DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter.
April 8, 2011 (Friday)
Cedar Crest Elementary
Lima, Ohio
7:25AM
Sam edged the truck into a parking space as close to the school entrance as possible during prime drop off time. He had taken his truck this morning; because he had to work today. Gas was expensive and he made due with walking everywhere as much as possible. Usually they walked here, so they got there pretty early, but they had gotten off to a late start today.
Sam parked the truck and engaged the emergency parking brake, before he unbuckled his seat belt and turned to face the munchkins. Stevie was busy unfastening his belt, but Stacey was having trouble with hers.
"Sammy, it's stuck." She said, her voice bordering on a whine. Sam smiled at her.
"Alright, give me a second," he replied, before opening his door and stepping out. "Stevie, you wait until I get over there before opening that door!" He instructed the seven-year old who had just reached for the handle. He looked back at Sam and nodded.
Sam opened Stacey's door and they worked together to yank the buckle out of the clasp. When she was free, Sam lifted her out of the car and grabbed her blue backpack and her lunchbox. He held her in his arms and kicked the door shut with his foot. He walked around the side of the truck still holding her.
Stacey's arms were on his shoulders and she played with the ends of his hair. "Your hair's gettin' long, Sammy," she said with a giggle. "It's gonna look like my hair soon."
Sam gave her an amused look before opening Stevie's door with his fingers.
"Do you guys have your sweaters?" he asked because even though it was April the wind sometimes got chilly. And the last thing they needed was for the two of them to get sick.
Sam set Stacey on the ground between him and the open truck door. He handed her the backpack and lunchbox, before lifting Stevie out of the truck and putting him down next to his twin.
Stevie showed him the red sweatshirt he had in his hand while Stacey dug around in her blue backpack.
"Yeah Sammy!" Stacey answered, "I have mine." She fished hers out of her backpack to show him that they had listened when he told him to pack one. Hers was a lightweight purple zip up. Sam nodded at her and she put it back inside, before sliding her arms through the straps of her bag.
Sam grabbed Stevie's red backpack off the seat and his Batman lunchbox—one that had actually been his years ago. He handed them to the small boy, before glancing them over.
Stacey was wearing a green cotton dress with bell sleeves and an empire waist. It was cute and slightly fading from wash and wear, but Sam had found it at a Goodwill Store for less than a dollar. Stacey loved that dress; as well as the solid white Keds that were on her feet.
Sam had found those at a garage sale for ten cents—they were in pretty bad shape before, but he had taken bleach and water and an old rag and scrubbed at them until they were white again. Her hair was down and he'd put a matching glittery white butterfly clips on both sides of her head.
Stevie had on a navy blue t-shirt and some faded jeans and sneakers. His hair was brushed, but it was getting long too. They hadn't been able to afford haircuts and Sam had no idea how to do such a thing. They both looked presentable enough so he ushered them out of the way and closed the door. Holding their hands, Sam walked them to the doors of the school. Stacey chattering on about the art project they'd be doing in class today.
When they reached the doors, Sam squeezed their hands before letting go. He looked down at Stevie. "You be good today, alright?" he asked, "I don't want another message from your teacher saying that you were being disrespectful."
On Monday, Sam had come home to a note from Stevie's science teacher saying that he had disrupted class and that if his behavior didn't stop then he would have to have a parent-teacher conference. When Sam asked Stevie why he'd gotten in trouble, the seven-year old told him that his teacher had said that dolphins were fish and he'd corrected her—informing her that they were mammals because they were warm-blooded. The teacher hadn't appreciated it.
Sam thought it was hilarious, but he told Stevie not to do it again.
"Yeah, yeah," Stevie groused, "It's not my fault she was wrong."
"You still have to be nice, Superman." Sam told him and ruffled his hair.
"And she's a teacher—so she should read a book once in a while. That would help her more than me being nice."
