ICCAYR - Part 1
Title: I Can Crack All Your Ribs, But I Can’t Break Your Heart
Name: Green Quarter
Disclaimer: The characters of Popular do not belong to me, no infringement intended.
Fandom: Popular
Pairing: Sam/Brooke
Rating: 15
Authors Note: This story began as an homage to the play, Cyrano de Bergerac and the works that it inspired, most notably the movie Roxanne and the TV series, My So-called Life. However, it eventually veers away from its inspiration. The title is taken from the song “Mexican Wrestler,” by Jill Sobule. Thanks, as always, to Junebug.
Summary: Sam suffers from a particularly acute case of unrequited love.
Part 1
Sam McPherson entered the school library and searched the faces of her schoolmates until she found the particular face she was looking for. Never one to back away from a difficult situation (especially one of her own making), she purposefully crossed the room and sat down at a library table across from Kennedy High’s slightly tarnished football hero. “I’m your tutor,” she said sullenly to Josh Ford.
Looking up from the current issue of People magazine into the eyes of the one who had done the tarnishing, Josh recoiled in disgust. “You?”
“Yes, me. Principal Krupps forced me to ‘volunteer’ after the whole GPA exposé thing. He thought it a karmic-ly apt punishment.” Crossed arms and a wry delivery did little to disguise Sam’s discomfort. She had known that her latest article in the Zapruder had been ethically borderline, but had done it anyway. Just one more instance of her raging against the Kennedy machine, consequences be damned.
“What did I do to deserve this punishment?” Josh asked indignantly. “I don’t want you to be my tutor. What do you think of that?”
“Fine with me. I’ll just go tell Krupps that you refused my help and I’ll have my lunch periods to myself again,” Sam called his bluff, knowing that participating in the tutoring program had become a condition of his remaining on the team. It was either shape up academically, or be benched for the rest of the season. Wooden chair legs scraped discordantly against linoleum as Sam got up to leave the library.
“Wait,” Josh muttered, fuming at her. Coach had him by the short and curlies; there was no doubt about it. He had to do this. “This sucks, you know.” At least he had gotten his feeble objections on the record.
“I know,” Sam agreed solemnly, sitting back down, “but there’s nothing either one of us can do about it so we might as well get started.”
“Whatever,” Josh grumbled.
“And although reading about the latest antics of the ex-Federline family might be a helluva lot more interesting, it’s not doing much to improve your grades,” Sam gently pried the tabloid magazine from Josh’s grasp and got down to business. “What do you have for English homework?”
**********
“So now I have to spend every lunch period in the library with Josh until the end of the term,” Sam complained to her mother that evening as she sliced tomatoes for a salad.
Jane turned away from the stove to face her daughter. “You’re not getting any sympathy from me. It’s the least you can do after publishing that article.”
“Mom! Whose side are you on?” Sam looked up from her task and accidentally dropped her knife on the cutting board with a clatter.
“There are no sides that I can see, Sam,” Jane responded reasonably. “But you did cross a line when you printed the GPAs of the football team and the cheerleading squad. That was a blatant invasion of privacy and nobody’s business.”
“You don’t think the student body deserves to know that people who participate in the school’s most popular activities aren’t held to any kind of academic standard?” Sam challenged.
“Come on now,” Jane chided. “Do you honestly think that public embarrassment was the way to get your message across? You could have written the story ten different ways and never used that information. It was malicious. Admit it.”
“It was not malicious,” Sam denied, “it’s the truth!” Sam picked up the knife and stabbed the air with it, emphasizing her point.
Wearily wondering where her daughter’s stubbornness came from, Jane dropped the subject. Endless discussion of last week’s Zapruder article had changed nothing, and she was tired of the way Sam’s actions were dividing her nascent family. The girls had just begun to get along when Sam had embarked on a crusade kick a few months ago, finding new ways to agitate Brooke and keeping the discord between them continual and fresh, like a bruise that stayed mottled and purple from repeated punching. Jane had kept a progressively closer eye on her daughter, concerned by the restless frustration that seemed to result in Sam lashing out with these upsetting projects that made everyone connected with them miserable. That the incidents were just short of doing real harm didn’t make Jane feel any better.
Two brunette heads turned at the sound of the kitchen door opening, and Sam bent to her tomatoes as Jane welcomed Brooke home.
“Hi, Brooke, honey, how was your day?” Jane smiled at her stepdaughter, turning her cheek as Brooke gave her an affectionate peck.
“Exhausting. I’m going to get out of these clothes and take a shower.” Brooke gestured to her limp Glamazon workout gear, ignoring the other occupant of the kitchen.
