False Facades (Best Sellers: Best Romance/Humor )

by Martha Greenwood

  She drew back her arm and gave it all she got. Tristan barely budged, but pain shot through her arm. Man, is that thing made of steel?

  Vincent and Tristan both shook their heads. Sammy groaned in frustration. "If you're such experts, why don't you show me then?" she hissed.

  Vincent turned to stare at Tristan speculatively, eyes positively gleaming with delight.

  I really shouldn't have said that. Sammy could practically see her roommate's mind working: A legitimate excuse to pulverize Tristan? Excellent! She turned to give Tristan a warning look, but his expression only made her more agitated. The blonde boy's grim face and sneer said it clearly: Like hell I'm gonna stand and let you use me as a punching bag, you son of a b- Sammy quickly censored the rest of her thoughts.

  Vincent grinned and pressed forward, landing his first punch with a resounding slam, sending Tristan reeling backward with its force.

  A dark smirk crossed Tristan's lips and he dropped the cushion. "My turn." He threw himself forward at Vincent and Sammy could only stare, panicked, at the all out brawl.

  Vincent grunted with Tristan's jab and retaliated with an equal blow. Jack and Caine both ran forward and grabbed each boy, trying to pull them apart.

  Will sighed beside her. "Oh, well."

  "What should we do?" Sammy nearly screamed at him. The two boys refused to budge from their fight, shrugging off their friends.

  "Get popcorn?" the dark haired boy suggested.

  Sammy bounced on her balls of her feet and with a stifled groan, ran forward, trying to placate the boys. Well, in hindsight, it had certainly sounded like a better idea in her mind before it was put into action. Of course, in the confusion and clamor, it was only natural she could get hurt.

  She just didn't know how much.

  She protested, "Will you guys just stop – " BAM!

  Tristan and Vincent both stopped short and stared down at Sam in shock. The Coach finally blew the whistle and came running over. "What the hell happened here?"

  "Where were you before?" Will asked angrily as he hurried to Sam's side.

  "I thought this was just a friendly fight. Hell, beats these stupid practice punches. New kid, what are you doing sitting on the floor like that? Stop being so lazy."

  "Ow . . ."

  * * *

  Nurse Clairol sighed and clucked her tongue. "Boys these days. You poor dear, getting hurt so fast again." The woman moved out of the room, giving the other boys a warning look. "Stay here until you feel better, okay? I have to pick up some supplies that were just delivered to the office, but I'll be right back."

  Sammy winced as she pressed the ice pack to her eye. Then she adjusted it to the other eye.

  Will spoke up, "Well, I still think you look really cute, Sammy. Those two black eyes make you look as adorable as a tiny panda bear."

  Vincent offered an apologetic smile. "Yeah, I mean, you have to admit . . . we had good aim, didn't we? One on each eye."

  Tristan nodded profusely. "Yeah, and it'll heal fast. No worries." He gestured at his friend next to him. "Until then, you're welcome to borrow Caine's sunglasses."

  Sammy glared at them and they flinched. "Boy, you sure got that mean look down cold now." Vincent smiled hesitantly. Her glowering didn't let up.

  "Well, if it'll make you feel better, you're welcomed to punch us," Tristan suggested cooperatively. Vincent nodded firmly.

  "You know, you two are sure agreeing a lot with each other. Does that mean your stupid rivalry has finally ended?" Sammy asked, folding her arms grumpily.

  The boys glanced at each other and rolled their eyes, snorting.

  "I take that as a no. You guys are so – so – I don't even understand why you two hate each other so much!"

  They quieted down and Caine spoke up helpfully, "It's a long story."

  Sammy raised her eyebrow, winced as the pain reminded her again of her two new accessories, and replied, "And nobody would care to explain that story to me?"

  No one answered and she gritted her teeth. She jumped off the table and picked up her backpack.

  "Where are you going?" Vincent asked.

  "Dorm."

  "So you're not going to punch us? It might make you feel better," Tristan said.

  Sammy sulked, "Don't believe I don't want to. It's just that I'm not strong enough to inflict real damage and you know it. It'll probably hurt my hands more than I'll hurt you two."

  They grinned simultaneously and she grimaced at them one last time before slamming the door.

