Bad Influence [Gerri]

[Samuel Rixon]

June was a good month for a pyrokinetic. Namely, the heat factor. Much like a lizard, Sam couldn’t survive subzero temperatures. Not on his own. He had to have layers upon layers of clothing, and even then, his exposure to the cold had to be limited if he didn’t want hypothermia. (He’d had it once. When his older brother had locked him out of the house. It hadn’t even been that cold outside. Bastard side effects.)

But June was fantastic. He could wander around without a hoodie on. He could wear his beloved board shorts again. There were numerous reasons he liked June. Unfortunately for him, the draw of the weather far outweighed his desire to go to classes. It wasn’t like he was in shape to graduate any time soon anyway, so why not enjoy his time at school? So, the June afternoon found one pyrokinetic slacker lying by the pond. His backpack was currently serving as a pillow, and he was ignoring the presence of the koi in the water. Water breathers. Yuck.

He had an open box of cookies sitting beside him. If he was nice, he’d be breaking off crumbs to feed the fish. And, had they been, say, squirrels, he would have fed them. Instead, he’d grip a handful of grass and toss it into the peaceful water, sending the fish scattering. ... It could have been worse. He could have been throwing rocks. Ember wasn’t even here to yell at him over it. ... Then again, she’d probably yell at him later, when she found out he’d skipped math. Still, what she didn’t know for now wouldn’t hurt her.

He tossed another handful of grass into the water, and shoved a cookie into his mouth. This was so much better than learning algebra. ... Or fractions.

[Germaine Sharpe]

What could be better than an afternoon gym class in June? An afternoon gym class in June with soccer as the current unit, of course. In fact, gym was Anni’s favorite class, and the only one she excelled in (not that that meant much for a class where you basically got a hundred as long as you showed up in tennis shoes). Germaine was delighted. She was decked out in her usual athletic gear, a soccer jersey and shorts, as well as with her hair up in a pony tail and a headband to keep loose strands out of her eyes.

But alas, one of her less passionate teammates had to be a killjoy. It was the middle of a heated game when Gerri moved to pass the ball to the boy. Of course, she got carried away and kicked it with a little more force than was necessary, but he didn’t have to chose to let it fly right by into the trees and out of sight instead of stopping it with his face. Jerk. So really, she didn’t mean to waste the last ten minutes this far away from the field searching for the lost ball. The darn thing was still missing.

“Stupid ball. Where could it have gone?” she whined aloud to herself while wrestling with some thicket. After a few minutes, she moved on to the next clump of shrubs, and so on, to no avail. There wasn’t much else she could do but continue to wander around campus until she found it. Where was a clairvoyant when you needed one?

As she got closer to the pond, she noticed a older looking teenage boy lying by it. Oh! Maybe he’s seen the ball! She thought before running towards him.

“’Scuse me!” Anni shouted a moment later (which was really unnecessary considering she was standing right next to him by then), “But have you see—“ She cut off mid sentence when she saw the box sitting on the ground. “Hey, what’s that next tah—OHMEEGOSH COOKIES!”

Gerri practically threw herself at the ground and army-crawled closer to the box, eyes transfixed on the tasty treats. Yeah, she looked like a fool. Yeah, she didn’t know this guy. But for a cookie? Totally worth it. “Coooookiiiieeeesss,” she cooed. “Can I have one? Pleeeeaaaaassseeee?”

[Samuel Rixon]

If Gerri happened to be asking Sam what could possibly be better than gym, well… he had at least a dozen answers for that. He hated gym. Hell, he could barely run a mile without feeling like his lungs were on fire. His idea of gym class conduct was generally following the ball in soccer or football, or, if he really didn’t feel like moving, faking an injury. It had worked, for a little while. But there were only so many sprained ankles you could fake in a semester. Now, he just sulked and put in as little effort as possible. The only time he legitimately got to opt out was when he’d broken his wrist pulling off a moronic stunt with Vincent. That, or if their teachers thought it was a good idea to play tackle rugby in the snow. Pyrokinetics and snow just didn’t go together.

He probably would have liked the student that had let the ball go past him. Because he’d do the exact same thing, and likely give the kicker a funny look. Why would you try so hard in gym? He didn’t get it. Then again, it was probably for the same reasons that Ember insisted that he had to start running with her. Something about getting in shape. He’d stopped listening halfway through.