“Dinner is almost ready; can you be done by then?” Jane asked.
“That depends,” Brooke said, her tone becoming chilly. “Will she be there?”
Jane sighed, but Sam answered for her.
“Of course I will, Brooke, just like I am every night.”
“Then no, I’ll just grab something from the fridge later,” Brooke directed her reply to Jane. Mother and daughter watched as she bounded up the stairs without another word.
“This has to stop, Sam.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Sam protested.
“Yes, you did. And I’ve had enough. I want both of your faces, preferably smiling, sitting at the table for dinner when Mike gets home.” Jane looked at her watch. “You’ve got about ten minutes, Sam. Make this right.”
*********
As Sam was about to knock on Brooke’s door, it opened. Brooke stood there in her robe, obviously on her way to the bathroom for her shower.
“Get out of the way,” Brooke barked.
Sam didn’t move and said nothing, at a sudden loss for words. This was the first sentence Brooke had spoken to her since the article was published.
Brooke shifted her weight and stuck out her chin. “Do you want me to push you out of the way?” she warned, “because I will.”
Sam cleared her throat. “My mother would really like it if you joined us for dinner. I would like it too.”
“I have no problem with your mother. But the thought of sharing a table with you turns my stomach so I’m going to decline your invitation.”
“Brooke, why are you so pissed off? I was only telling the truth in that article. And anyway, you have a 3.8 GPA. Why do you care if other people know it?” Sam was feeling ashamed and defensive, which had become common to her interactions with Brooke.
Brooke exploded at Sam’s obtuseness. “I really don’t believe you. Is it possible that you can’t understand why I’d be angry? That article was just the latest gambit in your scorched earth campaign against my friends and me. Why do you insist on persecuting me? What did I ever do to you? First it was the walkout you staged during the pep rally, then it was the anthrax rumor during the first night game of the season. Don’t even try to tell me that wasn’t you. The stands were empty by halftime. And now this. Do you really think Mary Cherry wanted anyone to know that she has a 1.3 grade point average? And poor Josh? He’s the best athlete the school has and now people think he’s an idiot.” Brooke shook her head at the injustice. “I heard you’re his new tutor,” she added in a tone of disbelief.
“That’s Krupp’s fault. Don’t blame me,” Sam defended herself against this last accusation, not able to deny any of the others. Hearing all the evidence stacked against her was sobering.
Some of Brooke’s anger dissipated when Sam’s usual bitchy retort was not forthcoming. Figuring out what lay behind Sam’s tirades against her and her friends had been impossible. They had been making tentative steps toward friendship when Sam’s full-bore assault had brought them right back to square one. She had even discussed the problem with Jane in hopes of gaining some insight as to why Sam was behaving so vengefully, but Jane hadn’t a clue either. The upshot was that Brooke had learned to keep her mouth shut around Sam, lest it result in a Zapruder cover story with quotes from her own lips.
“If anything,” Sam continued in the face of Brooke’s perplexed silence, “you should be Josh’s tutor. You get better grades.”
“No thanks. The last thing Josh and I need is to spend every lunch period together.”
"Yeah, I guess it's only been, what, like, a month since you two broke up. Too soon, huh?” Sam felt like she should acknowledge the implication of Brooke’s statement, however awkward it made her feel. Theirs was not a relationship that allowed for intimate disclosures.
Brooke was about to confide in Sam when she remembered she was supposed to be angry with her, and she certainly couldn’t trust her. “It’s none of your business,” she snapped.
That was more like it. Sam nodded, back on familiar ground. But she was too tired to get snippy. “You’re right, it’s not,” she agreed.
Brooke looked at her housemate in confusion. That was the second opportunity for a rapid fire comeback that Sam had passed up. This subdued girl before her now was so at odds with the strident combatant she knew from school, she briefly wondered if Sam was suffering from schizophrenia. It was more likely that Sam just suffered from permanent mood swings or some undiagnosed condition. Annoying-itis, maybe. Or Niceness Deficit Disorder. Whatever the cause of Sam’s momentary quietude, Brooke impulsively decided to take advantage of it and ask Sam a favor. Before she could stop herself she said, “Would you do something for me, Sam?”
“What?” Sam replied warily.
“Josh is smart; he just doesn’t have faith that his brain can do it. He needs someone who will really get through to him, really try for him, you know? You’re in a position to do him some good. Will you promise to help him as much as you can?”
