I looked at my best friend sitting in the passenger seat beside me. She was sleeping with her head resting against the window. She had long, wild, bright, box-colored red hair that hung in cute little curls which covered her eyes and the freckles on her cheeks. Her glowing sun-kissed skin made the birthmark on her shoulder almost unnoticeable. Although, if one were to look closely, they would be able to tell that it bared resemblance to a crescent moon. She was wearing a white tank-top and a pair of short jean shorts, unusual clothes for her to wear. Her long fingernails were painted black to blend in with all the dark clothing she wore at school.
“School,” I mumbled. I took my gaze off of her and looked out my window. At school, she was thought of as the scary, mean girl. I couldn’t believe that people thought of her like that. Well, actually I could believe it. When I thought about it, my best friend was a sixteen-year-old girl with a lip ring, piercings all over her ears and a tattoo. That was pretty scary and tough. But I knew that she was not really as scary as she was made out to be. I knew she cared about others; she loved to volunteer and help others that were in need. I knew that her tattoo was a breast cancer ribbon in memory of her mother whom she lost when she was 8-years-old. I knew she was a sweet and caring girl, not some scary freak.
We were on our way to volunteer at a big charity event that benefits the local animal shelter. The park that the event was taking place at was forty-five minutes away, and the person in charge wanted us at the park before 7 am. That meant that we had to get up around 5:30 this morning so we could leave our house by 6:00. I looked at the clock on my dashboard and noticed that it said 6:30. I knew that we still had at least 15 minutes until we got to the park so I started the car and drove out of the gas station.
I glanced in her direction and saw her sea-blue eyes staring back at my green ones. Then she yawned and accidentally hit me in the head when she stretched her arms. “Oops, sorry, Parker,” she apologized. “No worries, it’s cool. Did you have a nice nap?” I asked her. “Yeah,” she responded. “But sleeping in cars isn’t really my thing.”
“Sorry, Sam-I-Am, but it’s not my fault that you didn’t even get home until midnight last night.” Even though Sammy’s reputation was bad and completely unlike her real self, she still put in an effort to keep up the reputation. That meant that she partied hard and stayed out late. Usually when she was out parting, she got home late and made a lot of noise when she came in. Seeing as her parents were my legal guardians, I lived in her house and sadly had her older brother’s old room which was right next to her room. Her brother is currently in his junior year off at a college on the west coast, meaning the room was free for me to use. “Please don’t call me that name, I hate it. I’m not some weird Dr. Seuss character who’s obsessed with green eggs and ham. I don’t understand his obsession with that stuff. I’ve tried green eggs and ham, the dish isn’t anything special,” she complained. “But I’ve always called you Sam-I-Am, Sammy,” I replied with a smirk. She clearly wanted to talk about anything but this, so she changed the topic. “How much longer until we get to the park?” “About ten or fifteen minutes. Now please be quiet so that I can concentrate on the road.” I snapped. “Sorry, Sammy. I had a late night and I’m tired. I didn’t mean it.”
Ten minutes later, we made it to the park. There was a large field covered with bright green grass that seemed to go on forever. The field had many tents, tables, chairs and balloons that were scattered everywhere like a child’s toys in a play area. We went over to the volunteer table and signed in. Sammy was scheduled to run the obstacle course for the kids, and I was to run the concession stand. We said goodbye and went our separate ways. At the concession stand, I noticed a short woman with long, dark brown hair. She had hazel eyes with green flecks in them surrounded by lots of dark and heavy eye make-up.
“Are you volunteering?” she asked. I nodded my head in response. “Alright, newbie,” She snapped, “My name is Vera. Now, this is simple and easy. When a customer comes, ask them what they want, take their money, and give the customer what they want.” She walked away, leaving me to fend for myself. I called after her, “Aren’t you going to help me?” “Nope,” she replied, popping the “p.” “Well thanks for helping,” I sarcastically muttered under my breath.
Just then, a boy around my age walked up to the stand. With olive skin and dark hair, he probably had some Italian roots and he had bright blue eyes. He looked like one of those pretty boys who could make every girl fall for him.
“Just a hotdog,” He said. He handed me two bucks and I placed it in the money box. I picked up a hotdog from the tray, put it a bun, and gave it to the boy. “Thanks,” he said while walking away. That’s pretty much how the rest of my day went, people telling me what they want, them paying me and then I give them what they want, just like Vera said.
After the lunch crowd came and passed, I got bored, so I decided to visit Sammy. I turned the open sign on the stand around so that it read closed, and made my way to the obstacle course. As I got closer to the course, I noticed the boy from earlier who bought the hotdog. He was leaning against a post for one of the tents and way talking to someone. I couldn’t get a good look of who it was because hotdog boy was blocking my view of the person. Once I got closer, I realized the other person was Sammy. The hotdog boy was trying to flirt with Sammy! When I say trying, I mean he was flirting and Sammy was backing away, moving her hands in a way that said “No thank you,” I watched the scene for a minute. I can’t let him hit on Sammy, she’s my best friend, and I don’t approve of him. The only thing that made this better was that whenever hotdog boy tried to hit on Sammy, she would refuse and walk away from him. I was about to go save Sammy from hotdog boy’s obsessive flirting when Sammy slapped him clean across his face, and he grabbed her wrists. I didn’t like where this was headed, so I made my way back over there.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked hotdog boy. “Don’t you know how to treat a lady?”
Hotdog boy looked annoyed. “Of course I do, but since she just hit me, she doesn’t deserve to be called a lady.” His grip on her wrists got tighter. “Now concession stand guy, just go back to selling your little hotdogs and chips. This is none of your business.” Hotdog boy’s stare was cold and harsh, just like a rough winter storm. “Look, I don’t want any trouble,” I started. I never got to finish though. Hotdog boy tried to throw a punch at me! “Did you really just do that? Now I suggest that you take your filthy hands off my friend, or we might have some problems,” I stated coldly. He shrugged and took another swing. “That’s it, now you’re just asking for it.” I threw a punch and hotdog boy and hit him square in the face. He let go of Sammy and hit me back. That triggered the fight. Fists were swinging, heads were dodging, and punches were swinging. All because of Sammy.
“Enough, Stop it!” Sammy screamed. We both stopped fighting and looked at her. “Both of you break it up. Now, John,” she said addressing the hotdog guy. “Just leave. I’m not interested in you and I don’t want to have anything to do with you.” He tried to object, but was rendered speechless, so he gave me a look that said, “It’s not over,” and left towards the parking lot. Sammy turned to me and said, “We’re leaving. Now.”
We walked in silence to the car. I decided to lighten up the mood by nudging her with my shoulder. She looked up at me with a smile and nudged me back. We both started laughing and playfully pushing each other. She shoved me ahead of her and I turned around to shove her back.
Then it all happened so fast. One moment, Sammy was smiling and laughing. The next, she had a look of horror on her face and I was pushed into the grass. I tripped over my feet and landed face first on the ground. I heard an ear-shattering scream and I turned around. There was Sammy lying on the ground, blood surrounding her in a pool on the pavement, and a shiny black car driving away.
© Copyright 2016 GoneAroundTheBen. All rights reserved.
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