He kicked himself for not figuring it out sooner what was so obvious now.
Many people would say that Fredward Benson was a genius. He's not. Not by a long shot. He would consider his intelligence to be on par with most guys his age. What did set him apart and push him over into the fringe of excellence was his devotion and attention to detail. He assumed it was hereditary. He had a mind that wouldn't stop and an attitude that was resolute. It was what made him as good at fencing as he was building computers and completing crossword puzzles. He was a believer in finishing what he started.
With every obstacle encountered in his life, whether it was academic studies, his relationship with his mother, his quest to woo the girl of his dreams, or his intent to pinpoint the identity of the midnight safecracker, he approached it in a way that could be described as though studying a chessboard. Analyzing the situation from all angles and trying to conquer the best of it using prior strategies had always been proven reliable. Honestly, Freddie's focus could put a Tibetan monk to shame.
He believed that if given enough time, he'd be able to solve all the mysteries in the universe. He was confident in his abilities in a way that only a young boy who had been coddled and admired by his mother his whole life could be. No, it wasn't that Freddie was smart. It was that he was unrelenting. That's what made him the threat he was.
But you didn't have to possess a degree in rocket science to figure out what was going on, Freddie surmised. You only needed to have taken a seventh-grade introductory algebra course. This was the class that began teaching you the basics of Logic Theory. The premise of the entire subject goes like this: If A equals B and B equals C, then A must equal C. That's it. It's so simple, it hurts. Anyone with a pulse should be able to grasp the concept.
Freddie was only just smart enough to understand how to realistically apply it to their current circumstances. Observe. A. Sam was physicially enhanced and she loves money. B Money could often be found in registers and safes like the ones that were being broken into in the middle of the night. C. The thief that law enforcement is looking for was so strong, so fast and so experienced that he or she had managed to elude them through several incidents. A must equal C.
Freddie didn't expect to be awarded a medal for figuring it out. He just wanted resolution. He wanted Sam to confess and turn herself in and leave all of the silliness behind to walk the straight and narrow. Because honestly… yeah, Sam's put him through Hell and back, but something in him still demanded that he care about her. Sam was like this scar on his chest that had disfigured him because of some huge assault or mutilation he had gone through. Weirdly enough, it was kinda cool because he had an amazing story to tell about it. Call him a masochist or something similar but Sam was his friend, the most dysfunctional one he'd ever had in his life.
But there were times when he straddled the line between deciding whether their friendship was worth it or not... whether it was equitable. This was one of those times.
The tension in the air was ripe. Sam's spidey senses were tingling. If the size of a regular glazed crème doughnut could represent the stress felt while you were taking a math exam at Ridgeway High, then the doughnut representing the pressure of the current predicament in the Shay living room was the size of freaking Alaska.
"You're lying!" Freddie cried out accusingly.
"Yeah, okay. I lied! But c'mon, you already know that about me. Nice to meet you, I'm Sam. I'm deceptive. I love meat. I sometimes borrow stuff without telling people. Hide your valuables while I'm in a thirty-five foot radius," the blonde introduced herself.
"There's more to life than material possessions. There's something called integrity and friendship. I don't know how you rope us into it again and again but we both trusted you. Well, no more. I refuse to be manipulated. I'm turning you in." Brown eyes shot daggers at her.
Sam groaned. "You would. Wouldn't you? What gives you the right to be so self righteous? Did you invent the light bulb and I didn't realize it Thomas Fredison?"
"Aggravated robbery, Sam? Aggravated! That means you had a gun. Do you know how dangerous that is? Where did you get a gun from?"
"The clerk overreacted! It was a banana tucked in my pocket. I was saving it for later, a little post-robbery snack." Sam used her graceful fingers to mimic peeling the yellow fruit and biting into it.
"I don't know what makes you think you're allowed to break the law. You're not special Sam! You're supposed to obey all the laws that everyone abides by. They're there for a reason, to protect everyone equally!" Freddie shouted contemptuously.
