by Amanda Morey
Derek grabbed her hand and pulled her onto his lap before she got too far. Sam smiled and rolled her eyes.
Juliana glanced over at Jason.
“Have you seen my journal?” Sam asked.
“No.” John said.
“Nope, sorry.” Chris said.
“Haven’t seen it, blondie.” Shawn said.
“It’s in your room, on your desk.” Jason told her.
“Thanks Jason.” Sam said, jumping off of Derek’s lap to go retrieve her journal.
Sam’s room was small, but not too small. “Medium sized”, she called it. She had a twin size bed, covered in dark blue sheets, light blue pillowcases, and an old white quilt with blue flowers scattered over it. That was her birthday present for her thirteenth birthday. Her mom had made it for her. She suddenly remembered with overwhelming clarity when John F. Kennedy had been assassinated. Her mother wouldn’t get out of bed for over a week. She had taken the quilt out of Sam’s room and clung to it desperately. As if it could make everything better. Somehow that seemed like a lifetime ago, though it wasn’t even a full year ago.
Sam looked at the quilt and smiled, remembering when she had walked in on her mom, Michelle, making it for her. She’d tried to hide it and told Sam to go help her father with dinner.
Her journal was on her desk, on top of papers, folders, and textbooks for school. Sam was in mostly advanced classes. Juliana and Derek were, too.
Lovingly, Sam stroked her journal. It was blue, sort of turquoise, with lilac, dusty rose and sea foam green butterflies on it. It wasn’t a spiral notebook, because Sam liked the other kind better.
Her adoptive parents were killed four months before her sixteenth birthday, and they didn’t have a lot of money (even less than usual) because they had to pay for the funeral. So Sam wasn’t expecting any gifts. But everyone, Craig, John, Matt, Chris, Shawn, and Jason chipped in to get Sam this journal. It was fancy, so it must have been expensive.
She had already had a journal at the time, but this was for when she finished that one. She started that journal four months after she turned sixteen. She’d been writing in it for about two months at the time. Her first entry had been about the dreams that she’d been having.
Sam thought about that. Her parents had been dead for ten months. She wiped away a tear that was running down her cheek.
Later that night, Sam was sitting on the couch reading Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov.
“Hi!”
Sam jumped and dropped her book to the floor.
“God, John you scared me. I lost my page.”
“Sorry. You’re so jumpy, Sam.” He said.
“I am not.”
John shrugged. “So, what are you doin’?”
“Reading.” She answered.
“You read too much.”
“Do not.”
“Yeah, you do.” He ruffled her hair.
Sam shrugged and pulled their soft, brown wool blanket back over her.
“Hey John?” She looked up from her book.
“Hmm?”
“Last night, when I had that headache . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Did someone carry me into my room?”
“Yep.” John said.
Sam waited for him to expand on his response.
“Who?” She asked. “You?”
“No, Jason did.” He went over to turn on the TV and stood there looking for the channel he wanted.
“Jason?”
“Yep.” He stopped the dial on the news. The reporter was talking about Martin Luther King Jr. winning the Nobel Peace Prize.
Sam reopened her book and stared at its pages, not seeing the words. She was thinking about Jason. She didn’t think Jason was even strong enough to carry her. She smiled. Somehow the thought that Jason carried her into her room made her feel very content, very safe.
“Sam?” John was staring at her.
“What?” She jumped and turned to him.
“Are you blushing?” He asked.
“What? No!” She tried to hide her face with her hair.
“Yeah, you are.” John scooted over to her on the couch. He smirked and nudged her shoulder with his.
“No I’m not. It’s just a little warm in here.”
“You have a blanket on.” He picked up the brown wool blanket and tossed it over her head.
Sam pushed the blanket off; her blonde hair was strewn about her face. She looked into John’s green eyes. He stared back into hers, which at the moment were gray. Sam actually couldn’t think of anything to say. She narrowed her eyes and turned away to continue reading Lolita.
***
“I knew it.” John said smiling.
“Knew what?” Sam asked, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
“You like him.” He pushed her shoulder.
“Like who?”
“You know who I’m talking about.” A small laugh escaped his lips.
“No, I don’t.” She sighed.
“Jason.”
“Of course I like Jason, he’s one of my best-” Sam glanced up from her book. “No, you don’t think-” Realization crossed her face.
“Yes, I do think!” He grinned so large it looked as if his teeth may fall out of his mouth. .
“What?” She scoffed as she closed her book and laid it gingerly on the scratched up coffee table.
“I think you like him as more than a friend!” John practically bounced on the couch as he said this.
“You’re crazy!” Sam said, standing up from the couch.
“Oh, am I?” John asked, also getting up.
“Yes!” Sam said raising her voice. “What could possibly make you think I like him?”
“What’s wrong with Jason?” He arched one perfect eyebrow and smirked.
John was right in front of her now and she was looking up at him, angry as hell. Partially because he could think such a thing, partially because he was a foot taller than her and she had to look up so high, and partially because deep inside she knew that John was right.
“Nothing, Jason’s great. He’s . . . he’s sweet and smart and . . . .and funny and cute.” She stopped herself and looked up at John again. His eyebrows were raised and his arms crossed as if to say “Oh, and this from the girl who doesn’t like Jason?”
