed the strength.
Josh? Sam and Josh? What the actual fuck? "Why him…" Beth sobs, leaning over the sink and ignoring the filthy mirror. The foul odor of cheap bathroom cleaner fills her nostrils and stings her nose and eyes like a bee. She ignores it.
More importantly, why didn't he tell her? She talks to her brother on the phone every day. He's in college, working towards a degree in psychology. And now, apparently, he has screwing around with Samantha Giddings as a side job along with being a McDonald's cashier. Josh has never been in a serious relationship his entire life, unless you count his stuffed rabbit when he was four. Beth doesn't want him to hurt Sam. Sam is amazing. Sam deserves better than a guy who was in a three-year relationship with a fake bunny named Fluffball.
Sam hasn't come after Beth. It's been ten minutes now and there is no sign of anyone. No Hannah, no Ashley, no Jess, not one person who gives a fucking shit. What if Beth was the only one who didn't know? Maybe all along the entire group has been making a fool out of her. They have been acting weird lately.
It takes her another very slow ten minutes to clean up the mess she's made and wipe her face free of makeup smears. Her phone screen is effed up when she takes the device out of the front pocket. An intricate series of cracks and scratches extend from one bruised corner like a cobweb. There are three texts from Sam.
Sam: Beth, please tell me you're OK.
Sam: I know this is a lot to take in. Take all the time you need.
Sam: I'm so sorry. Beth, please answer!
Beth doesn't answer. She doesn't want to give her the relief, the satisfaction, of getting a response from her.
A voice crackles over the intercom. "Will Bethany Washington please report to the front office?"
Beth gathers up her papers, slides her backpack over one shoulder, crumples her beanie into one fist, and exits the restroom.
ooo
They graduate high school on June 1st, 2013.
Sam and Josh have been broken up for a month now.
The whole group goes out to celebrate that night, even Jess, Matt, and Ashley, who are only incoming twelfth graders.
Beth knows she shouldn't really be all that shocked when she ends up alone with Sam. Really, there's no reason she shouldn't have been expecting it. There was bound to be a confrontation eventually.
Sam joins Beth when she is outside, drink in hand, under an endless night sky speckled with stars.
"May I join you?" Sam questions. Her voice is shaky, not really sure on its feet yet, like a newborn fawn. Beth merely nods, and Sam settles down next to her in the grass.
Truthfully, Beth is unsure how she even ended up outside. After the group yodeled their hearts out at a karaoke restaurant, they'd returned to the Washington household and were still in there as far as Beth knew. One minute, she was inside handing Emily and Matt Jell-O shots, and the next minute she was lying in the backyard, long strands of grass tickling her calves and feet.
"I'm sorry, Beth," Sam murmurs.
Beth turns her head and studies her. She appears genuine, but if the past five years have taught Beth anything, it's to never trust any expression that Sam plasters on her face.
"Have you ever loved someone who doesn't love you back?" Beth asks suddenly. She's more comfortable posing a question rather than accepting the apology. Somehow, it's easier on her heart.
Her ask is more of a demand, really, and Sam picks up on the strained whisper Beth uses to say it, like she has a sore throat.
Sam stares at Beth until the other girl is staring back. The stars remind Beth of the smattering of freckles on Sam's face.
"I don't know," Sam responds at last, albeit hesitantly. Her blonde tresses dance and twirl in the wind, and Beth wonders how this girl can make a messy ponytail look so fucking attractive.
A full minute or two passes before Sam adds on to her answer. Beth watches her open her mouth, prepared for the worst and the best at the same time.
"I don't think I've ever been in love to begin with."
The snarky words slip off of Beth's tongue before her brain can process them: "What about my brother?"
"Josh?" As if Beth has any other brother. The other girl chuckles, and her laugh combines with the annoying breeze. "He and I… I don't really know what we were doing, to be honest. I guess we were just… messing around, y'know?"
Beth decides not to indulge her with a reply. She knows perfectly well that she's already dug a grave for her heart and buried it deep.
"I don't think I've ever been in love," this girl sitting in front of her says. What Beth really wants to tell her— and still, the words are fighting to slip past her grinding teeth— is how much she loves her. How she's been in love with her since the summer before tenth grade.