Sam wouldn't admit it, but Stevie did have a point. The teacher could have been more gracious, because he hadn't said anything to make her look bad, but people were people and everyone hated to be wrong—him included.
"I know it's not fair, kiddo, but sometimes you just have to do what's right—no matter how anyone else acts." Sam told him and Stevie let out a put upon sigh before nodding.
"Fine, I'll be good," he said and Sam lightly flicked his forehead.
Stevie elbowed him in the side and Sam laughed. For a second, Stevie looked like he wanted to hug his brother, but his friends called his name and he didn't.
"Bye Sam!" he called before he jogged over to the group of six boys standing by the doors.
"Bye Stevie! Mom is picking you up this afternoon!"
He got an absentminded wave in acknowledgement and Sam had to laugh. Stacey tugged on his arm. He looked down at her as she raised her arms, demanding a hug. He bent down and Stacey embraced him tightly. He made a move to stand up, but she held on tighter.
He felt a wet spot form on his shoulder and a concerned frown settled over his features. "Stacey?" he asked and she started crying. He knelt down on the steps; completely ignoring the other kids running around them.
"What's wrong?" he questioned, feeling his heart clench as he wrapped his arms around her. She didn't cry often. Stacey was his little tomboy—they loved playing baseball together. She watched the football games with him and his dad—she sometimes screamed louder than they did. Stacey was his biggest fan. She demanded to come to all of his football games and he always saw her jumping and yelling for him.
She was still a princess though and she had her emotional moments, but never out of the blue like this. "I-I don't know," she said into his shoulder. "I'm scared, Sammy."
Hearing the fear in his sister's voice made him want to punch a wall. He hated when she felt helpless. No child should have to be scared like this. He had never been gladder to have handed over that check. "Of what?"
"Of you being sad all the time. You don't smile like you used to. You don't play music at home anymore. I just have a bad feelin' and there's nothing I can do to make you happy."
"Ah, Stacey," Sam sighed, his guilt tripling. "You make me happy." Stacey pulled back to look at his face. Sam's heart broke at the side of her flushed face and teary eyes. Stacey was born to smile—that was when she was the most beautiful.
"I do?" she asked, sniffling.
"Yeah, Sunshine," he said as he brushed her bangs out of her eyes. Her blue orbs lit up at her nickname and Sam smiled at her. "I don't need money or games or movies to make me happy, because I have you and Stevie."
"I love you, Sammy."
Sam kissed her forehead. "I love you too, Stacey. Now come on, we don't want you to be late." Stacey wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hand and she hugged Sam around the waist. He hugged her back with one arm, before she let go and started up the stairs.
"Remember that mom is picking you up today!" he said and Stacey turned around to wave at him.
"Okay! Bye Sammy!" she yelled before she was blindsided in a hug by two of her friends—a brunette and a redheaded little girl. The sound of their giggling made him smile as he turned away and walked back to his truck. It was time to go cash a check.
April 8, 2011 (Friday)
McKinley High School
Lima, Ohio
9:45AM
Sam arrived at school when first period was almost over. Cashing that check had taken a lot longer than Sam had expected. At first, he thought they were going to put it in a bank account, but Elizabeth realized that their debtors had all of the family bank information and that the money would be gone before they even got back to the motel. So they cashed it—got it in hundred dollar bills and his mom shoved it in her purse before anyone could see.
They didn't want to be robbed before they had a chance to change things around. The bank had required identification and proof and they had gone through at least three people before the bank manager had to take care of them.
His simpering had gotten on Sam's nerves because he'd tried to make numerous sales, but the Evans were not looking for his business. They shared a laugh when they left at the disgruntled looks on the employees' faces.
Sam drove his mother home and had to hurry to get to school in time to make second period. He locked his truck doors and made it to his locker before the bell rung. Moving quickly, Sam opened his locker and threw in the books he needed for his next two classes. When he spotted Rachel and Tina making a beeline for him, he contemplated his options.
