Hey Jude | Four [Sam]
As a whole, school was not quite the experience for Sam Winchester as it was for Dean Winchester. While everyone loved and practically worshipped the older of the two Winchester boys, the younger they went out of their way to treat exactly the opposite.
Ever since he'd been in elementary school, Sam had been no stranger to gangs jumping him on the playground, getting his things stolen when he used the bathroom during class, having various unsavory items placed in his locker, and a whole list of other things that he could never complete even if he tried to write it down.
No one told Dean how they treated Sam. Why would they? They knew how much Dean loved his little brother. He bragged about him to anyone who would listen - or pretend to anyway - and, while they smiled and nodded and pretended that they cared about what Dean was saying, this was the one bit of information from the Prince of the High School that went in one ear of the student body and out the other.
Though the physical abuse was horrible and not fun to deal with, Sam was used to it. He got it at home, too, and, avoiding it at school, though harder, was doable, and even if he couldn't, it wasn't like this was anything new for him.
It was the people that pretended to be nice to him and whispered behind his back that were the worst.
He didn't know who to trust. He didn't know who wanted to be his friend and who was just pretending and who had been dared to try to befriend the weird, ugly, stupid younger Winchester.
Sam was none of these things, of course. He got better grades than his older brother. He was quiet and kept mostly to himself, doing exactly what everyone else did, just without speaking. And the few girls who did look at Sam more than the one time their friends pointed him out as the kid no one likes, kept it to themselves. Anyone who associated with Sam got the same treatment he did. Freaks flocked together, right? And so Sam was friendless, unhappy, and always waiting for the school day to end so he could go sit in his room and do his homework.
Home wasn't much better than school. Not by a long shot. Especially not with the monster that visited him on the nights Dean went to fights. But there were stretches of silence and times when Sam was alone or in only Dean's company rather than the company of his friends or the rest of the school, and though these moments were often brief and sometimes few and far between, Sam would take a life locked in his room over the constant harassment he received at the hands of his peers any day of the week.
The worst time of day was lunch.
At least in the classrooms, there was some supervision. Kids didn't dare bully Sam too much in front of teachers. Sure, they'd throw spitballs when their teacher's back was turned or get to class early and put something gross on his seat or desktop or write something rude on it, but they didn't dare do anything drastic. They didn't dare cuff him upside the head, drag him into the bathroom to dunk his head in the toilet, or pull his pants down in front of everyone during class.
At lunch, it was different.
Supervision was minimal and all of those things had happened to Sam during his lunch hours and more. The most common occurrence was for one of the other students to run into him, trip him, or tip his tray over after he'd paid for it in line, anything to make his food go splattering all over the floor. They knew the Winchesters weren't well off and Sam couldn't afford to get himself another tray of food. They knew Sam was too shy to tell the lunch ladies what had happened and even if he did, there was no guarantee they'd believe him or let him get another lunch free. So the days this happened, he had to go hungry, and, though Dean worked hard to keep at least something edible in their refrigerator just in case of emergencies, there was always the chance his brother wouldn't have gotten enough money for food at his last fight, and Sam wouldn't be able to eat at all that day.
The hallways were similar to the lunch room. Unsupervised, anything could happen, but the time between classes was short enough that the most that usually happened was Sam would get tripped and his books would go flying all across the hall, making him late or almost late for class. This he could deal with. But he'd give just about anything to be able to take a lunch from home and eat with the older kids outside.
The bell for the end of fifth period rang and Sam let out a heavy sigh.
He gathered up his books as slowly as he could manage. If he was the last kid left in the classroom, there was less of a chance that someone would try to trip him on his way out. It wasn't until there were only a couple girls, whispering to each other behind their hands, still in the room, that he hurried out.
Just as he had in the classroom, he took his time at his locker, putting his books away slowly and carefully, trying to take up as much time as possible. He was hungry, but the fewer people there were in line, the more likely he'd be able to eat lunch today.
Finally, when he couldn't linger in the hall any longer without it looking like he was stalling, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and headed to the lunchroom, keeping his head down. Sometimes if he made himself smaller, no one noticed him. He was short and skinny and wore clothes too big for him. It was hard to notice Sam Winchester unless you were looking for him, which, unfortunately, some people were.
"Where do you think you're going, Sammy?"
Sam didn't dare look over his shoulder to see who was jeering at him, using the nickname his brother had given him and used around everyone, no matter who they were. Well, why wouldn't he? He didn't know how everyone enjoyed tormenting his younger brother and Sam wasn't about to be the one to tell him. Dean had looked nearly heartbroken the one time he'd mentioned he didn't really have any friends.
Though his pace to the cafeteria quickened, he knew it didn't matter. There were more of them than there were of him and, though he was able to walk through the doors of the cafeteria unharmed, that didn't mean he would remain so once inside.
He tried to go through the line slowly, lingering back and letting more and more people get ahead of him as though he were still trying to choose what to eat. The truth was Sam didn't care. He'd learned long ago not to be picky about what he put in his stomach. If he were, he might not get anything in his stomach at all. That being said, he did prefer a vegetarian diet in comparison with the carnivorous one Dean and every other boy his age seemed to enjoy.
Finally having picked out a salad that was already put together and packaged, Sam grabbed a fork and a packet of ranch dressing before going to pay for his lunch at one of the open registers. The lady barely looked at him as he typed in his lunch number. He didn't look at her once.
It was as he was turning from the woman, his lunch secured firmly in his fingers, it happened. He took a step and then he was falling. He hit the floor hard, rattling his teeth and jarring his entire being. He lay on the linoleum tiles for a moment, watching his salad skid across the cafeteria floor, toppled over. It didn't open. It was taped shut. Thank God for little miracles. But there was no guarantee he would get to it before his assailants had.