Sam nearly took a step back she was so surprised at Brooke’s request. Even though they had parted, Brooke still cared enough for Josh to worry about how he performed academically. That was nice. Or maybe Brooke still harbored lingering romantic feelings for her ex-boyfriend. At any rate, the reason for Brooke’s kindness toward Josh was incidental. Although Sam was reluctant to believe it, here was irrefutable proof that Brooke had a good heart. And if Brooke was entrusting Sam with her request, then Sam would fulfill it as best she could. “I’ll try, Brooke. I promise to try.”
“Thanks.” Brooke smiled at Sam, and to Sam it felt like someone had just thrown open a window, letting in a cool breeze that teased her skin, sharpened her awareness. And she was alarmed to find herself blushing.
It was ridiculous. Sam’s current modus operandi of arranging the most elaborate, bombastic, destructive, public situations in order to loom larger in Brooke’s sight did not seem to be working at all. Yet all Brooke had to do was quietly ask a favor and Sam helplessly pledged herself to discharge it.
In her own heart, Sam could admit the reason behind her crusade against football and cheerleaders and the popular crowd was simply a way to attract Brooke’s attention, negative though it may be. Unable to deal with Brooke’s indifference, Sam devised plans to bring herself into Brooke’s line of sight. Unfortunately, she wasn’t clever enough to figure out how to do this in a positive way, repeatedly hurting Brooke in the process. The negative impact she was having on Brooke’s life was better than no impact at all. And the most confounding thing was Sam’s own inability to figure out why she needed, craved even, Brooke’s notice. Her frustration cut her to the quick even now and she felt her eyes fill with tears.
Brooke noticed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Sam answered automatically, bowing her head to hide the lachrymose evidence. After a moment she faced Brooke again, all traces of her distress gone. “Look, come down to dinner or don’t. I really don’t care. As a matter of fact, I’m not that hungry so feel free to have dinner without nausea-inducing me at the table.” With that, she turned and entered her own room, leaving Brooke in the hallway alone.
*********
“Did you read the chapter on Reconstruction yet?” Sam asked, trying to hide her exasperation. Josh was being especially unproductive today.
“No, I’m still on the Battle at Gettysburg. There’s way too much reading in this class,” Josh complained.
“It’s history. All you have to do is read.”
“And memorize. And remember all those dates, and who won what battle and who was the general…” Josh sounded completely demoralized.
Sam had soon realized that many factors contributed to effective tutoring. Sometimes she had to hound Josh as if she were his mother, sometimes coach him like, well, a coach, and sometimes build up his confidence like his own personal pep squad. Picking up her metaphorical pom-poms, she went to work. “Hey, remember how well you did on the last test? It’s all about small manageable chunks. Don’t get overwhelmed by the big picture. You are doing really well in this class. You can do it.” Go team. Rah rah rah. Sam was glad she was in the library and she had to speak quietly. If anyone heard her stroking Josh’s ego like she often did, she didn’t think she could live it down.
Josh continued to stare disconsolately at the brown paper cover of his history book. This was more than just the usual educational reluctance, which Sam had seen a hundred times now. They wouldn’t accomplish anything today if she didn’t get whatever was bugging him out in the open. Plus she had her own Calculus homework to do and lunch was already half over. “What’s up, Josh?
“You wouldn’t understand,” he mumbled.
“Try me.” Relations between them had warmed considerably since the beginning of their tutoring sessions a month earlier. Josh had grudgingly learned to trust her, and Sam found that she felt rewarded by aiding him in his studies. That she was indirectly enabling him to take part in the football program, which she had been actively trying to discredit, had stopped bothering her so much.
“It’s Brooke,” Josh admitted.
Sam was not expecting this. She sat up a little straighter. “What about her?”
“She’s going to go on a date-“
“With whom?” Sam demanded, interrupting Josh. “I haven’t seen her with anyone.”
“If you’ll let me finish,” Josh broke back in, peeved. “What I meant to say was that I think she’s almost ready to date again. Someday soon, she’s going to date somebody, and it’s not going to be me,” he said sadly.
Sam considered his assertion. It had now been several months since Brooke and Josh had broken up, and after Josh and Carmen’s short-lived affair, neither of Kennedy’s formerly golden couple had seen any action. But Josh said that was about to change. “Really? Why do you think so?”
“I notice stuff about her,” Josh said uncomfortably.
“Because you’re still into her,” Sam realized at once, connecting the few remaining dots in the picture.
Josh nodded glumly.
“What have you noticed?” Sam was curious.
“It’s nothing concrete. She just seems happier, in a more positive mood. Her body language is freer, like she’s more open to things lately.”
