A lot can happen in two years.
In a span of two years, I grew three inches, dropped an octave, and took up fencing through the school, which contrary to popular belief does give you a fantastic build. I would say I have progressed for the better. Of course, I am still an "AV enthusiast." Ok… I'm still a dork. But now that I'm considered good looking by most female standards, it doesn't bother me anymore.
As I said, two years is a long time. I say this because in a span of two years, Carly has also changed. But, compared to myself, Carly did quite the opposite. It was a regression to say the least. And well, maybe this is stupid but I blame it on her chest. From freshman year to sophomore year it went from an A to a DD. I'm assuming you have a good idea of what happens next. If you guessed "she turns into a slut," you guessed incorrectly. If you guessed "she turned into a dirty, loose, soul-sucking, hand jobs for cash, bitch-faced whore" then we have a winner. I'm going to put it easily and say, that I am trapped in that friendship.
As for Sam, well, Sam is Sam. Out of the three she is the only one who didn't change drastically. She stayed the same height, her hair is the same but her face thinned out showing her bone structure more. She joined the volleyball team and it seemed to calm her down. A lot. Over the years, her abuse slowly turned to witty comebacks and playful banter. Instead of dreading her presence, I look forward to it. I can honestly say I consider her a best friend, and no longer a rude, bitchy, food vacuum.
The date was November 1, 2011. It was unusually hot for fall. The ground was covered with pumpkin pieces, toilet paper and abandoned costume accessories. The walk to school was uneventful. Last night was rather uneventful as well, to my disappointment. A couple of guys from fencing had a party and I made an appearance. Once everyone started to get drunk, I high tailed it. Over my dead body was I driving them home, they can suck my balls. I stopped by Carly's to say hello and Spencer insisted I help him glue thirty nine paper mache penises to a picnic table. I glued a few and then asked Spencer where Carly was. He mumbled something about a party with Sterling and returned to his penis picnic. At the precise moment Sam barged in and looked right at me. I then realized I was still holding a green paper penis.
"Happy Halloween… and what are you supposed to be, Freddie?" she folded her arms over her chest. She smiled and her eyes lit up. I laughed lightly.
"A faggot, Sam" I realized a year or so back that it's best to play along with her, and in actuality it makes the situation much more fun.
"Silly Freddie!" She walked up to me and sat on the arm of the couch. "You're supposed to dress up for Halloween!" She took the penis out of my hand and tossed it from one hand to another, as if it was a baseball, "Spencer, if you don't mind me asking, but what the fuck is with the cock party?"
"It's for a client." He answered, obviously wrapped up in his work.
"Spencer, Lewbert's birthday is next week." She giggled and handed him the green penis. I laughed and a mental image of Spencer's table in Lewbert's musty apartment came to my mind. It was clear the same image came to Sam's mind because she burst into laughter.
"So what are you tonight?" I asked Sam and she looked down at her outfit. It was a typical outfit of hers. A black pair of sweat pants that spelled PINK across the ass, a tight gray shirt that spelled billabong across the chest, and a white bandana across her forehead. She examined her outfit.
"A sexy beast."
We all chuckle at her 'costume.' My mom decided then to take me home and we spent the rest of the night together in the living room doing sudoku. It's really turned into a tradition with us. We both sit in our living room, put our feet up on the coffee table and let the silence of sudoku take over the room. I used to dread it but once I got over the fact that I will being doing it so long as I lived there, I got used to it. After a few years, I learned to love it. It's a game of logic, thinking, and learning from mistakes. I could do it for hours on end.
But anyway, back to November 1, 2011. Arriving at school is always a pain. Since we had 14 bomb threats in the past two months alone, the school has really pushed up security. We have airport style metal detectors, guards, and a school ID scanner. Since Carly had early morning detention and I lacked a ride, I was one of the last to show up. I got onto the end of the ridiculous line.
"Missing something, Benson?" I turn around and am faced with Sam. She smiles a sly smile and asks her question again.
"Well, nothing that I'm aware of, but I'm sure you'll tell me." I tease. Her dark blue eyes lit up.
"Are you gonna guess?" She eggs me on. I roll my eyes, but to be quite honest I don't mind her games as much as I used to.
"You stole my…phone?" She shakes her head.
"No… but that's a good idea. I'll remember that one for future reference," She winks playfully, "Thanks for the inspiration."
"I give up. What is it?"
"Your wallet, duh." She holds up my leather wallet. To say the least, I was stunned.
"How the fuck did you get my wallet?" I took it out of her hand and made sure it was mine. Indeed it was, my license, library card, school ID, credit card all exactly the way it was when I shoved it in my pocket this morning.