Shaking himself, Sam staggered to his feet, amid the laughter of other students. He grabbed his fork and packet of ranch dressing, which he'd also dropped and made a dive for the salad before the boy who'd tripped him had a chance to close his own fingers around it.
The boy towered over him. Sam didn't look up into his face. He wished he had the courage to, to look up at him and tell him what he really thought about him. Or glare at the very least.
"What'd you do that for, Gabriel?"
The voice made Sam whirl around and the few titters still going around him quiet.
Jess was standing there, her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed into angry green slits. Her hair was wild around her and looked more like cloud mass that was going to crackle with thunder than the soft golden waves it had this morning on the bus.
People were staring at her in shock. Including Sam.
"Oh, c'mon, Jess," the boy named, Gabriel, said, sounding half-annoyed, half-joking. "If it wasn't me, it would've been somebody else."
"It shouldn't be anybody," Jess replied. "And, for the record, it usually is you."
Sam swallowed, pressing his lips into a thin line to keep himself from speaking. Now that she mentioned it, the name Gabriel sounded familiar. So did the boy's voice and stature. He never looked into the faces of his bullies. If he kept them faceless, it was a little easier to deal with. It was like they were demons or maybe ghosts, like the one in the bedroom at the end of the hall at home. As bad as it sounded, if he tried to think of them as something other than human, it made their actions easier to justify.
"Come on, Sam," Jess said, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You can come sit with me."
Wordlessly, Sam walked away from Gabriel, still clutching his salad, reeling from what just happened. No one had ever stood up for him before. Not even Jess. She'd never joined in the teasing, but she'd never tried to stop it either. He didn't blame her for that. Anyone who did, usually ended up getting the same treatment, but Jess seemed to hold some sway over his bullies that he was unaware of.
"I'm sorry about him," she said, tossing her hair back from her face as she sat down at the lunch table she'd led Sam to. He noticed people were continually turning to look at them. He busied himself with opening his salad and starting to eat. "I'm also sorry I haven't done anything about him before."
He looked up. Jess was looking at him. Her green eyes were sad. They were always sad in one way or another, but right now they looked especially sorrowful, though the word he would've used was guilty.
"I should've stood up for you before," she said softly, stabbing at the food on her plate. She'd gotten the main course of the day - macaroni and cheese with a side of green beans and a brownie for dessert. "People are just so mean and I don't have any excuse. People won't bother me. I don't know why. But I know that's why other people don't stand up for you. They get bullied back. But I don't, so I don't have any excuse. Maybe I'm just a coward."
Sam shook his head.
Jess looked up at him, smiling wryly. "You don't think so?"
Sam shook his head again.
"Well, I'm glad you think I'm better than I actually am," she replied.
The smile she gave him was a genuine one. It made his heart feel lighter and brought a small smile to his own lips.
They were quiet for a little bit, eating in companionable silence, until Jess broke it by saying, "Why don't you talk very much?"
He swallowed all of what was in his mouth from the surprise of the question.
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask. It's none of my business and I guess that's a stupid question to ask someone who doesn't talk. Why would you expect them to tell you?" She sighed and Sam paused in stabbing his salad.
"No one listens to what I have to say."
Jess looked up in surprise that he'd answered her, but after a moment nodded. "No, I guess they don't, do they?" she replied softly. "I probably wouldn't talk much either if that's how everyone made me feel. Does your brother make you feel that way, too?"
Sam shrugged one shoulder. "Only at school, but I understand it."
"How come?"
He didn't answer. He couldn't tell her everything. She had a monster like his, yes, but what if she thought differently of him if he told her about his? What if she thought differently of him if she knew what living at his house was really like? Dean probably made it sound so perfect. Or maybe he just made it look that way.
Either way, he couldn't tell her the truth. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
The bell rang, signaling the end of their lunch hour.
Jess sighed and looked down at her food. "I wasn't finished yet. Oh well. I'll have a snack when I get home. You can just take yours with you if you put the lid back on."
She did it for him without prompting. Then they both got up and walked out of the cafeteria together. She stayed with him all the way to his locker where he put the rest of his salad into his backpack and grabbed the books he'd need for his last two classes of the day.
"I'd like to eat lunch with you again sometime, Sam," Jess said softly as he was closing his locker, about ready to turn away from her.
He turned back to her. She was staring at her hands. She was digging at something under her nails as though she was trying to find a reason not to look him in the eye, almost as though she was afraid to.
Finally, she did look up. "Would you like to eat lunch with me again tomorrow?"
Sam smiled for the third time that day and nodded.
It was worth it just to see the way she smiled back at him.
"Oh good! I'll meet you here after my fifth period class tomorrow then, okay?"
Sam nodded again and she skipped away down the hall, swallowed up by the crowd.
It didn't matter that he had two more classes and that those classes were his least favorite. It didn't matter that in those classes, he'd probably get picked on or bullied in some way. It didn't matter that everyone at school bullied him, even. In fact, in that moment, it didn't even matter that there was a monster that lived in his house wearing the skin of his father or a ghost of the mother he'd never met in the master bedroom.
Jessica Lee Moore wanted to eat lunch with him, Sam Winchester, the short, skinny younger brother of Dean Winchester that no one liked. She could have chosen anyone in the entire school, she could have asked any boy to eat lunch with her. She could have asked his brother, but she hadn't. She'd asked him.
For the first time in his life, Sam felt lucky.
You're no longer the kid no one likes, he thought to himself as he sat down in his sixth period class. Jessica Lee Moore likes you.
And Jessica Lee Moore was the only one that mattered.