"To protect you Freddifer! When has it ever protected me? When Colonel Sanders founded America and wrote down all of those Indian-thumping laws, why was I overlooked? You'll never understand because you are LOVED and you are TAKEN CARE OF by someone you can depend on! Stealing has kept me clothed and fed for the last twelve years. Society's laws was never intended to serve someone like me. It's purpose has always been to keep the rich, rich and the poor, poor. I'll do what I have to do to take care of myself while you live your cushy life… I'm tired of playing the game by someone else's rules." A half-snarl reverberated throughout the room.
"Have fun in prison, Sam. I'm sure you'll fit right in." Freddie sniped back.
"Okay. It was wrong, I see that now. But I was using the money to benefit all three of us! I bought us a car and had Griffin fix it up." Sam continued, trying to illustrate her premonition of what their futures held. "I thought we could all go on a road trip together. We could run away to Vegas and start our own act. How hard could it be? Freddie could be the magician, you could be a fortune-teller and I could tightrope walk and like.. wrestle bears and tigers and other ferocious creatures. We could be like this less gay version of Siegfried and Roy!" Sam enthused.
"We have school. We have lives. We have responsibilities." Discipline resonated from his voice as Freddie folded his arms together stubbornly.
"How about you Carly? I can take you to the garage to see it right now. It's just waiting there ready to be revved up!" Sam pleaded gently.
With a thought, Freddie fixed Carly's legs to the floor. She felt as though her feet were dipped in concrete and left to dry. "We're not going anywhere. Especially not with you Sam. We are not getting dragged into your criminal activities."
"Freddie!" Carly protested, "Watch your pronouns! I can decide for myself where I'm going." She shot him a look reserved for people she met who introduced themselves as dogcatchers and telemarketers.
With a jealous tremor, Freddie released her leg, letting her move forward to approach Sam. Carly looked at her with searching eyes, "You lied to me?"
"Yeah," Sam replied solemnly.
"You know that I'm hurt," Carly softly reprimanded.
"I know," Sam quietly deferred.
"You know that you hurt Spencer. He worked really hard on that sculpture."
"I didn't know it was his," she weakly offered, knowing that it was a poor excuse.
"Why are you hurting everyone?" Carly asked in an even tone. Her words were still warm and dipped in empathy.
Sam's eyes cast downwards and she shuffled her feet self-consciously. One hand wrapped around the other, wringing her wrist while looking for some kind of explanation that was acceptable. Her mind raced for all the things she could say, but in the end, there was only one truth. She bit her bottom lip before turning her eyes up to meet Carly's.
"Because I'm good at it." Her eyes shimmered guiltily.
It was nine in the morning and in a cold, shadowy alleyway, an outstretched hand was sticking out of a dumpster as though begging for a ray of light. It was pale and bloody and the pinkie finger bent in an unnatural way as though it was finally freed from its servitude to the palm. If there was any time to avoid such a sight, run away and try to wipe it from memory, this would be it.
A brave figure with shaky knees approached the junk site fearing the worse. It reached down and pulled out a black trash bag, tossing it to the side to reveal the face that possessed those fingers. The man was a ghostly white, splashed liberally with red. He looked dead. "Oh no… oh no. Oh no. Oh no. No." Frantically, quick hands began brushing away scraps of newspaper and garbage from Spencer's face and body.
Trembling fingers checked for a pulse and found a faint but steady beat. There was a thankful sigh as the fingertips stilled for a split second and moved from Spencer's neck to his battered face, where they traced his hairline to check for blood. "Still alive. But gotta hurry." The figure shifted his weight. "God, you're heavy. I don't think – I can – yeah. Okay. Maybe – Yeah, okay." Spencer was settled over a strong shoulder and he let out something between a wheeze and a gasp of pain as his world turned upside down. One eye opened and stared out at the fuzzy world before rolling back. He gratefully sank into the safe haven of oblivion.
"It'll be all right." A rugged hand grasped one of Spencer's dangling ones and squeezed gently. "Whoa!" A misstep nearly had them both tumbling to the ground. Spencer released a groan, though he remained unconscious. "I'm sorry, I'll be-" stepping over a pile of broken bottles, "more careful." Lines formed on Spencer's normally smooth forehead. He began to groan every time he was jostled, which turned out to be nearly every step, and a steady stream of blood dripped out from his face, soaking through the denim jacket beneath his cheek. He was carried off on a run, his savior breathing heavily as he struggled with Spencer's weight. "The hospital's a couple blocks away. We're almost there, it's so close… so close."