"I pit-pocketed you," She smiled proudly and inched forward in the line, "Oh and you might want to consider putting your wallet on a chain or something. I've never stolen anything so easily in my life."
"Number one: how many wallets have you stolen? Number two: where did you learn how to pit-pocket? Number three: why would anyone teach you to pit-pocket?" She rolled her eyes, but smiles despite herself. I love her smile, it's all toothy. I just don't like it if it's at my expense.
"You know I'm not good at tests. But I'll give this one a shot. Answer to number one is one. Yours. But when I was learning, I had to steal from my relatives. But they knew I was going to do it, thus making it pretty difficult. Two is my dad," I watched the light leave her eye but she continued, "He thought it would be a valuable life skill. He was seriously right though. Pit-pocketing is an amazing talent to possess, like driving stick shift. Three: I resent that question and refuse to answer it." She folds her arms over her chest and glared at me. She can only keep a straight face for a minute before cracking up. I laugh along with her.
When we get to the top of the line, I glide through the metal detectors with ease. Sam, on the other hand, had to go through a more thorough search on account of her belly button piercing. I waited up out of instinct.
The guard was running the smaller metal detector across her body, but paused on her boobs. It took him a moment or two to realize he was staring at them and finished his search. Now, in this situation, any other girl would have crossed her arms and blushed, but Sam decided it would be more fun to jut out her chest and let him examine her boobs. When she was told she could leave, she nodded, grabbed her bag and stuck her left palm in the direction of the guard. "I'm glad you enjoyed the show…" she peered at his name tag, "Ron. But that'll be forty bucks. Oh and an extra twenty if you think you'll stare at my ass as I leave." She scoffed but didn't take her eyes off the guard. He finally shied away and returned to checking student IDs.
Everyone, including myself, laughed at her bluntness. Even some teachers giggled into their coffee cups. She strutted towards me and asked me what I was painting for the art project Mrs. Youngman assigned yesterday.
"Weren't you even slightly embarrassed that he was checking you out? Even Carly would have blushed a little."
"Haha no. Carly would have dropped to her knees and offered to suck him off. But why should I be embarrassed? He was the douche bag. He should be blushing. Not me." Can't argue with that logic.
"I'll see you in Chemistry." I wave and headed toward my first period class.
I would consider myself to be good looking.
Not gorgeous, but good looking.
I have long blonde hair that curls into large ringlets and looks remarkable in a high ponytail. I have naturally tanned skin, long legs and the shortest torso that has ever walked planet Earth. My boobs are, in my opinion, perfect boobs. They are a 34C, not too big, not too small.
Now my fashion sense leaves something to be desired, I suppose. Everyday I can be counted on wearing something comfortable as opposed to "trendy." I shop at PINK like it's my job, and have more sweatpants and sweatshirts than I do anything else. I wear tee shirts from Pac Sun, Hollister, and Model's. Well, fuck style.
And I'm athletic. I'm the only junior to make captain in Volleyball. And I played varsity all four years. I made all-county and already have colleges watching me.
And what about my personality? I guess I can be a little inappropriate and un-lady like. And maybe I eat a lot. And I suppose I could strive to be a little bit more polite. But, I have a sense of humor and I love to laugh. I would say I'm enjoyable to be around.
So why is Freddie not in love with me?
The chemistry has been there. I see it. And you know what? I'm not the only fucking one. People are constantly asking me when Freddie's going to make a move. And you know what; I'm fucking tired of it.
Yep, I'm tired of it. So, next chance we are alone; I'm going to seduce him. Yes, it's decided. And if he takes the bait, I'll fuck him. I'll fucking fuck him. Because if there is one thing I can't stand, it's tension. And it's starting to brim over.
"Sam! Are you paying attention?" Mrs. Gregg calls from the front of her classroom. It's only then I realize that I haven't heard a thing she has said the entire forty minutes I've been here. Spanish is stupid.
"No," I answer honestly. What's the point of lying?
"Well, then you might have trouble on tomorrow's quiz." She put her hand on her hip and smiled a smug smile. God, she's a bitch.
"I might. Or since this is such an easy class, I might scrape by on simply common sense and no knowledge on the language whatsoever. Or, I might already have a complete understanding of it, and you have no idea," I look her in the eye, "Just some things to consider."
"Sam, por favor lo acompaña a la oficina del director." She smiled smugly. Does she think I'm retarded?
"¡Por supuesto, algo para usted!" I say back and secretly joy over the shocked look on her face. I pick up my Victoria's Secret bag and head out the door.