He would have been content to just lie there in the heat of the sun, throw grass at the fish (his goal was to completely cover the pond with grass, if he didn’t get bored first), and eat cookies. He was alright being on his own. It meant he didn’t have Vin shooting insults at him, or Ember telling him he needed to eat better, and exercise more. So when he heard the voice, he half sat up to see what was going on.

What he saw was a girl that couldn’t be much older than twelve. She was actually pretty cute, for a kid. He grinned and lifted a hand lazily in greeting. “Hey, girlie.” Her rapid topic change didn’t affect him all that much, because, well, one of his best friends was a champion at it. He just let out a low chuckled at her exclamation. Even better was her drop to the floor, and the crawling.

“Uh. Sure, kiddo.” He picked up the box and held it out to her. “Where’d you escape from?” She looked like a gym runaway, but girls seemed to like wearing athletic gear around the school now. … Yes, he paid attention. Sue him.

[Germaine Sharpe]

Certainly Sam’s lack of gym passion would have made her sad. It was, frankly, the only part of school she actually cared about. There was nothing about it that had to do with getting fit or staying fit, because Gerri never had a problem with that. She just loved sports. But the girl had also met a large variety of people in her day, and knew that not everyone shared her passion. So she would get over it, especially now that he gave her cookies.

Gerri absolutely loved cookies. Loved. Once you gave her a cookie, you basically bought a lifetime pass for friendship. Out right offering Gerri a box cookies? Bad idea. She didn’t even care what type they were, and didn’t bother to ask. She just snatched up as many as she could fit in her petite hands and started stuffing them in her mouth like they were being discontinued. It’d make her wicked sick later, but she was thirteen, she didn’t care.

“Ffank ‘oo,” she said gleefully through a mouthful, spitting crumbs in all directions. She swallowed the mess before continuing and sat up.

“I’m Germaine Annika Sharpe, but you can call me Anni.” Another cookie gone. “Uhm, escape? Oh! Yeah. I guess I was in gym. We were playing soccer, but I lost the ball. You haven’t seen in have you?” She glanced around and shoved another three cookies in her mouth, pausing when she saw all the grass in the pond.

“Hmff…Fwhy’s there grash ‘n da wahfer?” She rolled over to the water’s edge and stared at one of the blades. First emptying her hands by shoving the last of the cookies in her mouth, she reached into the water and picked up the piece of grass. She watched as water drops rolled off the ends and back into the pond. The movement enticed her. Oh, wait, but there was still that other guy here. Gerri stuck the blade to her forehead, which somehow managed to actually stay there for about five seconds before it slid down, flipping off the tip of her nose and landing in its rightful place on the pond surface. She tracked the thing cross-eyed for its entire trip then finally looked back to address him.

“Sho…wcho are ‘oo anyway?” There was cookie stuck in between her cheeks and teeth, giving her a chipmunk appearance and making it hard for her to talk. "And schooldn't 'oo be in clash?" She wasn't trying to sound like a hall monitor, she just hadn't fully grasped the concept of ditching yet and was curious.

[Samuel Rixon]

Sammy’s lack of gym passion only really seemed to annoy Ember. He was just more interested in video games, and eating junk. Neither of which required a huge amount of effort. Unless he was wrestling with Vincent during yet another MarioKart war. Though his metabolism still worked in his favor, and he didn’t look out of shape, well… don’t ask him to run a marathon. He’ll die of a heart attack. He’d like to make it to his twenties, thanks.

Likewise, Sammy liked cookies too. Anything to do with sugar, really. Cookies had just been handy when he’d left his dorm this morning. He had planned to eat them in math, before it became a better idea to eat them outside. If it made a difference, they were Rainbow Chips Ahoy cookies. The only ones worth eating, most of the time. He grinned when she pulled out a handful before sticking his own hand back in and grabbing two more.

“Welcome, pipsqueak.” Sam’s an affectionate guy. He’ll bestow nicknames on anyone, and for the most part, they were nice enough. “Ya know, ya kinda look like a hamster when you do that.” His sisters were nothing like her. Granted, they were all older than him, but he didn’t remember them ever acting like this. If they had, he might have though they were cool.