Sam regarded Josh with something like wonder. The boy may not be book smart, but he was certainly perceptive, at least when it came to Brooke. She had not noticed any change in Brooke, but that may have been because she had taken to avoiding her housemate since the fallout from what Brooke called her scorched earth campaign. Vague feelings of guilt and discomfort came to the fore when she was in Brooke’s vicinity, and rather than figure out why this was, Sam chose to avoid. She was trying a new tack, hoping it would control her unreasonable urge to stir things up. So far it was working. Turning her mind back to Josh, she tried to help him with his problem.
“Why don’t you try to get her back?” she naturally asked.
“And how do you propose I do that?” he replied, almost bitterly. “She’ll barely talk to me anymore, not that I blame her with all the mixed signals I’ve sent. She seemed like she wanted to try again when I was with Carmen, but to me it was only Brooke wanting what she suddenly couldn’t have. Then I just needed to be by myself for awhile.” Josh turned his head and lapsed into thought, gazing at the stacks without seeing them.
“And now?” Sam prompted.
Josh faced Sam and said with conviction, “Now I know she’s the one that I want.”
Stifling the unexpected urge to put her fist through a wall, which was her first uncensored reaction to Josh’s admission, Sam calmly said, “You should tell her.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because Brooke is so much smarter than me, I always end up tongue-tied around her. Whenever I have something important to tell her, I get nervous and the words get mixed up and come out completely wrong.”
Sam understood that. Speaking extemporaneously was not easy. It was why she valued the written word so much. “Maybe you should write her a letter. That way you can figure out what you want to say before it’s actually said. There’s less pressure that way.”
“Hey, yeah! That’s a great idea,” Josh pulled out a page of loose-leaf and picked up his pencil.
“Wait. You’re going to do this now? What about history? The Civil War, remember?”
“Later.” Josh was already distracted. He got as far as printing ‘Dear Brooke’ at the top of the page when he stopped, head bent in concentration. After a moment he looked up at Sam. “What would you-“
“No. No way.” Sam didn’t let him finish. “If you’re not going to do school work then I’ve got Calculus to do.” She pulled her math text from her bag.
“But Sam, you’re the writer. You’ve got to help me.”
“Helping you write a love letter goes above and beyond the call of your average tutor. Forget it.” Sam opened her book, propping it between them so she couldn’t see what Josh was doing.
A few minutes elapsed while the pair worked in silence. Sam could hear the scratching of Josh’s pencil, then she felt the table quaking while Josh erased the hell out of something. She refused to look up from her homework problems. When the scratching and table trembling stopped, her curiosity got the better of her.
“What do you have so far?” she asked, placing her book flat on the table.
Josh sheepishly passed the paper to her.
Dear Brooke,
Would you like to go out on a date with me?
_____ Yes
_____ No
_____ Maybe/Ask again later
Thanks.
Love,
Josh
“This is a joke, right?” Sam asked.
“It’s worked before,” Josh claimed. “One time I passed her a note like this in Biology lab and she loved it!”
“It’s not going to work this time,” Sam said flatly. “You’re trying to jumpstart your relationship, not put it up on concrete blocks. You want to revive something that may already be dead in her eyes. Tell her all the reasons why you don’t deserve her, then convince her to give you a chance. Appeal to her sense of passion. Girls like to be swept off their feet.”
“Okay. That’s good.” Josh readied himself to write again, then glanced up from the page, at a loss. “How do I do that?”
“You have to draw a line between everything that went before and what you want to happen in the future. There has to be a clear demarcation.”
Josh wrote feverishly, trying to get it all down.
“Start with an apology. She’s blameless, everything is your fault.” Sam continued, a thoughtful look on her face.
Josh offered her the pencil. “Please, Sam, just give me a few ideas.”
Entire paragraphs were forming in her mind. After a moment’s hesitation, Sam took the pencil and turned the paper to its blank side. She started to write.
When the bell rang twenty minutes later, she handed Josh the paper, now covered with her words. “Type it or copy it over in your handwriting,” Sam instructed. “She never finds out about this.”
“No, never,” Josh began to read what she had written. “This is perfect, Sam! Thank you!” He put the letter between the pages of his history book and shoved it into his backpack before racing to his next class.
“Don’t forget to do your homework!” Sam called after him, earning a frown of disapproval from the librarian. In no rush to move, she sat there staring into space until the second bell sounded. Shakily running a hand through her hair, she tried to get a hold of herself. Of all the thoughts now racing through her brain, there was one that was making itself heard with a desperate repetitive urgency: I am in big trouble.