"You were right to let her go," Freddie commented over Carly's back as she folded her clothes, making tight corners on all of her shirts while navigating through the pile to match her socks together. The two were in Carly's bedroom with Freddie perched comfortably on top of her desk.
"She said she had an errand to run. We'll see her tomorrow." Carly let her hand linger on a tank top of Sam's that had managed to get mixed into her laundry.
"I don't like to say this, but she's not a good person, Carly. I don't think we should be hanging out with her anymore. She's abusive. She vandalizes. She steals. She lies-"
"She's in love with me." Carly finished for him.
"What? Sorry, my mother hasn't dewaxed my ears in a while, so I thought you said…" Freddie was clearly taken off guard.
"The game from last night was that you tell me your secret and I tell you mine. Sam loves me and my secret is that… I'm not sure, but I think I might feel the same way for her." Carly admitted to herself out loud for the first time.
"Are you two together?" He asked with barely concealed envy.
"Of course not. We just kissed a little last night," she responded, unaware of the stewing emotions behind her. "It's not, "add water, microwave on high for two minutes, instant relationship." Sam and I are taking it slow… If there's anything to take slow in the first place. After she broke up with Griffin, Sam told me that she thought that monogamy was for ugly people." Carly frowned awkwardly at the statement.
"But I love you." Freddie insisted.
"I know, Freddie." Carly brushed it off casually as she always did before.
"No, I don't think you do." Freddie grabbed at her hand, spinning her around to capture her full attention. She turned around to look at him curiously.
"I love you. I'm not sure you know what that means." He cleared his throat nervously. "I am Fredward K. Benson. My ancestors were legged fish that crawled out of the primordial ooze after the Earth cooled down from being formed from stardust swirling about in space. It took four-hundred-thousand years of human evolution to create me. I was created and I exist so that I could dedicate myself to you." He explained, very matter of factly.
"But I'm not… that's sweet, but I'm not that special. I'm just me, Carly. Simple, ordinary, everyday, girl-next-door Carly. There are other girls out there much more unique and interesting that find you cute, charming and completely dateable, Freddie." The humbleness in her voice wrapped around his heartstrings and tugged.
"They're not you. Did you know that it only takes four basic elements to create life on a planet? Hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen and carbon. They're all very simple and common molecules, but without one of them existing, nothing that breathes can live. Light and heat are very ordinary and every day too but if the sun stopped providing it, the world would freeze over and die in a span of seven minutes." Freddie reached out to tuck back a strand of Carly's hair behind her ear. "Truthfully, it's the simple things that we need the most. What others take for granted, we rely on most heavily. Carly, you're… my oxygen molecule."
Carly stood there, dumbstruck.
Tossing the empty candy wrapper in the trash can, Sam tiredly resumed her post in front of the dim sum house several doors down from the Taozhou Bazaar. The sun had nearly set. A bitter wind had settled over the street. The crowd of pedestrians had begun to thin out, ducking into doorways like squirrels burrowing into holes for the winter. Sam shifted on her feet, rubbing the sides of her arms through her sleeves.
Maybe she should duck inside the restaurant to keep warm. But then she might miss Griffin. She turned her head to look at the tank filled with striped sea bass in the window, their opalescent bodies undulating in the water as they pressed their fish lips against the glass. She couldn't help but smile. It almost looked as if they were blowing kisses at her. She puckered her lips and air kissed them back. It was kinda funny. Well, actually it wasn't funny at all. Now that she had officially lost Carly's trust, this was the closest to making out Sam was likely to ever get.
But the window did serve a purpose. By staring into it at a certain angle, she was able to use its reflection to get a good view of the street.
It was another rule of criminal behavior to make use of reflective surfaces. It was best never to look directly at anyone, but to use car doors, windows, whatever makeshift mirrors were available. The city was full of them and this fish tank full of striped bass was as good as any. Wait a second. Sam's eyes narrowed. Reflected there in the glass, she could see a shadowy image cross the nearly deserted street. There was something familiar there. It had something to do with the haircut. Against her better judgment, Sam decided to turn around for a more direct look.
