Right This Way

Chapter 4: Sam

Dedicated to @josclifford, I don't know you, but, Hey! Thanks for following me!

Samantha

Monday morning couldn’t come soon enough.  Not that I love Spanish first thing, but – well there are two reasons.  One.  To get out of that house.  Yes a girl lives a pretty sad life when going to school is a relief from home – I am THAT girl.  The tension is awful.  And all I can do is be caught between my own grief and sadness over missing my little brother, feeling sad for my mom, who can barely function, and being angry with my dad for paying zero attention to me since Sean died.  My God – it was horrible.  Sean only 10, was hit by a car (a drunk driver) while riding his bicycle home from a friend’s house.  I can’t escape the sound of my mom’s scream when he was pronounced dead at the hospital.  Even worse than that is the fact that I know my parents would be happier if it had been me.  It is a thought I can never dismiss.  It follows me around like a dark shadow and when I think about it for too long I bring myself to tears.  It has been a year and a half – I will never escape this.  But, and on to my second reason – first period is Spanish – again, not that I love Spanish (it comes pretty easy to me), but guy of my dreams sits next to me.  He is amazing.  With bronze skin, light blond hair down to his shoulders and thin athletic build, he is quite perfect.  He is not arrogant – not like some of the other guys here.  Austin – that’s his name, is almost uncomfortable around others – it is as if he has no idea how hot he is.  I think of any excuse to talk to him.   

Speaking of which; opportunity has just knocked.  “Las Olas” I say in response to his question.  He looks at me as though I am from another planet – like I am different, like I don’t belong, which I hate, but oddly a familiar.  “Pardon me?”, he replies.  I explain that is how you say ‘the waves’ in Spanish.  What he says next explains his response.  “Did I say that out loud?”, he says, looking a bit surprised.  This seems like a completely innocuous response – but as he says it, I feel the weight of a thousand walls come tumbling down & and the feeling of a knife stabbing me in the gut – of course he wasn’t talking to me.  In my sadness, all I can reply is “yes”.  He mumbles something and the conversation is lost – opportunity slipped away – I don’t know when I will get another one.

“No in la cocina”, I follow along with the class.  I know the chapter.  The verse is easy, but Austin seems lost.  Perhaps in thoughts of me.  And him.  And a white sandy beach with no one else for miles…

Senor DiSalvo has asked for a volunteer to conjugate the verb esta – I raise my hand.  Again, this is easy.  He calls on me, I complete his simple request – he indicates that I am correct in his unmistakable Italian accent.  I wonder if anyone notices this but me.

Five minutes to the bell.  I am not counting down the minutes because I am looking forward to leaving; because to stay here next to Austin?  I could forever. The thing is Austin never writes down the homework – a detail I almost always comment on, and he responds the same each time.   He pleads, “Sam, please go out with me - just one date.  I will teach you to surf - we can run away to Hawaii together”.  The beautiful thought is interrupted by his actual response - something like can he get it from me in English.  I want to reply that I would give it to him in Mandarin, Vietnamese, or whatever language his sweetness would like.  But I don’t - I just smile, nod and reply “Sure. I’ll see you in English after lunch,” and look away.

The bell rings, our routine begins and is over just as abruptly.  That’s it.  I won’t see him again until English.

We leave the room, as we are exiting the classroom, I am behind Austin.   Senor Disalvo calls something to him – I have no idea what as I am intoxicated by his scent.  It is a delightful combination of sweet sweat and ocean salt – I breathe it in slowly, then faster knowing I won’t get another whiff until the end of the day.  As I head to math, he goes off to history (yes, I have his schedule memorized – and if that makes me a stalker, well I am a card carrying member of the United Stalkers of America).

I am still behind him when he stops for a second – I can’t get around him – the halls are crowded - I breath in more of him– then he dashes off like a bat outta hell.  Oh God, please don’t tell me he could feel me breath in his sexy aroma?  That is it - he thinks I am a freak.  Oh God, I will never have the opportunity to give Austin what he needs (in this case, only the homework assignment) in any language he wants.

Woops – I have come straight on into the most popular guy in school – I don’t think he knows my name.

“Hey Sam”, Halan says – well – hell, I guess I was wrong.

I take a deep breath (quickly as to not emphasize the fact that I need one) and respond…well rather swiftly, if I do say so myself.

“Hello Halan” – wait was that too formal?  Should I have said ‘yo’ or ‘sup’?

“Sam I would like to introduce you to Cayden.  It is her first day here as she just moved from the Midwest”, he continues.  I guess my formal greeting was appropriate.  “Cayden, please meet Sam.  She is a lovely girl and gets very good grades”.  Lovely girl?  What am I a homely early teen from the Victorian Era?  Not hot?  Not sexy?  I wonder if this is how Austin sees me.  And gets good grades?  Is that my high school legacy?  Really - that’s it!  Yikes!  More thought to that later - now I have a conversation to tend to.    At the moment I am looking at a girl who looks scared and lost - yet there is something sweet in those exotic eyes - a kindness - a pleading.  She looks like she is in need of a friend.  Again, quite quickly I might add (despite the fact that the love of my life has discovered my pursuer tendencies, and run as fast as he can off campus, probably never to be seen again,  I am on fire with the conversation), I reply, “It is good to meet you.”  She replies something of the same – I still see the fear in her eyes – although I can’t imagine why – this girl is beautiful.  She could have the world at her fingertips.  I ask her if she would like to eat lunch together – she seems relieved.  We agree to meet up at lunch.

A/N: HEYYYYYYYYYYYY GUYSSSSSSSSSS! What's up?

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