Part 2
Name: Green Quarter
Disclaimer: The characters of Popular do not belong to me, no infringement intended.
Fandom: Popular
Pairing: Sam/Brooke
Rating: 15
Authors Note: This story began as an homage to the play, Cyrano de Bergerac and the works that it inspired, most notably the movie Roxanne and the TV series, My So-called Life. However, it eventually veers away from its inspiration. The title is taken from the song “Mexican Wrestler,” by Jill Sobule. Thanks, as always, to Junebug.
Summary: Sam suffers from a particularly acute case of unrequited love.
Part 1
Sam McPherson entered the school library and searched the faces of her schoolmates until she found the particular face she was looking for. Never one to back away from a difficult situation (especially one of her own making), she purposefully crossed the room and sat down at a library table across from Kennedy High’s slightly tarnished football hero. “I’m your tutor,” she said sullenly to Josh Ford.
Looking up from the current issue of People magazine into the eyes of the one who had done the tarnishing, Josh recoiled in disgust. “You?”
“Yes, me. Principal Krupps forced me to ‘volunteer’ after the whole GPA exposé thing. He thought it a karmic-ly apt punishment.” Crossed arms and a wry delivery did little to disguise Sam’s discomfort. She had known that her latest article in the Zapruder had been ethically borderline, but had done it anyway. Just one more instance of her raging against the Kennedy machine, consequences be damned.
“What did I do to deserve this punishment?” Josh asked indignantly. “I don’t want you to be my tutor. What do you think of that?”
“Fine with me. I’ll just go tell Krupps that you refused my help and I’ll have my lunch periods to myself again,” Sam called his bluff, knowing that participating in the tutoring program had become a condition of his remaining on the team. It was either shape up academically, or be benched for the rest of the season. Wooden chair legs scraped discordantly against linoleum as Sam got up to leave the library.
“Wait,” Josh muttered, fuming at her. Coach had him by the short and curlies; there was no doubt about it. He had to do this. “This sucks, you know.” At least he had gotten his feeble objections on the record.
“I know,” Sam agreed solemnly, sitting back down, “but there’s nothing either one of us can do about it so we might as well get started.”
“Whatever,” Josh grumbled.
“And although reading about the latest antics of the ex-Federline family might be a helluva lot more interesting, it’s not doing much to improve your grades,” Sam gently pried the tabloid magazine from Josh’s grasp and got down to business. “What do you have for English homework?”
**********
“So now I have to spend every lunch period in the library with Josh until the end of the term,” Sam complained to her mother that evening as she sliced tomatoes for a salad.
Jane turned away from the stove to face her daughter. “You’re not getting any sympathy from me. It’s the least you can do after publishing that article.”
“Mom! Whose side are you on?” Sam looked up from her task and accidentally dropped her knife on the cutting board with a clatter.
“There are no sides that I can see, Sam,” Jane responded reasonably. “But you did cross a line when you printed the GPAs of the football team and the cheerleading squad. That was a blatant invasion of privacy and nobody’s business.”
“You don’t think the student body deserves to know that people who participate in the school’s most popular activities aren’t held to any kind of academic standard?” Sam challenged.
“Come on now,” Jane chided. “Do you honestly think that public embarrassment was the way to get your message across? You could have written the story ten different ways and never used that information. It was malicious. Admit it.”
“It was not malicious,” Sam denied, “it’s the truth!” Sam picked up the knife and stabbed the air with it, emphasizing her point.
Wearily wondering where her daughter’s stubbornness came from, Jane dropped the subject. Endless discussion of last week’s Zapruder article had changed nothing, and she was tired of the way Sam’s actions were dividing her nascent family. The girls had just begun to get along when Sam had embarked on a crusade kick a few months ago, finding new ways to agitate Brooke and keeping the discord between them continual and fresh, like a bruise that stayed mottled and purple from repeated punching. Jane had kept a progressively closer eye on her daughter, concerned by the restless frustration that seemed to result in Sam lashing out with these upsetting projects that made everyone connected with them miserable. That the incidents were just short of doing real harm didn’t make Jane feel any better.
Two brunette heads turned at the sound of the kitchen door opening, and Sam bent to her tomatoes as Jane welcomed Brooke home.
“Hi, Brooke, honey, how was your day?” Jane smiled at her stepdaughter, turning her cheek as Brooke gave her an affectionate peck.
“Exhausting. I’m going to get out of these clothes and take a shower.” Brooke gestured to her limp Glamazon workout gear, ignoring the other occupant of the kitchen.
