*Hey so I'm updating this story and the other story super fast this time to make up for not updating last weekend. I had to rewrite both of them because Microsoft messed up. That's why I didn't update last week. I also just made up a random High School name, so if that really bothers you and you wondered if this was an actual High School, it probably isn't, but who knows. So it's somewhere around 4 AM and I'm exhausted, but I need this time to work on this story; that's how much I care about you all. (: Haha I hope you all enjoy! Make a great day – Ariel*

Freddie POV

Let's just say that I am NOT looking forward to school today. It's Monday; the end of the weekend and possibly, my sanity. Sam and I haven't talked yet, not since what happened at her house the other day.

After avoiding her yesterday and deciding that, even if she didn't want me to, I am going to help her, before I went to sleep last night I lay in bed and think of ways to help her. I even searched Anorexia and Bulimia on Google, but I still couldn't think of anything.

All of the sites say the same thing comes first: Telling an adult. But I can't do that; before the words even leave my mouth she'll have me halfway in my casket. I can do this though. By myself. I just need her to play along and stop being so damn stubborn.

But long story short, I was anything but relaxed when I walked into John Kennings High School on Monday morning. I didn't want to be here. I had made up excuses and faked sick and everything.

"But Mom, I really AM sick!" I whined that morning at the breakfast table. "My temperature is 103 degrees!" She looked at me across the table and lifted her left eyebrow,

"Really? Well does that have anything to do with the heating pad you took from my room at 5:13 this morning?" She asked, eyebrow still raised and hands folded on top of each other. I gaped, shook my head, and picked at my - fat free, sugar free, flavor free - oatmeal.

I still don't know how she knew that I woke up extra early to sneak in her room and take the heating pad. I figured she would have freaked out the second "sick" left my mouth. She was oddly cool about it, and didn't even raise her voice once. She's been acting really weird lately, especially when she quit her job last week…

I walked up the stairs and made my way to my locker. Luckily, Carly, Sam, and Gibby and I all had lockers in the same row. I took my time as I walked up the short staircase wondering what Sam was going to do, or worse, what she would look like. Ever since I caught her she had been losing weight more rapidly; As if her body wanted to wait for someone else to know her secret before it really changed. Gee. Thanks for picking me.

I took her in as I got closer and had a good look of my three friends; she was wearing her usual: plaid black and white shorts and a dark gray shirt I'd once seen Carly wear. Her hair, blonde, thick, and long, was as curly as ever and hung over her shoulders; As if trying to swallow her up.

It wasn't easily seeable, but I knew what I was looking for so I saw it easily, she was slightly smaller than the last time I'd seen her. Her clothes hung on her body like they were two sizes too big, even though they'd fit fine a few months ago.

Like about four months ago.

"What are you staring at, Freddwedgie?" Sam said, announcing my arrival. She was looking at me, but avoiding my eyes. She turned toward her locker before I could reply, so I didn't. Carly and Gibby didn't seem to notice, still continuing on with their current conversation.

"Puh-lease! Mr. Crowe would kick Mr. Amenger's butt!" Carly said in argument to whatever Gibby had said before I got there.

"Mr. Crowe would pass out from Mr. Amenger's super awesome ninja powers!" Gibby said.

"For the last time: Mr. Amenger is NOT a ninja!" Carly replied, throwing her arms up and rolling her eyes.

"Yes he is" Gibby said turning to face her.

"No he is not" Carly put her hand on her hip.

"You know what Shay? You wanna go?" Gibby asked, pulling his shirt off expertly and holding his hands out as if she were about to attack him.

I watched their scene while gathering my books, trying to busy myself from talking to Sam. She was silent in her locker, probably texting or just bored from hearing this argument go on for so long. Her face was buried deep in her locker, like she was hiding from someone. Or avoiding someone.

Gibby and Carly didn't get to "go" because the warning bell rang then, sending all of us off our separate ways. This period I had AP Biology with Mrs. Derma. I didn't have to do much in this class because the teacher barely knew I was alive. She always managed to look right past me. She was older, probably around her mid forties or early fifties; she wore small glasses that rested on her nose and didn't really help her vision, and they just made her look older.

About halfway through the period, I raised my hand to answer a question, and she actually saw me.

"Freddie? Benson?" She asked, pushing her glasses up and squinting at me, like I'd just appeared out of thin air. "I didn't know you were here today! I marked you absent on the attendance list again." Her hand fluttered over her heart; just like it did every other day when she forgot I was here. "Oh here, can you go to the office and tell them… Better yet, I'll write a note. Come. Come here. Take this note to them so they'll know that you really are here." She said grabbing a pen and writing on the paper in front of her. I let her finish as I grabbed a hall pass and rolled my eyes at a few students who had snickered.