  "Damn, those black eyes must be really hurting him," Will rubbed his chin absentmindedly.

  Vincent cast him a look. "Why would you say that?"

  "Why else would he be squinting at you like that?"

  "Yeah, that was his death glare."

  "Oh . . . well, it wasn't very good, was it?"

  "You try telling him that. He'll only squint at you more. Just pretend to be scared. It'll make him happy."

  "Hey, what is this?" Caine picked up a beat up brown wallet off the floor.

  "Must be Sam's. He must have dropped it while he was stomping out the door," Jack said.

  Caine opened it and whistled lowly.

  "What? It's not as if you haven't seen money before." Vincent clambered up to perch on the cabinet.

  "No, but take a look at this. Damn, she's hot," Caine raked his eyes over the picture in appreciation.

  All the guys crowded around the tiny picture, curious. It was a family portrait: a tall well built brown haired man smiled gently with his arm wrapped around a petite woman with short red hair. They stood in front a small, yellow house with white gates. The grinning orange haired boy Vincent recognized from the picture Sam had before of her brother stood next to the man, but there was one last figure in the picture. A familiar tall, slender girl with pale, creamy skin, liquid green eyes, and glorious red hair that floated loosely to her waist. Towering over her mother and yet only reaching her father's shoulders, she smiled brightly, eyes crinkled in pure delight.

  Vincent's heart started pounding. Even though he still hadn't seen that open smile yet, he had seen a ghost of it before. A hint, a shadow of the same smile. Sam's smile.

  Chapter Seven

  Sammy trudged down the stairs wearily, wincing slightly as she poked gingerly at her bruised eyes. A sudden clatter from behind made her whirl around in alarm. She half expected to see Marco or Polo toppling down the stairs after her like a bowling ball, but to her surprise, no one was there. "Huh?"

  Her eyes lowered to a blue pen on the step, then moved upward to two pencils, a calculator, a suspiciously familiar looking composition notebook, an even more recognizable calculus textbook and . . . Damn! I've been leaving a freaking trail behind me! Darting up the steps, she scooped up all her possessions that fell out of her open backpack and stopped at the top to survey her losses. "Oh man, where's my wallet? It has most of my savings!" She quickly retraced her path through the convoluted hallways and finally came back to her starting point. Huffing and puffing, she opened the door to check the nurse's office - and blinked when five pairs of eyes swerved to her.

  "Wh – what's wrong?" she asked nervously, gripping her backpack tightly against her shoulder. "Why are you guys still here?"

  The boys didn't answer her, merely staring at her contemplatively. Sammy started to feel uneasy under their speculative scrutiny and her attention was suddenly caught by what Caine was holding. "Hey, that's my wallet! You found it. Thanks!" She extended her arm out for it, but he held it out of her reach.

  "First thing first," his turquoise eyes gleamed penetratingly. An uneasy feeling washed over her and she shivered in dread. Caine paused, studying her expression for a few moments before his features softened into a smile. She watched him in confusion, but the smile flickered away. "Who is this?" the boy demanded as he held the wallet out to her.

  She furrowed her eyebrow. "What are you talking –" She faltered as she stared down at her favorite picture of her family she had carefully
placed into her wallet. Her heart flipped over as she gazed down at the image of her "female self". Oh damn. She bit her lip and saw that everyone was now watching her carefully. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could you forget your wallet had this picture? Why didn't you pick a picture without yourself in it? Why must, of all people, did they have to find it? Why? Why! Okay, no, just stay calm and just think -

  "Why didn't you tell me you have such a hot sister?" Caine demanded again.

  "Eh?" She blinked. Oh, bless you. "I, well, it's not like I just go around telling people I have a, uh, hot sister. I mean, what kind of a brother would I be?"

  Vincent shoved Caine out of the way and grabbed the picture. He glared down at it and then returned his eyes back at her. After repeating this for a few times, he asked skeptically, "This really your sister?" His gray eyes narrowed.

  She couldn't seem to lie to him and she wrenched her eyes away from him, deciding to play dumb. "Well, no."

  "No?"

  "No," she repeated densely. "That picture isn't my sister."