“I . . . I mean . . .” Sam stumbled over her words.
“You mean you like him.” He said for her.
“Shut up! I do not like Jason!” She ran her hands through her hair, messing it up even more. She’d have to spend a half hour fixing all of this damage later.
“Then why are you getting so mad at me?” He laughed.
“Because it’s completely ridiculous you would even accuse me of liking him!”
“He likes you.”
“He does? Did he tell you that?” Sam asked, unable to hide her slight smirk.
“No. But I can tell.” A gentle smile played on his lips momentarily. “And by the way, if you don’t like him then why do you care?”
“Who said I cared?” She shrugged her shoulders.
“You’re smiling.” He reached out and pinched her cheek.
Sam wiggled away and quickly hid her smirk.
“Well, I care so I can gently let him know that I don’t feel the same way.” She nodded officially.
“Too bad you’d be lying to him.” John cocked a perfect eyebrow.
“Oh my God! For the last time I do not like him!” She pushed John backwards lightly and he stumbled back a few inches.
He put his hands on her shoulders and said, “I think you’re scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Two things.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Which are?”
John held up one finger. “One: you’re scared Jason doesn’t feel the same way. Which is ridiculous, because it’s obvious that he’s crazy about you.” He held up another finger. “And two: you’re scared of Craig.”
“Scared of Craig? Why would I be scared of Crai
g?” Her eyebrows pulled together.
“Easy, you’re scared he won’t let you and Jason be together.” Sam began to interrupt but John held up a hand to stop her. “Craig knows you’re the smartest one in the family and could easily get a scholarship to Harvard or Yale or Princeton or any Ivy League school. And don’t say that’s not true Sam, because you know it is. Craig also knows that you and Jason like each other, and he’s scared you’ll fall in love, give up a scholarship to be with Jason, and never have a better life than we do now”
“That’s ridiculous.” She said.
“Maybe so, but it’s true.” He shrugged.
“I hate you.” Sam said smirking ever so slightly and starting to walk away.
“No you don’t, you love me. Almost as much as you love Jason.” He made a kissy-face in her direction.
“Shut up!” Sam yelled, as she turned around, grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it at John. He ducked, but not before the pillow messed up his oh-so-precious-hair.
“Hey, Jason.” Matt said as he sat down next to him. They were in the park near Matt’s house, sitting in the wet grass.
“Hey, man.” Jason said.
“What are you doin’?” Matt held out his hand.
“Thinking.” Jason put the expected cigarette in Matt’s hand and pulled one out for himself.
“About what? Sam?” Matt asked
“Why would you say that?” Jason lit his cigarette.
“‘Cuz you’re always thinking about Sam.” Matt took the lighter from Jason and lit his own cigarette.
“No I’m not.” Jason shook his head and stuck his lighter in his back pocket.
“Course you are.” Matt smirked.
Jason didn’t answer; he was looking around the park. It was almost eleven o’ clock at night and no one else was around, the pond was still and there was only a faint light coming from the moon that was peeking out from behind the clouds.
“I’ve never actually said I like Sam.” Jason said, turning to Matt. His black hair hung in his eyes.
“Will you ever say you like Sam? ‘Cuz I know you do.” Matt asked, brushing his own overgrown bangs out of his eyes.
“You’re dying for me to say that aren’t you, kid?” Jason couldn’t help but smile.
“Well, yeah.” Matt nodded. “Cuz everyone except Sam has been able to tell you like her since you two were about twelve.”
Jason laid back on the damp grass. “Okay.” he said. “I like Sam. A lot.”
Matt smiled. “You finally admit it.” He said. “So when are you gonna tell her?”
“Tell her?” Jason nearly choked.
“Yeah, tell her.” Matt laughed.
“Probably never.”
Matt’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”
“She doesn’t like me the same way I like her.” Jason shrugged.
“You don’t know that. Besides, I think she does like you.” Matt said. Jason narrowed his eyes; Matt was pretty eager for Jason to start dating his sister. He guessed that it sort of made sense. Better for his sister to be with someone that he’s known his whole life and knows is a good guy.
“You don’t know that for sure.” Jason said.
“No, but you don’t know for sure that she doesn’t like you. But I know how you can find out.” Matt voice got brighter.
“How?” Jason asked just to humor him.
“Talk to Juliana. She is Sam’s best friend.” Matt’s young face lit up like this was the best idea in the world.
“Maybe someday.” Jason answered with a small smile.
Matt sighed. “I hope it’s someday soon.”
Jason took another puff of his cigarette and looked up at the sky where the moon had just come out from behind the clouds.
Sam sat on her comfy bed scribbling furiously in the journal she’d gotten for her sixteenth birthday. The dim overhead light didn’t do much so she wrote by the light of her beside lamp. It rested on a scratched up oak wood nightstand that had a drawer that stuck.
