Oh my God!! Ever since I started watching Supernatural again I've had like 43 story ideas and they refuse to leave me alone until they're written!! They're starting to overlap...O.o Anyway, hope you enjoy this!! It started out as a oneshot but I decided to extend it :D
I still own nothing :( But if I did...wow...*wanders off with dirty thoughts*
"So you're going to be a freshman, huh?" The woman behind the administrations desk asked, winking at the young man standing awkwardly in front of her.
"Uh, yes ma'am." Sam answered hesitantly, watching as she pulled out a few transfer forms from a drawer hidden behind the desk. Today was his first day of high school; well, this high school. He'd already been to a number of different schools around the country, most of the time only for a few weeks until they had to move again. Dean often asked him why he insisted on enrolling in school every time they moved somewhere new but Sam just shrugged and explained that he actually wanted to have a normal school experience when everything else in their life was so abnormal. Dean didn't get it; he had gotten his GED and was perfectly content with having never walked across the stage to receive a diploma but for some reason Sam didn't see it that way. He wanted to graduate on time with an actual class and there was very little he or his father could say about it.
"Alright, here we go." The woman said, plucking a pen off the desk and scribbling a few things into the blanks on the paper. "What's your full name, hon?"
Sam had been through this enough times to perfect his story. His name was Samuel James Howell, his birthday was August 22nd, 1983, social security number was 891-43-1872, he and his family had moved here from South Carolina for his father's business. He answered all of the questions automatically, not really having to think about the response as hard as he used to. The story had been carefully constructed by his father and older brother so that way he wouldn't have to pause after each question to come up with an appropriate answer. The less suspicions raised the better.
The woman nodded as he answered all of her questions and passed him the paper. "Okay, hon, I just need you to sign here to acknowledge that you understand the school's policies and regulations.
Sam nodded and signed his name in the blanks she pointed to, skimming over the paragraph as he did. It was exactly the same as every other school he had been to.
"Alright, and since you're starting a little later in the semester, I'm going to have to put you into regular classes instead of the advanced program."
Sam shrugged a little. "That's fine." In most of the other schools he had been placed in the AP classes because of his high reading level but it wasn't a terrible loss to be in a regular class either.
The woman filled out a few more papers and grinned at him. "Alright, Mr. Howell. You're all done." She passed him a thin plastic card attached to a lanyard and a sheet of paper. "This is your student ID," She explained, pointing to the card. "And this is your schedule. Go upstairs to room 109 and just show the teacher your ID. Welcome to Deland High."
Sam took the schedule and tucked it in his pocket, slipping the lanyard over his head as well. "Thank you." He said honestly, flashing her a smile as he stepped out into the hallway of the unfamiliar building. Taking a deep, calming breath, he started up the stairs to his first class.
Sam knocked on the door softly, waiting outside until a middle-aged woman with graying blond hair opened the door. She looked at him in confusion for a second before smiling. "You must be Sam, right?"
Sam nodded hesitantly, pulling out his schedule and handing it to her. "Yeah, I was told this was my first class."
The woman looked over the schedule for a second and nodded. "Yep, you're in the right place." She handed it back to him and smiled. "My name is Mrs. Davenport." She stepped aside and nodded for him to walk into the classroom.
Almost immediately, the noise from within stopped and every person in the room locked eyes on Sam. He shifted uncomfortably, suddenly embarrassed by all the attention, but the teacher appeared behind him and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Everyone, this is Sam Howell. He just moved here from South Carolina so please try to make him feel at home here in Deland." There was a murmur of "Hi Sam" before everyone went back to what they had been doing previously.
Mrs. Davenport pointed to a desk in the back of the room and told Sam he could use it if he wanted to. Sam walked quietly over to the desk and slid into the seat, reaching into his backpack and retrieving a notebook and a pen. The kid sitting to his right waved a little as he glanced over and a dark-haired girl sitting in front of him flashed him a flirty smile that caused him to blush.
"Alright, everyone." Mrs. Davenport said from the front of the class room. "Yesterday we began our poetry unit." She pulled a thin book from her desk and held it up. "Today we're going to be reading a few poems by Emily Dickenson and I want you to analyze the sentence structure and break down the prose just like we did yesterday." She ignored the collective groans and sighs echoing around the classroom and picked up an armful of books, walking around the room and placing one on each student's desk.