  Vincent rolled his eyes. "Very funny, fine then, is the female figure in this picture your sister?"

  "No, she's my mom."

  "THE OTHER ONE!"

  She shrank away from them.

  Caine answered for her, "Well, of course she's his sister. Who else could she be? They look so much alike, they could be twins."

  Will draped an arm over Sam's shoulders and his eyes practically gleamed with delight. "Oh, wow, now I have a cute female version of Sam as well as the adorable male original. My prayers have finally been answered!!"

  Caine grinned, cocking his head to one side in a haughty gesture. "Don't be greedy. You can have the brother. I'll be more than happy to settle for the sister."

  Vincent erupted, "Nobody is having anybody!"

  Caine laughed, waving a hand in the other boy's direction. "Oh, I see, you're also interested in Sam's sister then? Want a piece of the action, eh?"

  Vincent gave him a dirty look. "No."

  Will gasped and his arms locked around Sam tightly. "Don't tell me you're interested in my Sammy then!"

  Vincent turned red, but before he could reach out to smash the two guys together, Tristan spoke up dryly, "Alright, enough. Let's turn back the discussion to Sam, shall we? All this talk about Grenford is giving me indigestion." Vincent glared at the blonde boy, but the latter continued without acknowledging him, "What's her name, Sam?"

  "Who?"

  "Your sister."

  "Um, uh, ah, Samantha."

  Jack stared at her, amused. "Samantha? Sam? Boy, your parents were sure creative. Your brother named Samuel too?"

  "Terry, actually," she smiled weakly. "Yeah, uh, Samantha and I were twins so my parents decided to be funny."

  Jack whistled appreciatively as his eyes scanned the picture again, "Man, she sure is beautiful."

  Sam blushed. "Thank you." The guys stared at her weirdly and she cleared her throat with a nervous laugh.

  Vincent continued to watch her. "Where is your family now?"

  Her face turned somber. Will slowly loosened his hold on her as he stared down at her. Sammy kept her green eyes downcast as she spoke clearly, "They died in a car accident when I was fifteen. Terry was with them and . . . I wasn't. Even though his body survived, he's been stuck in a coma ever since." Her breaths started to quicken in short, shallow gasps, eyes already stinging familiarly with tears. "In one night, my whole family was gone."

  "And Samantha?" Tristan inquired, his crystal blue eyes softened.

  Sammy started and she blinked blankly at them. "She died the moment my parents drew in their last breaths," she said flatly. Suddenly, all the memories flashed over her in an overwhelming wave. The surge of grief, pain, anger, and fear enveloped her and her breath caught in her throat.

  "Excuse me, I have to go put away my books," she choked and she hurried out before anyone could stop her. The room was deathly quiet as the boys stared at the door in shocked silence.

  Caine finally spoke up to break the grim tension, lips twisting in a half-hearted smile. "Well. So much for getting his sister's number."

  * * *

  Sammy sat glumly in the comfortable, red velvet, high-backed chair in her room. She dug her spoon once again into the carton of Edy's Espresso Chip ice cream and lifted it to her lips. She hesitated for a minute. This will go straight to my thighs. She spooned down the ice cream with a vengeance. Ah hell, I'm already a boy now. Who cares?

  A knock suddenly sounded on the door. She frowned, pursing her lips over the spoon. Vincent must have forgotten his key. Shuffling to the door in her bunny slippers and oversized plaid pajamas, she sucked on her spoon as she threw open the door. Her mouth fell open and the spoon clattered to the floor. Tristan stared at her, looking especially dashing in a blue sweater and black jeans. His eyes sparkled with amusement as they took in her state of appearance. She reddened and resisted the urge to slam the door in his face. He laughed, "Cute bunny slippers."

  "Yeah, that's what Vincent said too," she grumbled. She bent over to pick up the spoon and stood up, adjusting her shirt nonchalantly. "So, uh, wh – what are you doing here?"

  He stared at her with his brows knitted, eyes concerned, and she looked away, mindful of her near breakdown in the nurse's office. He held up her wallet absentmindedly. "You, um, forgot this."

  "Oh, thanks!" She started to reach for it, only to remember that her hands were already occupied by a spoon and the carton of ice cream. "Uh, why don't you come in?"

