The Book of Plot Twists

An Unforgettable Dream

"It's like clockwork," Miranda said. "Everyday at the same time, Cali goes to the bathroom to check her makeup and call her brother, leaving her bag in the care of me."

"Why doesn't she ever take her bag?" James asked her.

Miranda shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe she just doesn't like carrying things."

"This is going to be the best April Fools prank ever!" James declared, throwing his head back in laughter.

Cali returned and Miranda and James immediately slipped back into their previous conversation while Samson just sat there listening to them go on about prom.

Samson was James's best friend, but that was before they met the girls. Now, it was almost like he didn't exist.

One day, they'll know me. One day, they'll hear me. One day, they'll see me, he told himself. It was the only phrase that kept him from truly losing his mind.

As usual, the class bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. The three friends got up to return to Spanish class, but Samson stayed. Usually, he walked with them and tried to squeeze his way into their conversation. Today, he wouldn't. He refused. All it ever did was reveal to him just how invisible he actually was.

Instead, he headed off towards the library. There was a little nook in-between the historical-fiction shelves and the autobiography shelves that fit him perfectly. He had gone there many times before to scare James or to ditch class, but never has he stayed there for long periods of time.

Today, that would change.

If the world didn't want him, then he didn't want the world. He wanted to hide there until the school closed and all the janitors went home. Then, he wanted to go and hang himself in the middle of the cafeteria for everyone to see.

He entered the library, smiled at the librarian, and walked to the back of the room. The only spot in the library that was not visible from the circulation desk. Quickly and quietly, Samson crawled into the cozy little spot that only he had known about.

After all, he was the only student that ever bothered to come back here. Most of the others stayed up front towards the magazines and dystopian society novels. No one ever wanted to read historical fanfiction like he had. That's why he picked this spot to hide.

I'm gonna be here awhile. Might as well get some rest, Samson thought. He heard the late bell ring and closed his eyes.

***

Snickering and hushed whispers filled Samson's ears and slowly drew him out of sleep.

"Huh?" He barely muttered it before laughter erupted and drowned out any chance of silence.

James, Cali, and Miranda were standing just outside of the nook. Other classmates that ignored Samson were crowded around behind them, pointing and laughing at the boy in the wall.

"What's so funny?" Samson demanded.

Horrifyingly, he realized that those words were the first he'd said in months. His voice sounded weak and childlike. Nothing like the voice of a fifteen-year-old soccer player that he was. This only increased the laughter.

James reached his hand down and yanked out his former best friend. "What is wrong with you, dude?"

Confused, Samson looked down to find himself without pants.

"Oh no," he said before turning and storming out of the library.

He wanted to go towards the lunchroom but suddenly couldn't remember how. It was as if his brain had instantly been erased of everything that he had learned about the school over the two years he'd been there.

Where do I go?

Left. Something told him to go left.

He turned left and found himself face-to-face with the thing that frightened him most.

Trevor Marisol.

"Where do you think you're going?" Trevor spat.

Samson froze in fear. Trevor was dead. He drowned in the Lynches River two summers ago. There was no possible way he could be here.

And yet...

"Tr-Trevor?" He could barely say the name.

The dead boy smiled in the sinister way he always had. His face twisted, his nostrils flared out like Chinese hand fans, and his eyes turned a black so dark that it felt like empty nothingness just looking into them.
It was the most terrifying thing Samson had ever seen.

"I came back for you," Trevor announced.

Samson didn't know whether to run or let the boy take him. He was going to go with Trevor later anyways, so why not go now?

"Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you? Oh, I could never hurt you," Trevor stated.

Samson didn't respond. He just stood there and let fate do the rest. Ultimately, it was what he was best at.

Trevor just snickered. "You're the same old Sammy. You don't have a strong bone in your body, do you? You just stand there and let people walk all over you without saying a word. And you know what? If it weren't for you being such a pushover, I'd be alive right now."

Samson had had enough. Finally, he spoke. "My words are of no use to this world. Saying something would not have changed a damn thing!"

Trevor howled with laughter, causing Samson to stumble backwards at the sudden outburst.

"You think you're powerless?" Trevor shouted. "Well, you're not! This world needs someone like you in it! If you hadn't been such a pushover starving for someone to like you, you could have stopped James from holding my head underwater. But you didn't. You just sat there and watched your 'best friend' kill the only person who'd ever truly loved you."

Samson was, once again, speechless. He painfully realized that everything Trevor had said was true. Only one person could have stopped James, and he was that person. Yet, he didn't. He had witnessed his friend murder another and didn't do a thing all because he wanted to share a secret with him. He wanted James to feel like he had to keep Samson because Samson knew the things he did.

And that's why he didn't save Trevor.

It was right then that Samson learned the one thing he always kept himself from believing:

He. Had. Power. He knew what happened to the missing Trevor Marisol. He knew where the body was and who had done it.

If he spoke up, he would be the town hero! Sure, they would mourn the loss of the mean lifeguard that only cared for himself and one other, but then they would be at peace. They would be happy. And finaly, finally, they would see him. Samson. The one who solved the case.

He would have all the friends he could ever want.

"You're right," he told Trevor.

Trevor smiled. "Do you still want to die?" He asked.

Samson shook his head no. If he had a say in it, he was not going to die. At least not anytime soon.

"Good," Trevor said. "I'll be going now; but know that I forgive you and I understand why you didn't stop him. And remember, I still love you. And I'll be waiting for you."

He handed Samson a small box wrapped in tinfoil. Then, he disappeared and Samson woke up.

As he crawled out of the nook, he realized that there was something shiny sitting on the table directly in front of him. When he picked it up, he saw that it was the box handed to him by the boy his friend had killed.

Carefully, Samson removed the tinfoil and opened the little box. There was nothing inside except a crumpled up Polaroid.

Samson fell to the ground, not knowing whether to cry or to laugh. In his hand, he held the thing that James had killed Trevor for:

The photo of him and his cousins girlfriend, Emily, wearing each other's clothing.