I walked the paper to the office, and as soon as I walked in Mrs. Embry, one of the office ladies, said,

"She do it again, huh?" to which I nodded and made my way back out to the hall. I lingered in the hall, already bored with the lesson in science because I had read ahead again.

I took the long way back to class, down the long, north hallway. I was walking down the hall, when I heard something coming from the janitor's closet.

At first, I thought it was a couple kids fooling around; but then I heard a long, miserable sob. Someone was crying; the sound was miserable and heart-breaking. Who could be in such pain?

Sam's POV

I hate my first period class. Not only is the teacher a total dickwad, but he teaches the algebra class, ugh. Mr. Kiks is a dinosaur, probably been teacher here since it opened back in the 1800s. He spits when he walks and is constantly adjusting his tie.

I never really go to his class, and the school gave up trying to force me to go. So I usually spend first period wandering around the halls, sneaking into the school weight room, - which mostly football players used- and using this time to think, alone.

I didn't sleep well last night, getting about 10 hours of sleep' which, for me, wasn't very long. I kept waking up from nightmares; some with my Dad, and some with Freddie. I was slipping in and out of sleep from when I got home at seven, until I woke up at nine.

The nightmares were frightening, even to me. They were all eerily quiet and I'd be alone until someone (My father or Freddie) would come up and get in my face and say some hurtful things. I had been trying to block them out, forget, like I used to, but I just couldn't. My Father's face was imprinted in my brain, his eyes. His deep blue eyes that had seemed like an ocean; the type of eyes that you just couldn't look away from. The eyes that he had given me. But in my dream, they had stared at me with a… a hurt expression; an expression that made my heart swell up and explode right in my stomach. Why was he looking at me like that?

And then it hit me. The wave of grief that washes over me Everytime I admit to myself that he's gone; that I can never ask him the questions I desperately need to know; never go to another ball game, or hang out with him. The wave that makes me remembers that I have to grow up without a dad. No crazy father to make lame jokes, and pull out the baby pictures, and threaten every guy I brought home. No. None of that.

I didn't have much time. The closest bathroom was too far; I could feel my eyes watering and my chest starting to ache. I have to hide. No one can see me like this. Samantha Puckett does not show weakness. I desperately scanned the hall, some thing… Some place.

A janitor's closet. This school has, what, five janitors? And they should be drinking coffee in the teacher's lounge, waiting for lunch. I ran across the hall to the closet and cautiously opened the door, peering inside to make sure no one was there; my eyes were starting to blur and I finally confirmed that no one was there.

I disappeared inside and hoped that no one had seen me. I threw my stuff onto a small table and fell to the ground.

The wave of grief washed over me. I was drowning in it. Who knew how long I would be like this; I'm lost in it.

When I get like this, I'm as weak as I can be. I'm vulnerable and stupid, and I can't control myself. My shoulders shake and I soak myself in my tears. I hiccup and cough and sometimes, I scream. I stop for about a minute and do this 'hic, hic, hic" thing that caves my stomach in and bobs my head upside down. It's humiliating.

I was so deep under that at first; I didn't notice that I was no longer alone in the Pine-sol smelling room.

Freddie.

"Go… Away… Freddeek." I ordered, trying to recover as much of my dignity as I could.

He ignored me, and walked over to the wall I was leaning against as the tears streamed down my cheeks.

I didn't complain as he slipped his arms around me and wiped his sleeve across my face, clearly some of the damage and soaking his sleeve.

So we sat there; Silent, other than my very loud breakdown. It was weird and I knew that I should've denied. Denied, and Ran. I am Samantha Puckett. I don't show weakness; don't show feeling. I don't let anyone in close enough to hurt me. Even Carly doesn't know much about me and my feelings. As far as anyone's concerned, I'm a rock. A strong, heartless rock.

Somewhere, somehow, I had let Fredward Benson in. Maybe it was when he found me puking my guts out; or maybe it was when he came to my house that night. Or maybe, it was the fact that he hadn't run away. He had seen me in one of my darkest moments, and he stayed, He tried to help. And even now, as he tried to help me through yet another dark moment.

I was secretly okay with letting him comfort me. He didn't say anything. Didn't say shiz like 'its okay', or 'things will get better', no; He just held me while I cried.