Beth sits there inches away from those ruby red lips and glittering green eyes and is quite sure that Samantha Giddings will be the death of her.
ooo
Sam wears the sweater in February.
At this point, she's had it for well over a year, but she remembers to put it on for the group's annual weekend getaway at the lodge.
Beth is wearing a sweater too. It's cuddly and gray and hugs her middle with the same tender embrace of a person.
Chris sighs, grinning as he stands at the base of one of the wide staircases. Moonlight filters in from the set of windows at the top of the third floor. "It's great to be back," he says.
Beth mostly agrees.
Josh whips the dust covers off the sofa and chairs in the main living room. "Definitely great to be back, Cochise. You never know, maybe this will be the year you make your move."
"Make my move?" Chris chuckles.
"Yeah, man. On… Aaaaashley," Josh hums, drawing out the first syllable of the girl's name for way too many seconds. He skips past his best friend like a gleeful schoolgirl, letting one of the white sheets billow in Chris's face.
Chris gags, spitting out dust and scowling. "Josh!" he warns, shaking a fist at him.
The rest of the group arrives in pairs: Ash and Jess, Emily and Mike, Hannah and Sam. Matt is the final person to step into the lodge, kicking clumps of snow off his boots and rubbing the sleeves of his hoodie with a shiver. "Jeez, it's cold out there," he remarks. A murmur of agreement rises from everyone else.
Hours go by, and bottles of beer are passed around. Hannah and Matt, the typical lightweights, are holding up surprisingly well. "You two should drink some more," Emily says, shoving a half-drunk can of frothy liquid in Matt's face. "C'mon, have some fun."
And so they drink. And drink. And drink some more. They all do. After three servings, Beth can't tell which way is up or down.
It's at this moment when Sam grabs her arm and pulls her upstairs. The others are too far gone to notice, and Beth's too far gone to protest. She allows the other girl to lead her up the stairs and down the hall. Soon they're standing in front of a very familiar door.
"It's your room," Sam says pointedly, as Beth blinks at it, dumbfounded.
"Yeah, I- I know, dumbass!"
"Unlock it," Sam orders. "Please."
In her haze, Beth is able to detect the note of uneasiness in Sam's tone. She finds the key in the back pocket of her yoga pants, and clumsily turns it in the lock of the door. Beth vaguely recalls when her family acquired the lodge, and how she'd immediately requested for the only bedroom with a lock. Better to keep out nosy siblings, and later on, nosy friends.
Both of them squeeze into the room at the same time. Sam gives Beth one fleeting look, then she snaps, "Beth, do you have a crush on me?"
"Hmm…?" Beth giggles. The fizzy feeling is back in full force, and something tingles below her stomach as she takes in Sam's accusatory expression. Tonight, the blonde has on a set of gold earrings that dangle freely from her earlobes. They're misshapen hoops, as if the metal had been left in a hot car was left to mold into entirely new, non-circular shapes. Beth's drunken brain is giddy at the thought of these misshapen hoop earrings, and the brunette laughs again, more loudly.
"Bethany," Sam hisses. "Please tell me."
Beth rolls her eyes. "It's not a crush, Sammy," she says, throwing in Josh's pet name for her just to add some extra mocking effect. "It's… looooove."
Sam gazes at her. "Really?"
"Really really," Beth assures her.
And then Sam's face is on hers and Beth no longer has the opportunity to giggle like the buzzed idiot she is. Sam snatches the breath right out of her mouth.
It's just like the dream. No, it's better than the dream. Beth melts into the kiss, gathering handfuls of silky blonde hair. Her hands then travel downward, tracing the outline of Sam's body through her sweater. She hooks her fingers in the waistband of her jeans.
Then Sam jerks backward, cheeks crimson. "What the fuck are we doing?" she whispers.
"I don't know," Beth replies. "You tell me." She fumbles in the darkness, clasping any piece of Sam's sweater she can reach: a sleeve, a hem, a loose stitch near the shoulder.
"Beth, come on. Be serious!" Sam's eyes drill into the taller girl's face. Beth stumbles. Since when is she so… short?
