The Wild Things COMPLETE

Chapter Four

By eleven o'clock, Mrs. Kleinburg had packed us off to bed. We slept in Sam's room, as usual, me on the floor in my sleeping back and Sam a foot-and-a-half above me in her bed.

Sam's room was a hodge-podge of the person she was and the person her mother thought she should be. The walls were painted a rosy-pink with white baseboards and crown molding. The bed was a four-poster that would have made any princess green with envy. It had a white canopy and pink comforter. There was a white vanity, with a tiny white stool set in front of the oval mirror where Sam could apply her makeup. (Not that I had ever seen Sam wear makeup.)

In contrast to this was a huge chest-of-drawers, set against the far wall, which was dark mahogany and had belonged to her father before the divorce. Atop this monstrosity were Sam's many trophies... baseball, hockey, soccer, and her prized Taekwondo medal. The floor was covered with athletic gear including, to my amazement, a Jockstrap. Two baseball bats leaned in the corner and a signed hockey stick was mounted to the wall over her bed. The other walls were covered in rock'n'roll posters featuring such bands as her beloved AC/DC, Pink Floyd, and Van Halen.

Mrs. Kleinburg wished us a good night and turned out the light after blowing Sam a kiss and ruffling my hair. Everyone ruffled my hair for some reason, but I liked when she did it.

Laying there in the dark I wondered if Sam had decided to go to sleep and forget about the séance. We hadn't spoken about it since the big blow up. The room was quiet and I could hear her steady breathing. Maybe she had already gone to sleep. I closed my eyes.

"Wake up!" Sam was leaning over the edge of her bed shaking me and I realized I had drifted off.

"Wha—," I mumbled.

"Wake up, Brownie," Sam whispered her face inches from my own. "We gotta go!"

Her breath was warm on my face and her mouth was so close to mine that I had the sudden, insane urge to kiss her then but before I could move she jumped up and began to dress.

I watched in amazement as she pulled her nighty (pink and obviously not her choice) over her head revealing blue boxer shorts and a white vest. The tiny bumps on her chest giggled as she hopped on one leg getting into her jeans. Then she put on her t-shirt and looked over at me.

"Come on, Brownie!"

I began to stand up and then crouched low again to hide the tent in my own boxers. Erections were the newest embarrassment in my life, always seeming to appear at the most inopportune moments. Just before the end of school I had been called in front of the class to work a math problem out on the chalkboard and found I had a raging hard-on for no good reason at all. I was entirely fed up with carrying books in front of my crotch in the hallway, although I noticed many other boys in my grade doing the same thing.

Under Sam's watchful eye, I shuffled around on the floor like a demented crab, pulled on my own jeans which helped to somewhat camouflage my shame and sat back down to put on my shirt, socks, and shoes.

"Okay," I said standing with a furtive glance at the front of my pants to ensure the bulge wasn't too noticeable. "Let's go."

Sam crept out of her room and down the hallway silently and I followed. My footsteps seem to thunder on the hardwood floor and she gave me a dirty look. She crept over and pointed down at our feet. She was barefoot and I was surprised to see her small nails were painted with bright red nail polish. I looked at her and smiled stupidly not knowing what she expected.

Sam rolled her eyes, got down on her knees and began untying my laces. She pulled off my right shoe and then my left and handed them to me impatiently, then held her finger up to her lips in the 'shush' sign.