He blinked at her name. Holy long. No wonder she offered a nickname. Not that he’d strictly adhere to her given name. “Cool. Nice to meetcha, Anni.” He gave her a lazy salute. His interest was perked when she said she’d escaped from gym. “Nice one! I gotta try that one next time.” Not that anyone would actually pass him the ball in the first place for him to lose. “Nah, haven’t seen the ball. But the school’s got lots.” In other words, don’t worry about it. He wasn’t.

Growing up with as many siblings as he’d had, and being an expert in translating Vincent’s slurred speech, he didn’t have a huge issue translating Anni. He shrugged. “I was throwin’ it. Keeps the fish away. I was gonna cover the whole thing, but… it’s too big.” He watched as she leaned in, realizing that he really was a good brother. Sometimes. If Anni was one of his older siblings, he might have pushed them in. And if it was his younger brother, he’d be in the water faster than Bryan could blink. But… Anni was too cute for that. He just grinned when she stuck the grass to her forehead. “Cute. I like it.” Please note, Sam’s not a creeper. He’s a nice guy. He honestly thought Anni was cute. In the fluffy, baby animal kind of way. Not like… EmberCute.

“Me? I’m Sammy. … Well, Samuel Joshua Rixon, if ya wanna be formal ‘n shit, but Sammy works. … Or Sam. Or… whatever. I got a friend that calls me Charmander, too.” He smirked at her cheeks. “Ya totally look like a hamster or a squirrel or somethin’.” As for why he was in class? He shrugged and stretched lazily, laying back down on his backpack. “Nah. Math’s for suckers. It’s too nice to be in class.” Yes, Anni. Sam’s going to teach you about the great art of ditching.

[Germaine Sharpe]

On the contrary, Gerri was not a big fan of video games (although, as soon to be seen, she had no problem with gorging on junk food as long as it wasn’t of the greasy variety). There was no danger of this girl dying from a heart attack anytime soon. Not due to physical activity anyway. In fact, she would love to run a marathon, and her friends would probably be equally annoyed by her willingness to run for the sole purpose of running as Ember was with Sam’s laziness. Because God knows she would try to drag them along to keep her company.

Anyway, she had to agree on his junk food sentiment. For such an athletic child, she enjoyed many an artery-clogging snack, as evident in her large consumption of cookies. Chocolate chip wasn’t her favorite (she has recently informed me that it’s macadamia nut), but there’s nothing like bonding over a (few) good chocolate chip cookie(s). She wasn’t going to be a picky eater when it came to cookies.

If her mouth wasn’t stuff full of cookies at the time, she would have frowned or pouted at Sam’s given nickname. “Pipsqueak” wasn’t exactly a flattering title, albeit disserved considering her rodent-like appearance. She simply shrugged when he told her she looked like a hamster and continued to do her best at chewing the sugary clump, which in turn only made her look more like a hamster.

Yeah, Anni introduced herself with her full name every time she met someone new, even if it was a little long. There was just something about it that made her want to say it all. But in meeting so many people, she had realized that a nickname was always best included somewhere in the mess. His reaction to her question caused her to give him a quizzical look and cock her head to the side. “Try that one next time?” she repeated. “I didn’t do it on purpose, silly.” She just shrugged. “But, you’re right. I’ve been lookin’ for ten whole minutes and haven’t found it yet. Oh well.” Ten minutes was a very long time for this particular kid. Her lips twisted into a grin as she looked for the ball for the last time, and she shrugged again before eating more cookies.

Gerri laughed at his reasoning. “Ffat’sh shilwy. You’re shilwy.” For the moment, she was very much enjoying the company of her new friend, but if Sam had pushed her into the pond, Gerri would have been very upset and probably never spoken to him ever again. So it was a good thing he decided to be a good older brother. She returned his grin when he said her grass blade act was cute. “Ffanksh.” No worries, she would never think Sammy’s a creeper. Then again, Gerri was so scatter-brained she probably couldn’t pick a creeper out of a line up if one had slapped her on the ass.

“Sammy,” she sung his name, “I like it. Although, I do like Charmander too, but I think I’ll stick with Sammy.” Gerri grinned briefly, showing off her cookie spotted teeth, but frowned at Sammy when he said she looked like a squirrel. That was the second time her referred to her as a rodent. She quickly wiped the excess cookie away with her tongue. “Mhm,” she agreed between lip smacks, “It is much better to be outside than in a stuffy classroom. But I’ve never just…not gone to class before. Sounds much more fun. Don’t you get, like, detention or something if you do that, though?” She crawled back over to his sit by his side as she asked her question. Then she stretched her arms over her head, squeaking slightly as she did so, before settling down with her hands resting on the back of her neck.