He really didn't want to talk to or even see anyone from Glee club at the moment, but he also remembered what he'd told Stevie this morning about doing what was right and he didn't want to be a hypocrite. He looked over his shoulder and saw Rachel opening her mouth to call to him from across the hall.
Panic set in and before he'd even realized what he was doing; Sam had slammed his locker door shut and walked briskly down the hall. As he ducked into his classroom, he ignored Rachel and Tina calling his name. He would talk to them later today—maybe.
April 8, 2011 (Friday)
McKinley High School
Lima, Ohio
12:17PM
Sam was proud of himself. He'd successfully managed to avoid all members of Glee. Sam swore that those people were ninjas. They just kept popping up out of nowhere. Finn had come out of a random bathroom stall and scared the crap out of Sam. Puck had waited outside his math class, and Artie had nearly mowed him down in the hallway when Sam was sprinting away from Quinn and Kurt.
He had been chased up and around this whole damn school and somehow, every member of Glee club had found him. Sam was determined to have a moment of peace during lunch though. That was why he'd snuck into the auditorium with his packed lunch.
He knew that everyone would be in cafeteria today. They were serving tots and pizza—the most epic of lunchroom combinations at McKinley, and no one would miss it—with the exception of Sam that is. It wasn't like he could afford it anyway.
Sam sighed as he sat down on the edge of polished stage floor; his feet hanging over the side. Sam pulled out his ham and cheese sandwich, a Ziploc of carrots and the two grape juice boxes he had to drink. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep his hunger down until dinner.
He had just taken a bite of his sandwich when a voice spoke up, "Finally! I thought I'd never get you alone."
Sam nearly choked on his food as he looked over his shoulder. Mercedes stood there, her hands on her hips. She was wearing a white t-shirt with black jeans and neon green chucks. Her hair fell across her shoulders in soft curls and her nose ring glimmered in the stage lights.
He wondered how the hell she had gotten in here without him hearing her. Freakin' ninjas, all of them.
Sam swallowed his bite of food. "What do you want?" he asked, turning his back to her.
He heard her walk closer, but he didn't even want to look at her. His disappointment in them all was stronger than his anger. They had reacted exactly how he thought they would have and even though he knew it would happen; he still felt like he'd been let down.
Mercedes sat next to him and Sam continued eating his sandwich. She had stalked him around the school, so if she had something to say she would have to speak up—he wasn't going to make it any easier for her.
"Can we talk Sam?" she asked quietly and Sam paused—his hand outstretched towards his bag of carrots.
"What's there to talk about?" he retorted and Mercedes sighed.
"I know you're angry, and you have every right to be," she began and despite his best intentions he was listening to her. He wasn't a bad guy and it took a lot for him to be mean to people. Damn his conscience. "I judged you unfairly without even trying to get to know you or even trying to figure out your side of the story. A lot of it has to do with the fact that I was jealous of Kurt and Blaine and then to hear that he could've been ditching me and Blaine to cheat with you—well that just kind of pissed me off. And I opened my mouth without thinking."
Sam couldn't believe his ears. Mercedes Jones, a born diva with a killer voice, was telling him of all people about her mistakes and shortcomings. He just stared at her—torn between shock and awe.
"I want to apologize for being so rude, yesterday. I sincerely regret even joining that badmouthing brigade, and I know that I hurt you," Mercedes stated and raised her head to look Sam directly in the eye.
He wasn't the greatest with reading emotions but he could see the sincerity in her brown eyes. Her expression was open and honest and incredibly vulnerable. He felt honored that she would show this side of herself to him—a person who had every right to tear into her and hurt her. That took a type of strength that Sam knew he didn't possess.
"Will you forgive me?" she asked and in that moment, she earned his respect. A person that could open herself to hurt and admit their mistakes to the person they wronged was amazing. But someone who would look another in the eye and ask for forgiveness was beyond incredible. Realizing that he had taken awhile to answer, and seeing her forlorn expression, Sam answered.