“Dinner is almost ready; can you be done by then?” Jane asked.
“That depends,” Brooke said, her tone becoming chilly. “Will she be there?”
Jane sighed, but Sam answered for her.
“Of course I will, Brooke, just like I am every night.”
“Then no, I’ll just grab something from the fridge later,” Brooke directed her reply to Jane. Mother and daughter watched as she bounded up the stairs without another word.
“This has to stop, Sam.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Sam protested.
“Yes, you did. And I’ve had enough. I want both of your faces, preferably smiling, sitting at the table for dinner when Mike gets home.” Jane looked at her watch. “You’ve got about ten minutes, Sam. Make this right.”
*********
As Sam was about to knock on Brooke’s door, it opened. Brooke stood there in her robe, obviously on her way to the bathroom for her shower.
“Get out of the way,” Brooke barked.
Sam didn’t move and said nothing, at a sudden loss for words. This was the first sentence Brooke had spoken to her since the article was published.
Brooke shifted her weight and stuck out her chin. “Do you want me to push you out of the way?” she warned, “because I will.”
Sam cleared her throat. “My mother would really like it if you joined us for dinner. I would like it too.”
“I have no problem with your mother. But the thought of sharing a table with you turns my stomach so I’m going to decline your invitation.”
“Brooke, why are you so pissed off? I was only telling the truth in that article. And anyway, you have a 3.8 GPA. Why do you care if other people know it?” Sam was feeling ashamed and defensive, which had become common to her interactions with Brooke.
Brooke exploded at Sam’s obtuseness. “I really don’t believe you. Is it possible that you can’t understand why I’d be angry? That article was just the latest gambit in your scorched earth campaign against my friends and me. Why do you insist on persecuting me? What did I ever do to you? First it was the walkout you staged during the pep rally, then it was the anthrax rumor during the first night game of the season. Don’t even try to tell me that wasn’t you. The stands were empty by halftime. And now this. Do you really think Mary Cherry wanted anyone to know that she has a 1.3 grade point average? And poor Josh? He’s the best athlete the school has and now people think he’s an idiot.” Brooke shook her head at the injustice. “I heard you’re his new tutor,” she added in a tone of disbelief.
“That’s Krupp’s fault. Don’t blame me,” Sam defended herself against this last accusation, not able to deny any of the others. Hearing all the evidence stacked against her was sobering.
Some of Brooke’s anger dissipated when Sam’s usual bitchy retort was not forthcoming. Figuring out what lay behind Sam’s tirades against her and her friends had been impossible. They had been making tentative steps toward friendship when Sam’s full-bore assault had brought them right back to square one. She had even discussed the problem with Jane in hopes of gaining some insight as to why Sam was behaving so vengefully, but Jane hadn’t a clue either. The upshot was that Brooke had learned to keep her mouth shut around Sam, lest it result in a Zapruder cover story with quotes from her own lips.
“If anything,” Sam continued in the face of Brooke’s perplexed silence, “you should be Josh’s tutor. You get better grades.”
“No thanks. The last thing Josh and I need is to spend every lunch period together.”
"Yeah, I guess it's only been, what, like, a month since you two broke up. Too soon, huh?” Sam felt like she should acknowledge the implication of Brooke’s statement, however awkward it made her feel. Theirs was not a relationship that allowed for intimate disclosures.
Brooke was about to confide in Sam when she remembered she was supposed to be angry with her, and she certainly couldn’t trust her. “It’s none of your business,” she snapped.
That was more like it. Sam nodded, back on familiar ground. But she was too tired to get snippy. “You’re right, it’s not,” she agreed.
Brooke looked at her housemate in confusion. That was the second opportunity for a rapid fire comeback that Sam had passed up. This subdued girl before her now was so at odds with the strident combatant she knew from school, she briefly wondered if Sam was suffering from schizophrenia. It was more likely that Sam just suffered from permanent mood swings or some undiagnosed condition. Annoying-itis, maybe. Or Niceness Deficit Disorder. Whatever the cause of Sam’s momentary quietude, Brooke impulsively decided to take advantage of it and ask Sam a favor. Before she could stop herself she said, “Would you do something for me, Sam?”
“What?” Sam replied warily.
“Josh is smart; he just doesn’t have faith that his brain can do it. He needs someone who will really get through to him, really try for him, you know? You’re in a position to do him some good. Will you promise to help him as much as you can?”