I can’t believe John thinks I like Jason. Why would he accuse me of that? I’ve known Jason just as long as I’ve known the rest of the guys. Since I was six years old and Mom and Dad adopted me. It’s been ten years. Besides Craig, John and Matt there are three guys I could like out of our “gang”. Jason, Shawn or Chris. So why would he pick Jason out of them? I guess because, well, Shawn spends a fair amount of his time in jail and Chris, he likes to get drunk off his ass every weekend. But they’re still good guys.
Jason’s so shy and quiet. He hardly ever says anything. Unless it’s just me, him and Matt. Or just him and Matt. He talks to Shawn sometimes, and occasionally to John. But almost anyone can talk to John; he’s easy to talk to. And when it’s just Jason and I we can talk for hours.
John even thinks that Jason likes me. He’s completely insane. Jason doesn’t like me like that and I don’t like Jason like that. We’re just really good friends, but . . . but not that good, not anything more than really good friends. Nothing more . . . that’s it.
At least, I think that’s it. I’ve known him almost my whole life, and we’ve been best friends. John and Jason are the two guys out of our “gang” that I’ve always been closest to.
Jason is sweet, smart, and funny. And cute. He understands me. I can talk to him about anything. Maybe I do like him, just a little. No, no, he’s just a friend, just . . . one of my best friends.
***
“Wake up!” The shout came from right next to Sam’s ear.
“Please tell me I’m dreaming.” Sam muttered as she rolled over in her bed.
“No, you’re not! Get up! Get up! Get up!”
“John?’
“Yes, it’s your loving big brother, John! Come on Sam, get up!” He shouted.
“Why? I’m tired, leave me alone. And why are you jumping on my bed?”
“So you’ll wake up! Come on, it’s 9:24!”
“It’s also Saturday, which is exactly why I should be asleep!” Sam yelled the last word through the covers.
“What’s today’s date?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. Go away!” She turned away from him.
“It’s June 12th! Your birthday! You’re seventeen!”
“No, I’m not. Today’s the eleventh.”
“No, it’s the twelfth! And you’re seventeen!”
Sam glanced over at the calendar hanging near the window in her room. Friday, June 11th had been crossed off. It was her birthday. She hated it when John was right. But she did like that it was her birthday.
Sam turned over and smiled at John, who had stopped jumping on the bed. She pushed her hair out of her face. “I hate it when you’re right.” She said.
He reached over and messed up her hair. “Come on, get up.” He got up and walked to Sam’s bedroom door. “Oh and by the way, happy birthday baby sis.” He said before closing her door. Sam shook her head with a grin and pushed the covers off of herself.
“John.” Matt said when he walked into the living room yawning. “Why did you make us get up at 9:30?”
“‘Cuz I’m excited.” He did a hop, skip and a jump over to the kitchen.
“It’s not even your birthday.”
“So?” He shrugged.
Matt shook his head. “Forget it.”
Sam came out into the living room brushing her hair.
“I’m up, are you happy?” She asked John.
“Yep.”
“Why’d you make me get up at 9:30?” She pulled the hair out of the brush and dumped it into the bathroom garbage pail.
“‘Cuz the guys and Juliana and Derek are coming over for a little party kinda thing, and Shawn has to go into work at 1:00, and he wanted to be able to come.”
“I don’t need a party.” Sam offered a small smile.
“It’s not a party, it’s just the guys, Juliana and Derek, and Craig’s gonna make his famous cake.”
“That’s sweet. Thanks.” She headed to her room to put the hairbrush wher
e it belonged.
“No problem. You know I love my baby sister.” He smirked.
Sam kept trying to help out in the kitchen, but Craig refused to let her. So she settled onto one of their white kitchen chairs and continued reading her book.
Soon the whole gang had arrived. Juliana and Derek came together. Juliana gave Sam a tight hug and Derek kissed her on the cheek. Sam knew that Derek sort of liked her but she had never felt that way about him.
Shawn and Chris arrived. The screen door slammed shut behind them. None of the guys ever knocked. Sam was still sitting in a chair reading, and they both hugged her from behind, making her almost jump out of her skin. They teased her saying, “Our little baby girl’s growing up.”
Then Jason came. Sam was in the kitchen with everyone else when she heard the door close.
“Hey.” She smiled seeing Jason as she walked into the living room.
“Hey.” He smiled back. Sam’s hair was down, partially hiding her face.
They met in the middle of the room. “Happy Birthday.” He said.
“Thanks.” She reached out to hug him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he wrapped his around her waist. Usually, the annual hug she got for her birthday only lasted about five seconds, but this time Jason couldn’t seem to let go of Sam and Sam didn’t want him to. She thought about that night a year ago when John had accused her of liking Jason. Maybe he was right.
Jason’s eyes were closed, but he could smell the sweet scent of Sam’s hair mingled with the scent of her perfume. He imagined himself kissing her, holding her in his arms for real.
They pulled away from each other, but not a lot. Her arms were still wrapped around his neck and his were still around her waist. Their faces were only about an inch apart.
“Hi.” Sam whispered.
“Hi.” Jason breathed back.
If, what they both were thinking was going to happen, happened, it would be Sam’s first kiss. Jason’s too.
The moment seemed to last an eternity. They leaned in closer, their lips just barely touching, brushing against each other, then . . .
“Sam!”
They jumped apart like two magnets repelling each other.