Sameen held her fist up to Root's door, hesitating. She'd brought a cake in the shape of an X as a gesture of peace; she'd even worn a ginger wig. If this didn't get Root to talk to her at least, she wasn't sure what would.
Swallowing, she knocked on the door and shifted the cake tray back into both hands. Root's footsteps thumped across the wooden floor and the door swung open.
"Hey…" Sameen trailed off as Root distractedly ran back into the treehouse.
She walked in slowly, pushing the door away with her shoulder, halting uncertainly in the center of the room. Root was shoving things into a bag on her bed, dressed to go out in shorts and rainboots.
"I brought you a gift," Sameen said. "A cake and a picture opportunity."
Root stuffed some cables into her duffel bag and glanced over her shoulder. Laughing, she turned to face Sameen.
"You actually wore the Scully wig," Root shook her head. "Wow."
Shaking her head to make the wig bounce, Sameen grinned. "If this isn't a gesture of good will, what is? And…" she held out her X-Files cake, "a cake. We missed two years of friendship a couple weeks ago, but I thought I'd do something."
Root pursed her lips. It made Sameen feel weird to be on this side of things. She remembered dumping Tomas and how he didn't stop texting her for weeks after. She grit her teeth. This wasn't the same at all; she loved Root and Root loved her, too. Hopefully.
"I'm busy," Root finally said, going back to packing her bag. "I don't have time for cake."
"But…I…" Sameen sputtered. "I baked it myself. Mrs. Reese didn't help at all. It's cream cheese icing."
"I'm glad that you're taking this time to better yourself," Root snarked. She shoved some clothing into her bag. "I'm bettering myself, too."
Sameen frowned and pushed the wig's bangs out of her face. "I don't know what that means."
"It means," said Root, glaring at her, "that I'm working on a project. Alone. Without you. I actually get a lot more done when you're not around."
"You did things when we were together," Sameen protested. "You built that computer. You were always on the NASA site. Um…Remember that robot you built? The kit that Lionel bought you."
Root rolled her eyes and zipped her bag shut. "That isn't what I mean. I'm not innovating like that. Right now, I'm experimenting with solar power and digital displays."
"Where?"
"That's none of your business," Root said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "You're not- "
"Your mother. Yeah, I got that." Sameen scowled. "I'm your best friend, Root, and your girlfriend, hopefully. I care about you." She winced. "As much as I can."
Root stepped towards her, eyes full of anger. Sameen had never seen this look before. Root looked older and harder and Sameen didn't recognize her.
"What do I have to do to get it through your thick skull that I'm not interested in being your friend right now?" Root reached out to push Sameen's chest. Her anger flagged and Sameen watched her swallow. "I know that you'll just disappoint me and leave me and let me down, that you're just like everyone else. Well, almost like everyone else. People aren't good, Sameen. Not people with feelings and certainly not you."
Growling, Sameen threw the cake to the floor. Root jumped back to avoid the splatter and stared down in shock. Sameen ripped the wig off her head and threw it at Root.
"I get it!" she shouted. "I get it. I'm not good enough. You're better than me. Fine."
Staring down at the cake, Root sighed. "Sameen, you worked so hard on that."
"I worked hard on us, too. I don't want to throw that away."
Root turned back to the bed, dropping the wig and picking up her bag. Her fingers ran over the dark blue sheets.
"I'm not in a good place right now. I think that's obvious," she slung the strap over her shoulder and turned around. "I'm not going to promise you anything. I don't know what I'll want in a month, or more, but right now…I want my space."
Sameen rolled her eyes. "You've had space for months. I've given you space!"
"There's no time limit on healing, Sameen!" Root cried, throwing her hands in the air. "I don't have some magical off-switch that makes me ok." She sighed and closed her eyes, her shoulders slumping. "Just trust me. I'm working on it."
"Yeah. You're working on something with all those weird cables," Sameen scoffed. "Just forget it. Enjoy the cake."
She turned and left the treehouse, her jaw clenched. Root called after her, but Sameen didn't look back.
Root was so full of shit, Sameen thought as she hurried down the ladder and headed into the house. 'I'm working on it.' Yeah, right. It had been almost three months since her mother had left and Root still refused to talk about how she felt.