  Tristan walked in after her and closed the door behind him. Looking around the room, his eyes fell on Vincent's stuff. "Haven't been here before. Grenford and I aren't exactly the best buddies around here, you know."

  That's an understatement. She got a new spoon and plopped down into her seat again, setting the carton on her lap before accepting the wallet. Her eyes softened at the family picture and then she flipped it shut, clutching it to her chest. She munched furiously on her ice cream again, chewing on the bitter sweet chocolate chips. Tristan watched her from the corner of his eyes, tucked his hands into his pockets and sat down in the opposite chair. He smiled at her again.

  "What?" She gave him a curious look.

  "Nothing. Just never really saw a guy drown his sorrows in ice cream."

  She smiled wryly. "That obvious, huh?"

  "It's not rocket science and you have every right to grieve." He nodded quietly.

  She smiled back at him and said teasingly. "So tell me, Mr. Harland, what do the typical nice, normal guy drown himself in?"

  He chuckled and shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't know about the "normal" guy, but I do know most people prefer alcohol."

  She arched her eyebrow. "Wine?"

  "Beer. Liquor. Whatever."

  Her brows furrowed. "But we're under-aged."

  He stared at her in disbelief. "Don't tell me you haven't even taken a tiny sip of beer before?"

  Now she felt like a dork. "Well, I did have some champagne before," she said defensively.

  He laughed. "Boy, you're just this wild beast, aren't you?"

  A flush swept up her neck and she spooned another mouthful of ice cream, shrugging.

  * * *

  Vincent wandered aimlessly through the halls. Reaching an alcove, he took a step into the shadows and opened the doors to the balcony. Leaning his forearms on the railing, the cool night breeze ruffled his hair. Stars twinkled brightly and the trees rustled in the dark night. It was still September and the temperature was low, but not cold enough for him to need his winter jacket.

  He chewed on the inside of his cheek and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. Squinting against the light wind, he sighed. 'In one night, my whole family was gone.' He just couldn't get Sam's words out of his head. Somehow, he never expected that the quiet, shy boy would be hiding such a painful past. The picture of Sam's family flashed through his mind again and once again, he was struck by the willowy figure of the boy's sister. For some reason, he just couldn't
stop himself from thinking about the girl's smile - and her uncanny resemblance to Sam.

  Stop this, Vince. She's his twin. Of course they look alike. What did you expect? But that did nothing to quell what appeared to be ... disappointment ... in the pit of his stomach. He ran a hand over his face in frustration and disgust. For a minute there, I had really thought that Sam was really ... well, a girl in disguise ... and for that moment, I was actually happy about that. He hadn't wanted to think about it, but this brief false alarm had suddenly made him realize that he was kinda, sorta attracted to his roommate. It wasn't really Vincent's fault though – the kid looks so much like a girl that - Ah hell, I have a sexuality crisis.

  Perhaps this was what happens in prison, when you're a lonely male surrounded by all these other guys. That's why they say not to drop the soap, isn't it? It's just hormones and frustration speaking - I bet if I had Will for my roommate, I'd also – A vision of Will puckering up his lips with a 'come hither' look flashed in Vincent's mind and he choked. Okay, he wasn't attracted to Will, that's for sure.

  He dropped his forehead heavily against the marble column. He opened his eyes blearily and snorted. But even if Sam was a girl, how will that change things? I mean, sure, being roommates would be a bit awkward then, but what else? Just because he suddenly became a she wouldn't give me the permission to suddenly jump her ... him. Even if Sam was a girl, does that automatically made her ... him ... up for grabs? God, why am I even wondering about the impossible? Sam, a girl? Ridiculous.

  * * *

  Tristan leaned back in the chair and folded his hands on his stomach. "You might not know this but we're not that much different."

  Yeah, you think so? How about being born with money, good looks, and oh, I don't know, the Y chromosome? She turned her head, offering him a quizzical look. "How so?"

  The room was silent for a bout of time before he finally said, "My mother died when I was ten."

  She was startled and didn't really know how to respond. "Uh, I, oh, I'm –" She didn't want to give any trite responses since she'd received enough to know that they really suck. "I didn't know that." Yeah, and that's so much better.