Something About Sam

Chapter 7

All I could think when I got to the carnival was, holy shit Sam is going to kill me.

It's not like I lied to him. Blue Falls really is a small town. 5,000, maybe 6,000 people at the most.

This crowd had surpassed the term small by about 10,000 people.

You could barely see the freshly cut grass of the Henderson's farmland that peaked out from underneath everyone's feet. Already, trash and flyers littered the ground we walked on. People were everywhere. The line to get onto the property was a mile long. Cars were parked even further back than that.

Marley and I were given these crude pieces of computer paper with our names and VIP written on them, verified with my dad's signature. He had thrown them at me this morning before he and Sam left for the day. They weren't anything nice to look at, but hey, we were able to skip the lines.

When we got inside, my best friend disappeared to find her boyfriend Keith, who happened to have arrived early enough to avoid the crowd that had accumulated by noon (as per Marley's advice.) I grabbed two hot dogs from a food truck, and headed for the table Sam was busy signing autographs at. Despite the Ferris wheel, fair games, and the various eatery's, the entire population seemed to be accumulating around the pop star.

The line to see Sam was shorter, but it was wild. It looked like something out of a movie. Girls were pushing one another for spots in line, arguing about who knew Sam best (which technically was none of them, considering they hadn't even met him yet), and their favorite Sam Ford songs and performances ("The song My Girl is about his little sister. Isn't that to die for?").

Taking a deep breath, I circumvented the growing mass to get to Sam, only having to push past a few people once I reached him. The table he was seated at just held himself. A woman in a tailored business suit stood tall behind him, looking very important. Two burly security officers flanked him as well, painfully reminding me that the boy I had become such good friends with was, in fact, the most sought after 21-year-old in the modern world.

Sam was deeply focused on the conversation he was having with a fan, his fingers playing with the ends of his brown waves as he smiled at her. I noticed he was wearing one of my shirts again. As soon as the now crying girl departed, I put down the hotdog in front of him. "Hungry?"

He had been looking down at another autograph he was writing. "Sorry love, I'm not supposed to take anything from you. Security protocol and all that." It was when he looked up that he realized I wasn't some psycho fangirl trying to fill him with a hotdog love potion. A wave of relief washed over his face as he grinned.

"Taite, you are my hero." He bit into his lunch aggressively, still signing white slips of paper and passing them off to the people behind me. He swallowed, then looked at me again. This time, his mouth formed a hard line, his eyes narrowing. "Five thousand people, Taite? You said five thousand people! This is three times that!"

I leaned forward on the table with a grimace. "I know, this is insane," I paused taking a look around me. A teenage boy behind me gave me a hard, long stare. I turned back to Sam, trying to keep myself from laughing at how serious everyone was. "Blue Falls is around five thousand people; I wasn't lying to you. Sam, you've attracted, like, half of Virginia."

His face went red at my comment, but he busied himself with signing another autograph, eager fans ignoring my conversation with their idol.

"Hey!" The annoyed boy from earlier was next to me now. He was giving me a once over. "If you aren't here for an autograph, get the hell off the line!"

Sam laughed at this. I rolled my eyes, pulling the rolled up piece of "VIP" paper from my back pocket. I tossed it down at Sam, "Sign this to shut the kid up." I added a "please" as a quiet afterthought.

He smirked at me with an eye roll but began scribbling something on the back of the paper anyway. He took another bite of the hotdog, handing the piece of paper back to me.

"I'll come back to get you when it's time to perform," I told him. He nodded. I squeezed his hand tightly, then turned around and left the table, Sam quickly disappearing behind the heads of his fans.

Ducking behind one of the food trucks, I opened the piece of paper I had given Sam to autograph. He had folded it up into a small square. His handwriting was small, slanted, and very professional.

Jefferson—

Since when can you become best friends with someone in 4 days?

With love

Sammy

I folded the paper back up into the tiny square Sam had made and shoved it in my front pocket.

I couldn't keep a smile off my face the rest of the day.

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After Sam performed (an amazing, solo, acoustic, simple 5-song performance that had the entire crowd awestruck) Marley, Sarah, Keith, Troy and I made a beeline for the side of the stage Sam was exiting. We pushed our way up to the front of flimsy, rented metal gates that cut Sam off from the rest of the world. We caught him just as he was walking by us, signing autographs and taking photos as he went.

He waved at us, smiling, then turned towards the security officer who was tailing him. "Can I bring a few people with me back to the tent?"

My dad had rented a tent for Sam and his family and his staff. It was cheaper than a trailer, which Sam had refused, and it was nice to have a place for him to go where he wouldn't be swamped with screaming teenagers.

The security guard shook his head no. Sam's response was to pout at him, reach for my hand and grab it. "How about just one?"

The man rolled his eyes but motioned for me to follow him. Sam grinned. I hopped over the fence, turning back towards my sister and Marley, both of whom were not pleased with me.

"Later losers!"

Sarah was the only one who grinned.

I followed Sam back towards the tent, throwing my arm around his shoulders and congratulating him on an amazing performance. The Ford family and a few people I didn't recognize greeted us—Sam, really—with hugs.

"Hun, you were amazing," Mrs. Ford kissed him on the head.

"Yeah," I agreed. "I don't know why the hell you were so nervous, Sam. You're a natural on the stage."

"Well he's been battling laryngitis," Mrs. Ford began. Sam interrupted her with a curt, "Mum, stop," but she ignored him. "And he's been on vocal rest for a week and a half now, so we were all a little nervous for the performance. Especially since it meant so much to your dad, Taite."

"Vocal rest." I grabbed Sam's shoulder, turning him towards me. His cheeks were flaming red. He avoiding looking me in the eyes. "You were on vocal rest? And you didn't tell us?"

Mrs. Ford gasped. "Samuel Ford!"

Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, turning to face his now fuming mother. "What was I supposed to do, mum? They would have thought I was a right pretentious prick, arriving at their home and telling them, 'sorry I can't talk to you,' like I'm some bloody celebrity."

"You are a bloody celebrity!" His mother's comment made Sam groan.

"You don't get it," he told her, shaking his head. "Whatever. There's no need to have a row. Everything went smoothly."

Still, Mrs. Ford crossed her arms over her chest looking very displeased.

"Well," I put my arm back around Sam's shoulder. "You did great, Sam. Let's go get burgers to celebrate."

I didn't have to tell him twice. Ignoring his mother's scolding, he grabbed a hoodie from the back of a chair, took my hand, and ran out of there just as the important looking woman in the business suit entered the tent. With a small smirk, she let us go.

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