Temporary Bliss

EIGHTEEN

"I really don't want to talk about it at the moment."

"Come with me," Sam nudges my foot gently as he straightens up and moves past me, staring Vincent down. "Think you can get her textbooks for her?"

I drag my eyes to Vincent who assesses any signals or signs of protest. But there are none.

"I'll save you your seat," He pointedly looks to Sam. "Don't make me pummel your skinny ass."

Sam rolls his eyes and flicks his head before walking. I follow, keeping my head down and trying not to let anything seep out until we enter a vacant hall with a classroom thankfully not being occupied. Sam shuts and locks the door while I place my things on the bench, slouching onto it.

"What happened?"

"I'm no longer the captain of the squad," I state blandly, seeing his eyes soften with understanding. "Apparently I'm unstable and unfit to lead them so now I have to see the guidance counselor like I have problems. I don't. I can handle myself and I don't need anyone to deal with anything."

Sam bobs his head once. "You realize you are venting to me right?"

"Except you don't judge," I pause for a moment, narrowing my eyes as he leans on a desk in the front row. "At least I don't think you do . . . I shouldn't be telling you this anyways."

"So your coach is worried about you being unstable? I'm assuming that was based on others claims."

I nod. "Apparently they're concerned for my wellbeing, even though it was mostly Faye who mentioned it. On top of that betrayal, my own dad thinks I need the help."

"Why would he think that?"

"Probably because of my mother," I blurt out, expressing frustration as it arises. "He thinks its unhealthy and stupid not to have a relationship with her but I can't simply move on from being abandoned . . . then there's the obvious accident, that's already haunting me."

I bite the corner of my lip at the overshare, cautiously looking at Sam. He seems intently listening, no judgement or shock present on his face. If anything he looks content. I'm opening up to him and part of me is screaming to stop, the other just needs to dump this information to sort through it all.

"Well what's the goal at the end of it all?" He asks, tapping his fingers while processing it himself. "You get therapy to work on the issues you apparently have . . . to be back on the cheerleading squad?"

"To be captain again."

Sam nods once and stops tapping. "You could always not go and give up cheer?"

"You're joking right?" I laugh humorlessly but stop when he doesn't return the sentiment. "I'm not letting go of my role, I'm the captain for a reason."

"You don't have the same passion for cheerleading as you do for Chemistry . . ." He pushes off the table, pivoting his body towards me while his hand tents on the desk still. "I think it's merely something you use for your reputation and popularity."

"That's where you're wrong. I do enjoy it," I smile but it's not completely true. "I like the athletics, flexibility, training, all that is great . . . just not having to be the bitch that keeps everyone in line."

"You could always just do it for yourself? Not others."

"I want this though."

"You don't always get what you want," He dryly responds and I coil back, picking up on the bitterness and double meaning of his words. Sam masks it quickly but I already saw the slight resentment. "I'm just trying to provide alternatives if you don't want to go through the therapy checks."