Sam nearly took a step back she was so surprised at Brooke’s request. Even though they had parted, Brooke still cared enough for Josh to worry about how he performed academically. That was nice. Or maybe Brooke still harbored lingering romantic feelings for her ex-boyfriend. At any rate, the reason for Brooke’s kindness toward Josh was incidental. Although Sam was reluctant to believe it, here was irrefutable proof that Brooke had a good heart. And if Brooke was entrusting Sam with her request, then Sam would fulfill it as best she could. “I’ll try, Brooke. I promise to try.”
“Thanks.” Brooke smiled at Sam, and to Sam it felt like someone had just thrown open a window, letting in a cool breeze that teased her skin, sharpened her awareness. And she was alarmed to find herself blushing.
It was ridiculous. Sam’s current modus operandi of arranging the most elaborate, bombastic, destructive, public situations in order to loom larger in Brooke’s sight did not seem to be working at all. Yet all Brooke had to do was quietly ask a favor and Sam helplessly pledged herself to discharge it.
In her own heart, Sam could admit the reason behind her crusade against football and cheerleaders and the popular crowd was simply a way to attract Brooke’s attention, negative though it may be. Unable to deal with Brooke’s indifference, Sam devised plans to bring herself into Brooke’s line of sight. Unfortunately, she wasn’t clever enough to figure out how to do this in a positive way, repeatedly hurting Brooke in the process. The negative impact she was having on Brooke’s life was better than no impact at all. And the most confounding thing was Sam’s own inability to figure out why she needed, craved even, Brooke’s notice. Her frustration cut her to the quick even now and she felt her eyes fill with tears.
Brooke noticed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Sam answered automatically, bowing her head to hide the lachrymose evidence. After a moment she faced Brooke again, all traces of her distress gone. “Look, come down to dinner or don’t. I really don’t care. As a matter of fact, I’m not that hungry so feel free to have dinner without nausea-inducing me at the table.” With that, she turned and entered her own room, leaving Brooke in the hallway alone.
*********
“Did you read the chapter on Reconstruction yet?” Sam asked, trying to hide her exasperation. Josh was being especially unproductive today.
“No, I’m still on the Battle at Gettysburg. There’s way too much reading in this class,” Josh complained.
“It’s history. All you have to do is read.”
“And memorize. And remember all those dates, and who won what battle and who was the general…” Josh sounded completely demoralized.
Sam had soon realized that many factors contributed to effective tutoring. Sometimes she had to hound Josh as if she were his mother, sometimes coach him like, well, a coach, and sometimes build up his confidence like his own personal pep squad. Picking up her metaphorical pom-poms, she went to work. “Hey, remember how well you did on the last test? It’s all about small manageable chunks. Don’t get overwhelmed by the big picture. You are doing really well in this class. You can do it.” Go team. Rah rah rah. Sam was glad she was in the library and she had to speak quietly. If anyone heard her stroking Josh’s ego like she often did, she didn’t think she could live it down.
Josh continued to stare disconsolately at the brown paper cover of his history book. This was more than just the usual educational reluctance, which Sam had seen a hundred times now. They wouldn’t accomplish anything today if she didn’t get whatever was bugging him out in the open. Plus she had her own Calculus homework to do and lunch was already half over. “What’s up, Josh?
“You wouldn’t understand,” he mumbled.
“Try me.” Relations between them had warmed considerably since the beginning of their tutoring sessions a month earlier. Josh had grudgingly learned to trust her, and Sam found that she felt rewarded by aiding him in his studies. That she was indirectly enabling him to take part in the football program, which she had been actively trying to discredit, had stopped bothering her so much.
“It’s Brooke,” Josh admitted.
Sam was not expecting this. She sat up a little straighter. “What about her?”
“She’s going to go on a date-“
“With whom?” Sam demanded, interrupting Josh. “I haven’t seen her with anyone.”
“If you’ll let me finish,” Josh broke back in, peeved. “What I meant to say was that I think she’s almost ready to date again. Someday soon, she’s going to date somebody, and it’s not going to be me,” he said sadly.
Sam considered his assertion. It had now been several months since Brooke and Josh had broken up, and after Josh and Carmen’s short-lived affair, neither of Kennedy’s formerly golden couple had seen any action. But Josh said that was about to change. “Really? Why do you think so?”
“I notice stuff about her,” Josh said uncomfortably.
“Because you’re still into her,” Sam realized at once, connecting the few remaining dots in the picture.
Josh nodded glumly.
“What have you noticed?” Sam was curious.
“It’s nothing concrete. She just seems happier, in a more positive mood. Her body language is freer, like she’s more open to things lately.”
