Devil in the Details

ELEVEN: Sam-I-Am - Pt. 2

After school, Sam was waiting at her car, swirling her key chain around her fingers.

"Hey Sam my girl," Taylor said as the four of us slid inside. Then, noticing that someone was absent, added, "Where's Billy?"

"He has lacrosse practice today," she said as she buckled herself into the seat. "And thank God because I hate driving his smelly gym-soaked self home."

All of us laughed except for Lana, who had been re-reading her notes in the back seat. At this announcement, she sent me a half worried, half annoyed look.

It'll be fine, I mouthed to her. Lacrosse practice would be done in two hours max, which meant we just needed to stomach a few hours with Sam—where maybe we could relax with some popcorn and get some intel—and then intercept Billy when he got home.

But then Sam veered right instead of left on Main Street.

"Where are we going?" Lana asked, peering out the window.

"The craft store," she said, as if this were something we should have already known. "I have a few errands to run before the dance on Friday." She glanced back at us from the overhead mirror. "You guys don't mind right?"

"No," Taylor said, good-natured as always. "Not at all."

And thus began our descent into Sam Stevens madness.

I had hoped—rather naively—that we were just picking up a few things at the craft store and that it'd be an easy in-and-out process. There was a giant Halloween section right as soon as we walked in with plenty of orange and black decorations, but after a quick glance, Sam eschewed the whole section and instead opted to walk down each and every aisle. She didn't think the Halloween decorations on display were well-made enough, and that they were overpriced for the craftsmanship, so she decided she would DIY the decorations. This meant we spent over an hour debating whether she should buy this vase or that glass globe, this candelabra or that bunch of faux flowers, this shade of orange paint or that set of sponge brushes.

I glanced at Taylor to see how she was handling this, but, like a good friend, she was totally on board with this shopping trip. She pushed the cart dutifully, grinning at us as if to say, Come on, cheer up! This is fun! Only I wasn't smiling. And neither was Lana, which, to be honest, was a lot more concerning.

I could see the Devil's fingers twitching as Sam loaded all her items onto the conveyer belt at the front of the shop, and then at the last minute darted back into an aisle to grab yet another fake pumpkin.

"You sure you want to be her sister-in-law?" I joked under my breath.

Lana just shook her head and glanced down at her watch.

"Are we all set?" Lana asked when we were finally back in the parking lot and loading all the decorations into the trunk of Sam's car. Her voice was sweet, but I heard the underlying current of annoyance.

"Well," Sam said, sliding into the front seat and starting the ignition, "I really need to swing by Target..."

The shopping adventure took three hours. We hit up the craft store, Target, Walmart, Home Depot, and a Chinese grocery store (I had a sneaking suspicion that the last stop had nothing to do with the dance.)

When, at long last, we finally pulled into Sam's driveway, I was absolutely exhausted. I had never been much of a shopper, and my shopping stamina was unusually low. Lana, meanwhile, who had gotten grumpier and grumpier with each store, perked up as she climbed out of the car, her eyes alight. It was as if she could sense that Billy was inside the house, just a few feet away.