Snippet #2435720

Samuel Westhouse

After his playful exchange with Paige, Briton's snapping sobered him up. He was defensive. Sam couldn't blame him for that, he liked keeping his personal life personal, but then again, he didn't show up with various signs of physical abuse on his body at any given time. Especially not with broken skin. That was a serious problem. Thankfully, Brtion ultimately divulged his culprits. Two guys. Sam's mind jumped to calculations. Who would go after them? Nate, obviously. Nate could hold his own, and he'd probably get Oz on his team too. They'd be fine, they didn't need him. But it was the other member of their group that worried him. Violet. Sure, she was a strong girl, but he knew that she didn't know when it was a good time to fold her cards. She could get hurt going up big guys like that. Maybe he'd approach her, see if they could work things out. He didn't talk to her much, but he did watch her just as much as he did the others in the group, and he noticed some things that told a bit more than she'd probably want to divulge. But he never mentioned anything. He wouldn't unless there was something truly serious. Like Briton's problem.

After the strained exchange Nate rose and left, taking Oz with him, as did the girls. Sam decided he'd catch Violet later. He'd have to decide what to say before hand though, or it probably wouldn't come out right. Charlie urged their group, comprised of Sam, himself, and Briton, and Sam rose, sweeping the rest of the supplies he'd offered to Briton back into his bag, kicking his soccer ball up into his arms, and following the other two out to Briton's car. Charlie called shotgun, so he quietly slid into the backseat, rapping his knuckles lightly against the top of the ball. He honestly wasn't a big fan of mechanical transportation, he liked being out in the air, moving, but he didn't have enough time to run all the way home without getting seriously bedraggled. He just needed to get in and out before his mother came home. He loved her, but the less time he spent around her the better.

Instead of bouncing around impatiently in the car, as he felt the urge to do, Sam forced himself to rest his head against the back of the chair and shut his eyes, focusing on the music that was playing without really listening to it. is knee bounced lightly, but the rest of him stayed completely still. Maybe he'd just grab his stuff and disappear into the woods for a while. That sounded nice. When the car stopped it wasn't two seconds later when the back door clicked shut again. He threw in a "Later Charlie." somewhere in there before his anxious feet hit the pavement. He circled around the car, pausing at the mailbox for a second to grab a fistful of the papers within. Bills, always bills. Electricity, water, heating. Briton called out a good bye and he lifted a hand. "Thanks, bro." He responded, his voice just a bit too soft to carry very far. There was a laden silence that made Sam pause, his back to the car, and he heard the windshield squeal down.

A grudging sentence of thanks floated to him. He didn't speak a response though. He turned on his heels, pulling a small smile onto his face and waving with his fist of mail. He watched the car roll away and he sighed. Things were so complicated sometimes. Always, actually. He couldn't understand it. So many tensions, so many half-turned up graves just waiting for someone to fall in. Everyone seemed to have some kind of problem. Sam had decided long ago that he wouldn't burden the others with his shit, and he'd succeeded pretty well so far. He was ever present, but emotionally distant. Unlike Briton his troubles were buried deep and held no physical scars to betray their presence. He just seemed like a sleepy, laid back guy that didn't say much. Paige had done her share of prying, but Sam knew how to keep himself to himself. His problems didn't matter. No big deal. His job was to support his friends as well as he could until they all set off, seeking out their own lives. Maybe someday he'd get a GED, go to a community college or something, but there was no point now. It all felt sort of...worthless.

Sam pushed through the door, tossing the mail onto the table and flipping open the tap for a few seconds to get a drink of water from his cupped hand. All that was in his future for the immediate future was waiting. He was obligated to go to the stupid party, anything for Paige, but until then he had nothing to do. Just be gone before his Mother came home, because his presence made her even sadder than she usually was.