Let It Be

Chapter 10

A few days later I sat on my desk in Study Skills and watched Sam read, swinging my legs gently beneath me, just thinking. I thought about our pizza night, and how Sam had made friends with Nate.

"Sam," I finally said, confronting a topic that had been bothering me for a while now. "Why don't you ever talk to anybody?"

He looked up from his copy of Moby Dick with a puzzled expression. "I just don't."

"I mean, do you think that you're better than them?"

He blinked in surprise, and I instantly regretted even considering it. "What? No. I just don't get along with any of them."

I pointed out that he didn't think he would get along with me before he actually talked to me. "That's different," he retorted.

"How?"

Sam groaned while rolling his eyes and put his book down. "Why do I have to talk to everybody? I'm happy how I am."

"No you're not."

"And why do you say that?" he asked, his eyes suddenly gone stone through his glasses though he tried to keep his expression causal.

"Sam, just look at yourself. Anyone can tell that you aren't happy. You walk around with a bored scowl all the time, and are always by yourself. I don't see how you could be happy." He looked back down at the gory illustration of Moby Dick and Captain Ahab on his book cover and didn't respond. "What would make you happy, Sam?"

He sighed. "If I knew, Abby, trust me, I would be trying to get it."

"It makes me sad, Sam," I said genuinely.

"Don't be." I sighed again and didn't respond. "Hey, I'm happy when we're hanging out. Well, most of the time."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well, good. I'm glad."

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"Abby," Tristan called in his annoyingly arrogant voice just as I was approaching Sam to get his Calculus homework; I didn't understand it, and wanted to look over his. I glanced over at Tristan with a groan. Sam watched with a scowl.

"Hey, Tristan," I said emotionlessly as he strode importantly over to where Sam and I stood.

"Hey. So, I'm sure you've heard, but I'm throwing a Halloween party on Thursday."

"No, haven't heard anything," I lied on an angry impulse. It was all everyone was talking about, who was lucky enough to get an invitation to an infamous Tristan-hosted rager. But I wasn't going to let him in on that.

He frowned, put out. "Well, I am. My parents are going to be out of town, and some of the guys are bringing a keg. It's going to be awesome."

I shifted my weight, standing with one hand on my hip, annoyed. "If Coach finds out that you guys are drinking, won't he kick you off the team?"

"Nah, Coach is cool. He's never enforced that rule."

"District policy, isn't it?" I pointed out.

"Coach can have a bit of a blind eye when it comes to his star players."

"How lucky for them."

"I wanted to let you know that you're invited."

I didn't even think before I responded. The fact that it wasn't a lie was an added bonus. "Sorry, can't make it."

"Really?" he sort of purred, twirling his finger in my hair again. "I'd really like you to come."

"No thanks." I pulled his finger out of my hair and took a step back.

"Still playing hard to get?"

"I'm not playing anything, Tristan. I don't like you." I kind of surprised myself at how I just sort of blurted it, but I was getting mad.

Tristan just smiled secretly. "I can wait for you to come around. My offer still stands. We can still hook up, beautiful."

I knew exactly what he was insinuating. How dare he think that I'd sleep with him? Oh my gosh, I hated him so much. How dare he think of me like that at all?

I just glared at him in disgusted bewilderment, wondering how someone could be as low and self-absorbed as him. He just smiled, swiped at my cheek, and walked off.

I watched him go, revolted. I wrinkled my nose and stuck my tongue out at his back, something I had learned from Mason.

Sam didn't say anything, just glared at Tristan's back. I was glad, almost, but kind of disappointed that Sam hadn't said anything as the scene unfolded. Maybe it was a good thing, though. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I couldn't defend myself.

Oh well. I shrugged mentally and forgave him for not sticking up for me. "That was weird," Sam finally said.

"Yeah, seriously. He's such a jerk. I hate him."

"His loss."

I just rolled my eyes and shook my head while the bell rang.

Great, now I was going to be tardy.

Stupid, stupid Tristan.

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Sam bit into one of his three sandwiches as we chatted at lunch. He was my opposite with eating habits. He could eat and eat and eat and still be hungry and it always amazed me. His grocery bills must have been astronomical. "What do you say we have a horror movie fest for Halloween?" he said, zooming in for another huge bite.

"I say that sounds awesome, but I can't."

He scowled, forgetting the food. "Going to Tristan's party after all?"

I just laughed. Yeah, right. That was the last thing I would ever be doing. "No, I'm working at a haunted house," I corrected. "Finally, someone appreciates my skill of being able to sit very, very still for a long period of time." I demonstrated, cocking my head and staring at him, not moving, not blinking.

"Very creepy," he approved.

"Perfect for the occasion. And I'm getting paid twenty bucks, so it's all good."

"Twenty bucks, whoopee."

"Hey, man, twenty bucks is twenty bucks. I'm making a brand new milkshake-and-fries fund."

"And since when do you eat?"

I had to fight to not let a frown appear on my face. I hadn't thought he had really noticed. Or you know, if he had noticed, he hadn't paid any attention to it. Eh.

I shrugged, a good-natured smile acting on my lips. "Oh, believe me, when people aren't around, I pig out."

"So that's how you got so fat."

I stared blankly at the ground, not responding, the smile gone. No acting this time. He had meant it as a joke, referring to the fact that I had lost more weight since joining the volleyball team, but it wasn't a joke to me.

He picked up on the awkwardness fast. He skipped over it quickly, and I was all too willing to let it slip past.

What made it even worse was that despite the recent weight loss, my tummy pudge was still there.