I mosey my way to the office. On my way, I'm flipping through my Spanish notebook. When I come to the 'notes' of today, I find a sketch, one I don't even remember doing. I have a very strange habit. Whenever I day dream, my hands automatically draw whatever is coming to my mind, it's a reflex. And often, I don't even realize I'm doing it. Sometimes it's awesome, when you find a cool looking picture of a shark or something. But, it sucks as well. Especially, when your teacher sees you drawing a lovely outline of her fucking a grizzly bear while handcuffed to a gas station attendant on fire. True story.
But today's drawing wasn't so vulgar. It was actually pretty good. It was a drawing of the inside of my Chevy. On the front seat, there was a pair of Nikes and a pair of jeans. I then recognized my Hollister tee shirt on the dash. I shrugged and threw my notebook in my bag and went along my way.
"SAM!!" I hesitated turning around, contemplating the consequences of ignoring the call versus suffering through the conversation. I end up turning around.
"Hi, Carly. What's up?" I say.
"Listen, can you give Freddie a ride home today? You have volleyball after school, so you'll be here anyway," She wraps her arm around me and kisses my cheeks, "You're awesome! Later," she runs away pulling her phone from her back pocket. God, what happened to her?
But, hey, I get some time alone with Freddie. This will be used to my advantage.
To: Freddie; From: Sam
11/1/2011 9:44:33 AM
Looks like I'm driving you home today, Benson.
To: Sam; From: Freddie
11/1/2011 9:45:10 AM
Oh, are you? Carly dumped me on you?
To: Freddie; From: Sam
11/1/2011 9:45:55 AM
Little hard on ourselves, aren't we? But yes, I have received the burden.
To: Sam; From: Freddie
11/1/2011 9:46:21 AM
Poor you. : P
To: Freddie; From: Sam
11/1/2011 9:46:54 AM
Woe is me… (: Where should I Be picking you up?
To: Sam; From: Freddie
11/1/2011 9:47:19 AM
North side of the school. At like fourish.
To: Freddie; From: Sam
11/1/2011 9:47:46 AM
Sounds like a plan.
I arrive at Principal Franklin's office. Over the years, he and I have become kind of close. Well, as close as a principal and a 'delinquent' can get. But, even he agrees that I am not a delinquent. His assessment is 'I have a problem with assuming my teachers are over using their authority and acting upon it quickly'. I don't see that as a problem. I maybe a smart ass, but notice the word 'smart.'
"Morning, Mr. Franklin," I step inside and plop down on the chair facing his desk.
"Morning, Sam," He turns to me, "What did you do?"
"I told my Spanish teacher off," I answer simply.
"She was being a bitch," Principal Franklin has tried and failed to stop my cursing and found it to be a lost cause. He told me in confidence that he honestly didn't care, so if it enhances my story, I'll swear.
"What did she say?"
"That I'll fail the quiz, if I didn't pay attention,"
"Sam, you will fail if you don't pay attention" He leans forward on his desk.
"It was the way she said it," I answer weakly. I shrug.
"I believe you, Sam. But maybe you should start paying attention,"
"I don't have to. I'm almost fluent," I lean back, "¿El Sr. Franklin, yo no estaré recibiendo una detención para mi contratiempo secundario, corrige? Pienso que tal castigo sería dura dada la circunstancia."
"Adios, Sam" He chuckles, "you can wait in the office until class is over. You have like two minutes,"
"Yes, sir," I get up and pick my bag up off the floor.
"Oh… and Sam, it was refreshing to hear about you're shenanigans today, I was almost beginning to miss them," he smiles and returns to his computer screen.
"Yeah, I've been good so far this year. But, no worries, I'll duct tape a teacher to the flag pole, just for you." I click my tongue and head out.
I sit in the chair for about two minutes and the bell rings. I head to my locker and dial the combination in my head 42…1…16. I pull out my Chemistry book, my Chemistry notebook, and Animal Farm. I head to the English wing. English is recently my favorite course. And, well, I can thank Freddie for that one. When we made that bet, about two years ago, that I had to read a full book, how unappealing that sounded then, in three days, it started a streak. After that, reading became not only pleasant, but a full-fledged hobby. I spend a majority of allowance on books. I love George Orwell, David Sedaris, and James Patterson. My only flaw with English is, I don't read anything that doesn't interest me.
Luckily, Mr. Thomas, has assigned Animal Farm for this marking period. We are supposed to be on chapter 4, but I finished it last night. Oh well. I'll read Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim. Mr. T won't mind.
By the middle of the period, I put it down and decided to nap. I fold my arms across my desk and rest my head into them. I stay like this until the end of the period, a light sleep, but just enough to let my mind wander.