Sam regarded Josh with something like wonder. The boy may not be book smart, but he was certainly perceptive, at least when it came to Brooke. She had not noticed any change in Brooke, but that may have been because she had taken to avoiding her housemate since the fallout from what Brooke called her scorched earth campaign. Vague feelings of guilt and discomfort came to the fore when she was in Brooke’s vicinity, and rather than figure out why this was, Sam chose to avoid. She was trying a new tack, hoping it would control her unreasonable urge to stir things up. So far it was working. Turning her mind back to Josh, she tried to help him with his problem.
“Why don’t you try to get her back?” she naturally asked.
“And how do you propose I do that?” he replied, almost bitterly. “She’ll barely talk to me anymore, not that I blame her with all the mixed signals I’ve sent. She seemed like she wanted to try again when I was with Carmen, but to me it was only Brooke wanting what she suddenly couldn’t have. Then I just needed to be by myself for awhile.” Josh turned his head and lapsed into thought, gazing at the stacks without seeing them.
“And now?” Sam prompted.
Josh faced Sam and said with conviction, “Now I know she’s the one that I want.”
Stifling the unexpected urge to put her fist through a wall, which was her first uncensored reaction to Josh’s admission, Sam calmly said, “You should tell her.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because Brooke is so much smarter than me, I always end up tongue-tied around her. Whenever I have something important to tell her, I get nervous and the words get mixed up and come out completely wrong.”
Sam understood that. Speaking extemporaneously was not easy. It was why she valued the written word so much. “Maybe you should write her a letter. That way you can figure out what you want to say before it’s actually said. There’s less pressure that way.”
“Hey, yeah! That’s a great idea,” Josh pulled out a page of loose-leaf and picked up his pencil.
“Wait. You’re going to do this now? What about history? The Civil War, remember?”
“Later.” Josh was already distracted. He got as far as printing ‘Dear Brooke’ at the top of the page when he stopped, head bent in concentration. After a moment he looked up at Sam. “What would you-“
“No. No way.” Sam didn’t let him finish. “If you’re not going to do school work then I’ve got Calculus to do.” She pulled her math text from her bag.
“But Sam, you’re the writer. You’ve got to help me.”
“Helping you write a love letter goes above and beyond the call of your average tutor. Forget it.” Sam opened her book, propping it between them so she couldn’t see what Josh was doing.
A few minutes elapsed while the pair worked in silence. Sam could hear the scratching of Josh’s pencil, then she felt the table quaking while Josh erased the hell out of something. She refused to look up from her homework problems. When the scratching and table trembling stopped, her curiosity got the better of her.
“What do you have so far?” she asked, placing her book flat on the table.
Josh sheepishly passed the paper to her.
Dear Brooke,
Would you like to go out on a date with me?
_____ Yes
_____ No
_____ Maybe/Ask again later
Thanks.
Love,
Josh
“This is a joke, right?” Sam asked.
“It’s worked before,” Josh claimed. “One time I passed her a note like this in Biology lab and she loved it!”
“It’s not going to work this time,” Sam said flatly. “You’re trying to jumpstart your relationship, not put it up on concrete blocks. You want to revive something that may already be dead in her eyes. Tell her all the reasons why you don’t deserve her, then convince her to give you a chance. Appeal to her sense of passion. Girls like to be swept off their feet.”
“Okay. That’s good.” Josh readied himself to write again, then glanced up from the page, at a loss. “How do I do that?”
“You have to draw a line between everything that went before and what you want to happen in the future. There has to be a clear demarcation.”
Josh wrote feverishly, trying to get it all down.
“Start with an apology. She’s blameless, everything is your fault.” Sam continued, a thoughtful look on her face.
Josh offered her the pencil. “Please, Sam, just give me a few ideas.”
Entire paragraphs were forming in her mind. After a moment’s hesitation, Sam took the pencil and turned the paper to its blank side. She started to write.
When the bell rang twenty minutes later, she handed Josh the paper, now covered with her words. “Type it or copy it over in your handwriting,” Sam instructed. “She never finds out about this.”
“No, never,” Josh began to read what she had written. “This is perfect, Sam! Thank you!” He put the letter between the pages of his history book and shoved it into his backpack before racing to his next class.
“Don’t forget to do your homework!” Sam called after him, earning a frown of disapproval from the librarian. In no rush to move, she sat there staring into space until the second bell sounded. Shakily running a hand through her hair, she tried to get a hold of herself. Of all the thoughts now racing through her brain, there was one that was making itself heard with a desperate repetitive urgency: I am in big trouble.
Part 2