IKeep Holdin' On
The cold, sharp wind stung me as I kept hold of the edge of Bushwell Plaza, outside apartment 8C. The ache in my arms grew as I struggled to hold the weight of two individuals, myself and Sam. You're probably wondering what got us into this mess in the first place. Well, I'll tell you.
It was three in the morning when I awoke to the sound of Sam's whispery voice.
"Get up, Fredwardo!" she hissed, straddling me. I blushed a magenta color. Of course she had to come in here when I wore only a white undershirt and boxers.
"Why are you here?!" I whisper-yelled back. Is whisper-yelling even possible? I think so.
"It's time for Wake up Spencer." Her tone now had less edge to it. I sat up, pushing Sam off my body, and rubbed my eyes, clearing my vision. I should've remembered to set an alarm. I also should've figured Sam would look at me weird when I slipped my glasses on. My contacts weren't coming for another three days.
"Let's go, Four Eyes," she laughed, paying no attention whatsoever to my attire.
We slunk down the stairs, past my mom, out the apartment door, and across the hall to the Shay residence. I slowly opened the door and was surprised to see Spencer awake, watching some show about noodles and their tendency to stick. I silently shut the door.
Sarcastically, I said, "Well, I guess we can't do Wake up Spencer tonight. Too bad. Darn." I made my way back up the stairs to my room, Sam following me the whole way. When I reached my destination, I turned to her.
"You can go now."
"Fine, fine. Whatever." She began to open my bedroom window, sticking one leg out.
"Sam! What are you doing?!" I whisper-yelled again. I have decided that, yes, whisper-yelling is an actual term.
"I'm leaving," she said, nonchalantly.
"Why don't you go through the front door?"
"'Cause I'll end up waking Lewbert and he'll call the cops on me again." She continued putting her body through my window.
Again? Well, it is Sam. Figures. "Okay. But be careful."
"Don't be such a worry wart."
She cautiously made her way to the edge of the building. I sat down on my bed, holding my breath. Suddenly, a shriek pierced the night. I raced to the window and looked out. Sam held on to the edge for dear life, fear written on her face.
"Sam!" I quickly climbed out the window and reached out to her. "Take my hand!"
She did as she was told, but ended up pulling me over the edge. Holding her up, I barely caught a hold in the wall. I held on to both her and the ledge as if life depended on it. Oh wait. Life DID depend on it.
So there I was, hanging from the ledge, holding on to Sam. The cold, sharp air stung me as I kept hold of the edge of Bushwell Plaza, outside apartment 8C. The ache in my arms grew as I struggled to hold the weight of two individuals, myself and Sam. I could feel myself loosing my hold quickly. I readjusted my grip, which really didn't help much. Sam let out a whimper.
"You're gonna be fine." Of course, I was trying to reassure her, but moreso, myself. "Freddie," Sam said softly.
"Please don't drop me." I could see the sincerity in her eyes. I had to save us. With the rest of my strength (which wasn't much), I pulled us up the wall. Inch by inch, I concentrated as hard as I could. I couldn't let her get hurt. I pulled myself up on the ledge and wrapped my leg around my desk leg. With both hands, I hoisted Sam up and through the window. She hugged me so tightly I couldn't breathe.
But I didn't care. She was safe.
When she finally let go of me, an awkward silence filled the room. I looked everywhere but her, and it seemed she was doing the same. After about five minutes, Sam flicked me in the head.
"See ya tomorrow, dork."
And with a flick of her hair, she left the room.
I fell back on my bed, letting all the stress go. To no one in particular, I said, "I need a Fat Cake."
And for once, I wasn't afraid to sound like Sam.