Her brain, handicapped by alcohol, bobs around in her skull, useless as a pile of half-rotted mush. Beth tries to be serious, she really does. She curls her lips back tightly, digging in her teeth and clamping her jaw shut.
Sam just kissed her. For real. No spin the bottle, no dreams. This is real life.
And Beth smiles. It's the kind of smile that is so wide, it threatens to tear into her cheeks. She chuckles.
Sam's eyes glisten. Wordlessly, she turns on her heel and stomps out of the room.
Beth passes out.
When she wakes up, it's very early the next morning. Her phone— dug out from a pocket— reads 1:47 AM.
She swears and stumbles her way down the stairs to the kitchen. Josh and Chris are barely conscious, clinking together two glasses filled to the brim with a dark amber ale. No surprise there. Those two are famous in the group for their witless drinking contests.
Beth quirks her brow at them, yawning as she walks past. "Well, if it isn't Dumb and Dumber," she deadpans, scavenging the fridge for a booze-free morsel of food.
"Hey, Beth!" Josh slurs. "D- did me n' Cochise here ever tell you about the time we mated a bulldog with a Shih-Tzu?"
Beth tilts her head and smirks, already knowing where this is going. "Really? That's weird," she says, taking the bait.
"Yeah," Chris says. "We called it a- a bullshit!" He and Josh begin guffawing, spilling beer all over themselves and the counter.
"Best Dumb and Dumber quote ever," Josh proclaims.
Beth resists rolling her eyes again, and in her mind she presses the mute button on their obnoxious laughs. She settles in front of the window over the kitchen sink, looking out at the winter wonderland beyond. She isn't ready to face Sam yet, not while she's still in this partially-dissolved drunken stupor. She needs time, and she assures herself that she has all the time in the world. I'll just talk to her later, and sort everything out.
Several minutes pass as Josh and Chris's loud antics die down in the background. Beth is brought back to awareness by a vague, yet distinct suspicious movement outside. Beth squints through the window, befuddled. It's too tall to be a deer, she thinks to herself. Right? Something metal glints, and in the next millisecond the figure is gone.
"Hey… did you see that?" Beth speaks up at last, creeped out. Even with the gradually fading filter of drunkenness still obstructing a few of her instincts, she's fairly sure that her vision wasn't just fooling her.
"Dad said it'd just be us this weekend," she goes on, spinning away from the frosty window. "Josh?"
Her brother and Chris are dead to the world, passed out with trails of drool leading from the corners of their mouths to small pools on the counter. Beth shakes her head, examining the bottle of hard stuff they'd been chugging.
Christ. "Jeez, Josh. Once again brother, you've outdone us all."
This is the last moment Beth remembers everything being okay.
The night swiftly shifts into a whirlwind of terror, crunchy mounds of snow, and snowflakes battering her face. Numbing pain stabs at Beth's cheeks like a thousand needles.
"Hannah!" Beth screams into the woods.
Those fuckers are gonna pay for that prank, she tells herself. When I get back there, I'll drop-kick their asses into the next century. And Josh will help me.
"Hello?"
Her sister, her stupid, naive sister, peers up from where she's crouched on the ground, huddled into a sorry heap with her bare arms prey to the vicious winds.
"Hannah! Oh my god, you must be freezing," Beth breathes. Without an ounce of hesitation, she slips her fuchsia coat over Hannah's trembling shoulders.
The next instant, they're running— no, sprinting— through patches of bramble bushes and other prickly undergrowth. Beth's toes are frozen through her useless snow boots.
Then they're hanging off a cliff. She can feel the blisters forming on her fingers as she grips the root. Hannah's slippery fingers cling onto her other wrist. They dangle helplessly, like two ripe apples about to fall off a tree.
Then they're tumbling into an abyss. Falling and falling and fucking falling.
She can still feel the fleecy fabric of that sweater between her fingers. Red, with white triangles. The Old Navy tag at the nape of Sam's neck, tangled with a few wisps of fair hair.
Sam's lips are gentle. She kisses Beth fully, firmly, but her kiss is irresolute. Her kiss is a question passed from one breathing body to a now lifeless one.
What if?