"Yes," he replied and Mercedes looked depressed. He wondered why, before he realized that she hadn't even listened to his reply.
"Mercedes," he said with a touch to her arm, "I said yes, I forgive you."
Her eyes widened and she smiled brightly at him. It was the first time Sam had ever been this close to a smiling Mercedes Jones and the sight of her joy surprised him. The phrase 'her smile could light up a room' seemed fitting. He blushed when he realized he was staring.
He looked away quickly and fiddled with his bag of carrots. Mercedes looked amused. "Thank the Lord you forgave me," she quipped. Sam gave her a questioning look. "What? It's pizza and tots day in the cafeteria and I gave up my tots to come apologize. It would've been disappointing to miss out on tater tots and still be on the outs with you."
Sam had heard about Mercedes' love of tater tots, and the fact that she gave that up for him made him feel all warm and tingly inside. He grinned shyly at her, before looking around him at his measly lunch.
He picked up a juice box and held it out in her direction. Mercedes looked startled. "It's not much but you can have one of my juices and we can share my carrots." Sam said sheepishly, and Mercedes stared at him for a moment.
"A juice box?" she asked skeptically, and Sam blushed.
"They're super cheap," he replied and Mercedes grinned.
"Uh-huh, I'm sure that's the only reason," she teased. Sam's face went bright red as the girl gently took the juice box from his hand. She popped in the straw and Sam copied her actions.
"You're right," he admitted, "I do kind of love juice boxes. My favorite is the cherry flavor, but everyone hates that one."
"Everyone says they taste like cough syrup," Mercedes and Sam stated at the same time causing Mercedes to laugh and Sam to smile. He took a carrot and handed her the bag, which she took with a grin. Sam ate his carrot slowly and Mercedes nibbled on hers.
When the silence became slightly awkward, Sam spoke, "I don't have a lot to offer you, except my company—which I can't say is that wonderful, but I'd like to get to know you; if you're willing to be friends with a dyslexic homeless jock, that is."
Sam gave her a lopsided grin and Mercedes let out a laugh. She held her juice in one hand and nudged Sam with her shoulder. Their eyes met and Mercedes said, "I would rather be friends with a dyslexic homeless jock than a popular star quarterback any day of the week. And I'd say that your company is worth far more than any amount of money."
Sam felt his lips quirk up into a smile and Mercedes winked at him. They spent the rest of the lunch period, drinking juice and eating carrots—chatting about their classes. When the bell rang, they went their separate ways.
Mercedes was happy that she'd skipped lunch and even though she knew she was going to be super hungry by the end of school—she wouldn't trade her lunch of grape juice and carrots for anything.
Sam Evans was nothing like she'd expected.
April 8, 2011 (Friday)
The Motel Six
Lima, Ohio
11:36PM
When Sam parked in front of the motel after a five hour shift at the pizzeria, he was exhausted. There had been a ton of deliveries this afternoon and his boss had been in a bad mood. After that lunch with Mercedes, it had been a pretty crappy day, but when he was leaving—a guy had given him a fifty dollar tip.
The smile he'd given the guy had probably been blinding, but he was extremely grateful. So, he stopped at the nearby Wal-Mart and dollar store to get some groceries for the next week. Sam walked up to the door, his arms full of grocery bags. He kicked the door quickly, hoping to get his mother's attention.
"Mom, it's me, Sam!" he called out when no one responded. The door opened and he looked up, but didn't see anyone. He turned to the side and blinked when he saw Stevie standing there.
"Superman, what are you doing still up?" he asked as he walked in and kicked the door closed. He put the groceries on the rickety kitchen table and turned to look at his brother.
That was when he noticed something was wrong. Stacey was curled up in a ball on the bed and he could hear her crying. Stevie was still standing by the door. He was staring at Sam, looking terrified. "Guys, what's wrong?" he asked concerned as he walked over to Stacey and placed a hand on her back.