She nearly crashed into a tall figure on the way. "Hey! Watch out Puckett!" Griffin cried aloud before grinning at her in his usual cute boyish way. "You almost trampled me like gazelles did Mufasa, what's the rush?"
"Griffin," she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him in full view of the public. "It's great to see you."
He returned it back to her, surprised at the uncharacteristic display of affection, "Reciprocated!" He trailed a hand through her soft blonde curls. "Are we doin' good? Did it work out last night? I need the deets yo."
"Yeah, it went better than expected but… there's some things I need to fix. Can we go talk about it somewhere?" Sam asked him firmly.
"Yus yus. I have some booze back at my place. Half-drunken conversations can commence! Problems shall be resolved!"
"Boozin' it up is your solution to everything." Sam rolled her eyes.
"F'real." Griffin nodded his head, actively agreeing.
Four hours later and a whole lot of empty clinking bottles rolling around, Sam and Griffin were playing rock, paper, scissors in his cluttered garage.
Griffin went with rock. It always seemed like the safest choice. It was solid and easy for a fist to form. Sam, however, apparently didn't feel the same way. Her two fingers formed the crooked V shape of a pair of scissors.
"You losht! You losht! You've never losht! I've neveeer beaten you at enysthing." Griffin's head swayed back and forth, clearly amazed at his victory.
"Shudd-hicC-up. Yeww smelllllyy boy." Sam growled at him disdainfully. "Likee I sed, we-we need to- we need to- whut we need to dooo ish senddd da restt of the monies back in a shuuuboX to the pahleece departmento. Itz the rite thingg to doo."
"Sammieee, iz thitsh whut Carleee told you to dooo?" Griffin's voice humorously rose an octave on the last word.
Sam shook her head side to side violently. Her body looked as if it was going to flop over with it. "No. nono. I'm raken the yard. I'm goinn be goood now."
"Turnen ovaaah a nuuu leef?" Griffin clarified drunkenly.
"Yesh. Dat." Sam's eyelids closed as she leaned her head against the concrete wall. She was so sleepy.
A moment of silence passed.
"I'm shhorruy. So shorrry Buckkett." A breathy whisper called out.
"Huhh?" Sam's eyes opened.
"Aiie didmt. Deyy offurrrred me moniez. It wuz soo mucsh. So mucsh. I had tooo. Ie always wunted too starth muh ownnn mekkanikz garazge shoppk." Griffin looked at his half formed fist, shaking his head in shame. "So shorrry.."
Sam looked up only in time to see the blurry vision of a rag coming towards her to close around her nose and mouth. She didn't have the time to struggle before her body gave out beneath her and she was being dragged away. Although she couldn't hear it, her compatriot still spoke to her, begging for her forgiveness. "Iem uh schumbagg Sammieee! I wrealle am. Iem a scckumbag!"
"Good job." A deep voice acknowledged as a sack of bills fell into Griffin's lap.
Author's Note: Thank you to Anon1, HizumiD, NeonDistraction, SilverTurtle, BlaireBanner, power2corrupt, ApocalypticDarkAngel and MosquitoMilk for being new reviewers. It means a lot. :) It's silly, but I feel psyched that I broke one hundred reviews. If I could, I'd go all OPRAH on this joint and start giving away free cars.
And after a comment on a forum I read about the disdain for fanfiction resembling Stephanie Meyer's Twilight stories, I feel like gagging myself. I think I've pretty much fallen into that. Innocent wide eyed brunette in a love triangle between a troubled, moody, unpredictable love interest and a good, warm, loyal friend.
Before you ask, no. I will not be introducing a fast-aging, half-breed child of Sam and Carly's with an effed up name to be Freddie's new girlfriend.
If you don't understand that reference, I applaud you.
And another note: Mixwe has convinced me to keep this story T-rated. If there is any portion of it that is M, it will be a separate, individual, optional insert. Allusions may be made to sexual activity, but nothing graphic. There's a lot of other fics that are super-smutty so you pervs out there shouldn't be left wanting. ;)