All of Me

Seven

As weeks went by so did Sam. Every time I asked him to hang out, or help with my homework he declined, claiming he was "too busy" or he was helping his mom with odd chores around the house.

It even got to the point where we barely hung out in school.

It made me self conscious to the point where I didn't even want to approach him to ask if I did anything wrong that night.

Sighing, I detoured through the school and walked through the field to get home.

My dad wasn't anywhere in sight, not that I expected him to be. The fridge had little to no food, along with the cupboards which only held a couple cans of beans, and a bag of stale chips.

Frowning, I made my way to my room, grabbing the house phone on the way there.

Sam would help... right?

I dialled his number, my heart beating erratically in my chest as it rang in my ear. I assumed he wouldn't answer after the seventh time, but to my surprise he did.

"Hello?"

My brows furrowed. "Is this Sam?" my voice came out softer and smaller than I expected it to.

"Yeah, whose this?"

My mouth opened, but I didn't find any words to come out. "It's Sam... Sammy."

"Oh..." there was a pause.

"Uhm, I called because I need help... there is no food in the house, and there hasn't been for the last..."

"Sam, I have to go."

The call ended.

"...Sam?" I called into the receiver once more. My throat tightened, and I felt as if I'd just been punched in the chest.

What happened to tell him if I needed him?

What happened to I was his? Did that all change after we had sex?

Was that all he was interested in me for? After all the time we spent together?

"Oh God..." I mumbled to myself, slapping a hand over my mouth as I gagged. Tears pooled in my eyes as a sick sensation filled my stomach.

I stumbled off my bed, nearly falling to the floor if I didn't catch myself on the door. I rushed to the washroom, throwing the door open, and gagging up clear liquid.

"What did I do...?" I sobbed.

For the next half an hour I sat curled near the toilet, resting my head on my knees.

***

The next four days passed, and I skipped school. I didn't have any energy in me to get up and out of bed in the morning, plus I was still feeling under the weather. My stomach aches didn't go away, and every so often I'd vomit up clear liquid. It didn't help with the fact that I'd only eaten two sandwiches my dad had brought home.

Over the weekend I ended up going to see Sara at her shop, and somewhere between the lines she ended up handing me forty dollars along with a couple sandwiches that I could take to school the following week.

She told me if she ever needed anything that Patrick and herself were there for me. They had more than enough funds for their baby along the way, and the would never tell me no if I needed help with groceries. In addition she said that she would love to hire me, but the shop just wasn't busy enough just yet.

By Monday I was feeling as good as I would ever get. I bought as much food as I could with the money Sara gave, which filled up a good portion of the fridge, but also fill up a shelf or two in the cupboards. I still hadn't received any calls or visits from Sam, so I figured I'd ask him today what happened... what I did wrong.