She flung herself into his arms as soon as she noticed him and Stevie wasn't far behind. "Guys," Sam said, his voice shaking a little as the two clung to him. Stacey's nails were digging into his shoulders and Stevie was wrapped so tightly around his waist that Sam was having trouble breathing. "What's wrong? What happened? Where's mom?"
Sam noticed that his mother wasn't there and he didn't hear anything from the bathroom. Thinking about it, he didn't see her car outside either.
The urgency in Sam's voice must have frightened them, but Stevie responded first, "She left, Sammy." Now, he knew something was wrong. Stevie never called him Sammy; he'd always said it was a girlie name.
"What do you mean she left?" he asked, and Stacey started sobbing. The sound was heart wrenching. He stopped questioning them and just focused on calming them down. He rubbed their backs and made soothing noises, just muttering to them that everything would be okay.
It took him almost twenty minutes to get them to stop crying and ten more to get them to partially detach themselves and let him sit down. Sam had an arm around each of them and they both tried to crawl into his sides. "I need you guys to tell me what happened. And tell me everything."
"Mommy picked us up from school," Stacey whispered, "She brought us home and she was acting funny."
"It was like she was happy and sad at the same time," Stevie said, "And when Stacey asked her what was wrong, she yelled at her. So we both got quiet. When we got home, she had us do homework while she went around grabbing stuff. She made us dinner and then she told us that she was going to go out for awhile, but she'd be back."
"Well I'm sure, she'll be back soon—"Sam started, but he couldn't deny that he was pissed that his mom had left the two in this crappy motel alone at night. He couldn't even begin to fathom what she was thinking. And boy was he going to have it out with her when she got back.
"No, Sammy, she left at seven. She hasn't come back yet." Stacey told him. Sam's heartbeat picked up. Seven? That didn't make sense. She knew that Sam didn't get off work until ten thirty that night and his dad wouldn't get back until after midnight.
Maybe she was in a car accident, he thought in a panic. What if she's lying in a ditch somewhere? Sam tried to keep the worry off his face so he wouldn't set the twins off again.
"Okay," Sam said, "Everything is fine, you two. You need to go to bed, and I'll get this all figured out, alright?"
"But Sammy—"
"Guys!" Sam stated his voice authoritative. The twins stopped talking immediately. "This isn't a discussion. You two are going to bed. And I'll try to find mom. I know you're scared, but I'm right here and I'm not leaving."
The two looked slightly reassured and Sam contained the desire to sigh heavily. He picked them up and dropped them at the head of the bed. Sam gently tucked them into bed and kissed them goodnight. Within minutes, the two had passed out. Sam studied them for a moment, before his worry and anxiety set in. He walked over to the motel phone and dialed his mother's number from memory.
Straight to voicemail. Sam called seven times. Each one—straight to voicemail.
That was something that didn't help his thoughts. Sam paced around the small room, before he put away the groceries. He perked up at every sound, but the door never opened and the phone didn't ring. Sighing heavily, Sam gathered some night clothes and went to take a shower.
There was nothing he could do without leaving his siblings and he'd promised that he wouldn't do that. So he was stuck.
He closed the door behind him and set his clothes on the small shelf next to the shower and above the towel rack. When he turned around, he saw a piece of paper stuck to the mirror. A smile crossed his face as he realized that his mom had probably left a note. He shook his head, feeling calm and took the note off the mirror.
Sam unfolded the note and as he read the two sentences on the paper—he felt his world crumble.
He couldn't believe his eyes. There was a rushing sound in his head and his chest felt tight. His legs wobbled before they gave in and he collapsed to the floor. He couldn't even feel the pain that radiated from his knees hitting the marble flooring.
His whole body felt numb as he slid onto his butt and fell against the wall. For hours, Sam just stared at nothing; feeling and hearing and seeing absolutely nothing.
