4. I saw a spider, I didn't scream. Cos I can belch the alphabet, just double double dare me....I don't wanna be one of the boys. One of your guys. I just wanna be one of the girls, pretty in pearls, not one of the boys.
Samantha Puckett is pretty. She is very aware she has a power over the opposite sex, but more than often she uses that power to exert physical pain. She can't help it, it is all she knows. When she sees a boy she likes she immediately tries to impress him with burping contests, rally races and spitting competitions. So that's exactly what she did with Justin West. He was cute in the oh so conventional, dreamy eyed, floppy hair, skinny jeans kinda way. (Thinking back now Sam realises the boy is more than likely gay). She messed with him for weeks – putting off milk in his locker, challenging him to races, punching his arm ridiculous amounts until he could no longer feel it and then the time came. Sam decided she was going to ask him out. She gathered all the bravery she could muster, put on her favourite pair of baggy jeans and Guns n Roses t-shirt, marched right up to him and asked. Her request was met with much laughter from his friends and awkward silence from Justin. She remembers the scene vividly – how he leaned down as if to save her from the already embarrassing situation and told her he thought she was cool but in the guy way. She remembers air getting caught in her throat and her eyes prickling. Sam responded the only way she knew. She kneed him in his groin and walked away.
So that's how she got here, sitting on lawn of her garden, knees to her chest, picking at blades of grass, trying to think of anything else but Justin West. She doesn't like the feeling in her stomach; it's not something she's used to.
"Sup Puckett," a voice comes, a body shadowing over her.
"What do you want Dork?" she snaps, still staring at the grass.
"My Math book back," Fredward Benson states plainly, "You took it from my locker. Carly told me. And I need it for homework."
"I used it for Sniffles."
"Sniffles? Oh god Sam did you put snot all over it?"
"No. Sniffles, she neighbours cat. She's always breaking in through the kitchen window and pooping all over the floor. I used the pages of your book so it was easier to clear up."
"Aw Sam!" he says, exasperated, "What the hell? You really do only think of yourself don't you? Why didn't you just clean it up with your clothes, they've always got crap on them anyway!"
That did it. She stands up and he immediately flinches, throwing his arms up to protect his face. She pulls one punch after the other to his torso until he's on the ground crying mercy.
"Why are you boys all the same huh?" she yells, "You like girls who are all pretty and dress in pink with clean hair and hands! What the hell is that about? Are they fun to hang out with? Can they spit one metre from where they stand? Can they wrestle? Huh?"
"Whoa whoa Sam!" she quickly scrambles to his feet, fending her off by catching her wrists in a vice like grip. "Sam!" With that she knees him quickly and he bends over, writhing in pain. She feels sorry for him for a minute, but only a minute mind you. He kinda had it coming. Boys in general have it coming. She falls back onto the grass, knees back to her chest, chin resting on her arms. She watches as he pulls himself over beside her, still gripping his private parts and wincing as he sits upright.
"Ok. I'm pretty sure I didn't deserve that," he states, groaning a little.
"Oh really? I'm pretty sure you did," she barks, chewing on the sleeve a little.
"What the hells wrong?" he asks, his tone abrasive.
"Boys! I mean I don't get you. Why would you mess about with someone, race them, engage in stupid orange throwing fights, if you don't like them!"
"Erm....I'm pretty sure we haven't done any of that stuff lately."
"Not you dickwad. I mean boys in general. Why do you like pretty girls?"
"I don't," he says, his voice a little odd. She glowers at him.
"Carly?" she reminds him, her eyebrow cocked.
"Yeah well, I don't like Carly cos she's girly or anything. I like Carly cos she's Carly."
"But what makes her Carly? Does she punch you? Kick you? Throw muffins at you?"
"Eh...no. But that's cos Carly's a nice person."
His feeble attempt at a joke doesn't wash well, and Sam looks totally unimpressed. Her lower lip pouts out in a way that makes Freddie want to just reach out and touch it. He visibly shakes it off, and Sam notices.
"You got ticks again Benson?"
"Ok Sam, who's pissed you off?" he asks. He doesn't want to talk in rhyme anymore. This girl takes a lot out of him. Probably, including his ability to have children at some point in the future.
"No one," she mumbles, tracing circles in the grass with her finger, "Someone...Justin."
"Oh," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper, "You talked to Carly about it?"
"She's tutoring tonight."
An awkward silence fills the space between them. Freddie doesn't know how to talk about boys with Sam. They've never had that kind of relationship, and besides - he doesn't think he'd like to talk about her boy issues anyway. For a reason he can't pinpoint, he feels weird about it.
"It's cool Fredina," she sighs, "Just go."
He does as she says, standing albeit awkwardly from the searing pain in his groin, but before he walks away something stops him and he turns to look at the blonde sitting in the grass. Her heads down and he notices the wet patches on her sleeves. Freddie Benson doesn't like it when girls cry, even this one.
"So ya know. I wouldn't kiss an ugly girl."
She looks up, her head tilted, curious.
"You are pretty Samantha Puckett, inside and out."
"Aw Benson," she smiles, her tone mockingly sweet, "I think you just made me barf in my mouth a little."
He scoffs, and turns. "Later Puckett."
With that he was gone and for the first time that day Samantha smiles, a blush in her cheeks.