"Man, why do we have to analyze a stupid poem by that chick who wrote the Christmas story?" A young man sitting a couple seats away from Sam groaned, flipping his pencil across his knuckles irritably. "It's October, Christmas is still two months away."
Sam arched an eyebrow. "'Christmas Story'? You mean a Christmas Carol?"
The other boy looked at him challengingly. He had dark hair and dark eyes that narrowed when they came to rest on Sam's face. "Yeah, so?"
"Well, a Christmas Carol was written by Charles Dickens, not Emily Dickinson."
Following the giggles at the correction, the other boy's face began to flush in embarrassment. "So, you think you're pretty smart, huh new kid?" His voice darkened a little as he spoke, the idea of being shown up by a new student clearly not sitting well with him.
"No, I was just saying you were thinking of two different authors." Sam shrugged slightly, not really sure why the other boy was getting so upset. "I just figured everyone knew who Charles Dickens was because of a Christmas Carol; hell, I've known that since fifth grade."
There was another chorused murmuring agreeing with Sam and the other boy's face darkened even further. "You little punk-" He growled, standing a little.
"Travis, just drop it." The brunette girl in front of him sighed, waving her hand dimissively in his direction.
"No one was talking to you, Sara." Travis snapped irritably, glaring daggers at Sam.
"Mr. Palmer." The teacher said, shooting him a warning glance. "That's enough. I will send you to the office again if you continue to be a disruption."
Travis refused to sit for a second, still glaring angrily at Sam. Finally, he fell back into his seat, flipping his pencil angrily a few more times.
Sam swallowed slowly, not entirely sure why the other boy had become so hostile so quickly. He picked up his book and flipped it open, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see the dark glare tracing his every move. Deciding to ignore it, he turned his attention back to the book and began reading through the poems.
The rest of the day was relatively uneventful. Sam had tried to apologize to Travis after English but the other boy had stormed out before he got the chance to. With a heavy sigh, he turned down the hall and went off to his remaining classes. After the final bell for the day had sounded, Sam weaved his way through the exiting students to the front of the building.
He slipped his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Dean's number. They had been in Florida for just over two weeks which was more than enough time for him to get into school and Dean to find a job. He had told Sam to call him when he got done with school and he'd come pick him up considering it was damn near impossible to get a hold of their father most of the time.
"Hello?" Dean sounded distracted, a sharp ripping sound tearing through the background.
"Dean?" Sam asked, holding the phone away from his ear a little to block out the noise.
"Hey Sammy, how was school?" There was another ripping sound.
"Uh, great. What are you doing?" Sam asked, still holding the phone away from his ear.
"Putting together boxes." Dean sounded distracted, his voice slightly muffled as the phone pressed into his shoulder. He had found a part-time job at a printing store and was currently knee-deep in boxes that needed to be taped together in order to hold various amounts and sizes of paper.
"Sounds fun. Think you can come pick me up?" Sam asked, looking up at the cloudy sky. It looked like rain, but then again they were in Florida; rain really wasn't that uncommon.
"I wish I could Sammy," Dean started, ripping another piece of tape off the roll and slapping it onto a box. "But I have to finish about forty more boxes before I'm done here. Think you can hang out until about five?"
Sam hesitated and weighed his options. Stay in the parking lot of an unfamiliar school, in an unfamiliar town, in an unfamiliar state or make the thirty minute walk back to the motel they were camping out in? He'd go with the latter. "Nah, it's okay. I can walk."
Dean paused. "You sure? It's a pretty long walk."
"Yeah, it's fine." Sam reassured him, setting off into the parking lot. He had a good memory and could remember the easiest way back to the motel from the school's driveway.
"Alright, well be careful. Don't take candy from strangers or anything."
"Dean, I'm not five."
"Coulda fooled me." His older brother teased, ripping off another strip of tape. "I'll see you later."
"Alright, bye." Sam hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket, adjusting the straps on his backpack as he walked. A strong wind pushed the clouds a little closer, darkening the sky ever so slightly. Sam looked up and sighed softly, hoping it wouldn't rain before he got back to the motel. With little else in mind, he made his way across the street and began his trek down the sidewalk, completely unaware of the small group that had begun to follow along behind him.
Good? Bad? It picks up in the next chapter, I promise!! Hope to see you then!! :D