Sameen slammed the door to the house shut behind her, stomping down the hall and up the stairs. Root wanted some space? Sameen could give her space. She could have all space in the fucking world. Sameen didn't care what she did in the treehouse. She definitely didn't care what Root did in whatever secret place she was taking those cables.
She burst into her room and slammed the door shut. Root wasn't the most important person in Sameen's life; she might think she was, but she was wrong. Sameen had other people in her life, like Mrs. Reese and John and Lionel and Bear.
She paced around her room. Turning to her desk she growled and launched forward, knocking everything off. The small motor she'd been working on crashed to the floor, scraping the wood. She'd been working on it for Root's Vespa, another gesture of goodwill; it seems pointless now that Root clearly doesn't give two shits about her.
She looked around for something else to destroy. A book on her shelf caught her eye: Lord of The Flies. It was the first book Root had read aloud to her, on Valentine's day – their first – when Root visited her at Lambert's shop.
She yanked it off the shelf and threw it across the room, feeling better when it banged against the wall. She turned back to the shelf and grabbed another book, and another, until there was a pile in her corner. She stared at the pile, panting from the effort.
It wasn't enough. Root made her so crazy. That had been a good thing until so recently, and now it made her want to stab something. She closed her eyes trying to remember the last time she'd been so angry.
She scowled as she remembered the day. It was when she was ten or so, just before her dad died. They were at the mall and her mother was telling her a story about a prince and a princess. The princess lived in a tall castle and the prince was from a distant land. He'd come all the way across the sea to meet the princess and win her affections.
Sameen knew the story, of course; her mother told it all the time, but she loved to hear it over and over. Just before her mother got to the part where the prince climbs the castle and gives the princess the most precious thing he owned, his heart, a boy had bumped into Sameen and knocked her to the ground.
Instead of crying, or whatever it was normal kids did, Sameen had thrown herself at the kid and tackled him. She'd punched him in the face until her father pulled her away. She was so mad that he'd ruined the story that she didn't care, didn't even think about the consequences.
Shaking her head, she pulled herself back to the present. More. She needed more. She turned to Root's bookshelf and frowned; they'd brought all of Root's things over from the house after her mother had left. Most of it was in the treehouse now, but a lot of Root's books were here.
She walked over to look at the shelves. Most of them were about computers, or aliens, or were 60s lesbian romance novels. She'd never read the romance novels – they were just too trashy for her – but Root loved them. During the summer trip, she'd recited some of the sex scenes from memory. It was hot, in a nerdy way.
Reaching forward, Sameen pulled one off the shelf. Root would be really upset if anything happened to these. She smirked and ripped the cover off. She tossed it over her shoulder and grabbed the next one, destroying it, too.
Grabbing six books off the next shelf down, she thought of the anger in Root's eyes and threw them into her corner with a grunt of effort. Root didn't even want to be here. None of her stuff deserved to be here, either. She emptied the shelves all the way to the floor, then reached for the one above her head.
Her fingers brushed against something cool; she pushed herself onto her toes to pull the object down. It was the snow globe, the one she'd given to Root when they'd started talking again after Tomas. It was Nishapur, her mother's hometown.
Her hands tightened around the base. She could destroy it and feel nothing. She wouldn't feel loss or regret or guilt. Root would, though. Maybe not right away, but in a few months or a year when she stopped being such a bitch she'd notice the snow globe was gone and she'd miss it.
Sighing, Sameen put it back on the shelf. It had been expensive, and there was no point in playing the long game.
Someone knocked on her door.
"Uh, Shaw?" John's voice asked. "Are you alright in there?"
"I'm fine," Sameen snapped. "Go away." She realized she sounded like Root and rolled her eyes. "Thanks for asking, but I'm fine."
"I was wondering if you wanted to go get pizza," he offered. "Maybe talk?"
The last thing on Earth she wanted to do right now was talk. She wanted to smash her TV with her bare hands. She wanted to see if she was strong enough to break her desk into pieces. She wanted… to eat cake with Root on the roof and watch the stars.
"Fine," she sighed, "but you're paying."