When Jeffrey Evans walked into the motel room at two o'clock in the morning, he saw the twins fast asleep in the bed, but his wife was missing and so was Sam. He spied the light shining under the bathroom door and he walked over to it.
He knocked on the door softly, but got no answer. He opened the unlocked door. "Sam? Elizabeth?" he asked before he stuck his head in the door. The blood drained from his face when he noticed his son in the corner of the room, looking sickly.
"Sam?" he questioned as he hurried to his son's side. Sam didn't even respond; he just stared at his father with glassy eyes. "Sam, what's wrong, son?" Jeffrey was kneeling next to Sam, his hands outstretched—wondering what to do.
Sam said nothing, he just held up the piece of paper. "Sam?" Jeffrey asked again as he took the paper from Sam's hand.
He opened it up and read it. Jeffrey felt the air leave his lungs in a stunned gasp. He looked from Sam to the note—the tears gathering in his eyes and he couldn't even find words.
"Jesus, Sam," Jeffrey breathed and something about his statement brought Sam out of his trance and straight into a blistering rage.
"This is your fault!" Sam hissed. Jeffrey had never seen such anguished hatred in his son's eyes before. "Yours! How could you not see anything? Why didn't you do anything to stop this?" Sam's voice was rising and Jeff had no idea what to do.
"Samuel, stop!" he tried, but Sam only got angrier. He launched himself at his father in a physical attack and Jeffrey was too shocked to do anything but be blindsided by the stunned blow. Sam wrestled his dad and tried slamming him against the wall; all of his swinging fueled by absolute rage and hurt.
Jeffrey regained control of the fight after Sam landed a hard punch to his stomach. He struggled his way into a standing position with Sam still yelling and trying to hit him. He didn't want to hit his son, so he didn't retaliate at all as he tried to maneuver them into a place where Sam couldn't strike him anymore.
When Jeff got Sam in a pinned position against the wall, Sam bucked wildly trying to get away. "Get off me!" he growled and Jeff pulled his son into a backwards hug.
"Sam, listen to me—"
"I don't want to listen to you! I don't want to listen to anybody. What good does listening do?"
"Sam, please, stop this—"
"I hate you!" The words cut Jeff to the core, even though he knew they weren't true. Sam was hurt. He felt beyond betrayed by someone he'd loved his whole life. He had every right to be angry and this blind rage was because he had nothing else to blame.
Jeff—despite all of his parental instincts telling him not to do so—let his son go.
Sam flung himself away from his father and stared at him accusingly. Seeing the hatred on his son's face was the ugliest expression he had ever been subject to. It made the father want to shrivel and die on the inside—seeing his eldest son in such a broken state.
Sam pulled open the bathroom door roughly and he stormed out of the bathroom with Jeff following him. "Sam, please." He begged his son for the first time ever, but Sam didn't listen—he just grabbed his black hoody and keys, before he opened the front door.
"Sam!" Jeff yelled, but the blond ignored him. Sam took off in a dead sprint down the street and Jeff watched his son run away from him with tears in his eyes. The urge to go after him was choking him, but he had two other children to think about.
Sam had a chance of fending for himself, but Stevie and Stacey were practically helpless. There was a tightness in his chest that Jeff couldn't soothe. He was worried and panicked over the fact that his son was running around at night in a blind rage—just spoiling for a fight.
He looked down at the note that was somehow still in his hand and felt his heart break. He had known she was acting differently, but he never expected this. He'd thought that the money from Sam's guitar would turn things around—not turn them upside down. And Elizabeth had destroyed any and all progress they'd made as a family in one solid blow.
With two sentences, she had broken more hearts than he had in a lifetime.
I'm sorry. I can't do it anymore. –Elizabeth
Her things were gone-he could clearly see that now. All of her clothing that had been hung in the small closet was gone; shoes, books, everything. And what was worse, she had taken the seven grand from Sam's guitar with her. Leaving them with nothing, and Sam's greatest sacrifice—a worthless loss.
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