[Samuel Rixon]

Sadly, to Sam, video games were in the same category as oxygen, or water. He needed them to live. It was the same with junk food. Some day, the poor bastard’s metabolism was going to catch up with him, and he’d be sorry. For now, he got to be relatively skinny. He just couldn’t run a mile to save his life. You know that adage about not needing to outrun the bear, you just need to outrun your friend? Make friends with Sammy. He’ll be bear chow every time.

Physical activity for Sammy wasn’t soccer or basketball, or even running laps. It was something that really isn’t all that appropriate for him to be thinking about around Gerri’s age, but he’s telling me it must be said. Sex. It’s about all he can take without falling over and dying. Ask him to run laps or play football, and he’s more likely to fake an injury, or fake sick. Anything to get out of it. Ask him to hop in bed, and he doesn’t stop to think. Yes, his views on ‘exercise’ are seriously skewed. Ignore him.

Giving nicknames was something that the Idiot Brigade was good at. As a founding member, Sam’s no exception to that rule. He had flattering names, and insulting names (mostly used for Vincent). He also had stupid names, like Pipsqueak. It was something he’d called his little brother when they were younger, and it seemed to suit Gerri.

Full names weren’t Sam’s favorite thing. Sure, they were handy when he was yelling at someone, because who wasn’t in trouble when first, middle, and last name were screamed out? He wasn’t fond of his full name, but he’d felt it was only polite to give it to Gerri after she’d given him hers. He so rarely even went by ‘Samuel’, let alone the rest of it. When she cocked her head, he grinned at her. “Too bad. You shoulda. It’s a good one.” He rolled his shoulder. “I gotta use it next time, ‘coz I don’t think I can fake any more sprained ankles.” That, and he’s got zero credit with the school nurse. He’d just be sent right back to class. Skipping was so much easier.

At least he got a laugh out of the kid. Sammy flashed a grin at her. “Thanks.” He didn’t really mind being called silly. It was true enough. At least he wasn’t high. He might have been sillier, and no one needs to witness that. Least of all Gerri. “I get a lot sillier though.” Oh Sam, no. Don’t tell Gerri about your awful habits. He chuckled at her muffled thanks. “You’re welcome, Pipsqueak.” Great. The nickname is stuck. Sorry, kiddo.

Sammy had never had a younger sister. But if he did, he’d have wanted her to be like Gerri. (In fact, could he trade Bryan in for her?) “Yeah. I like it too. Samuel sounds all ‘stick up the ass’ but Sammy’s all cool an’ stuff. … And I think Anni’s a cute name.” He didn’t really notice the cookie bits in her teeth, because really, that required focus, and he lacked focus. And he was probably no better off. Her questions made her smile, mostly because she was right. He grinned and offered her the box of cookies again as she came closer. “Eh, it depends if you get caught. But it’s totally worth it, even if ya do get caught.” He sat up a little, to look at Gerri in a mock-serious fashion. “You wanna try it?” … Somehow, I think this counts as kidnapping.

[Germaine Sharpe]

Sports were high up on Gerri's list of things needed to live. She might have lacked the wonderful metabolism that her pyrokenetic peer relied on, but that worked out fine for her. As it was, the girl was a stick and in great shape, and while keeping trim wasn’t a top priority for her today, she’ll be thanking herself in a few years. If it weren’t for her affinity for sports, she’d be far chubbier. Future eating disorder candidate? Not this girl.

No, sex was definitely not on the list of physical activities the girl participated in. Thank goodness. The very mention of such activities would send her into a fit of immature giggles, and she still hesitated to say the word as if it were taboo. Innocence is a wonderful thing. She’ll gladly stick with soccer, thank you very much. Although, if she’s going to take up skipping class like she will soon be tempted to do, Gerri will be playing a lot less soccer than usual.

Not one to give names, Gerri was never the person in a group to start dishing them out. It wasn’t that she didn’t like nicknames—when they were offered, she gladly used them—it was just something she wasn’t good at doing. Blame it on the lack of creativity if you will, that would be as good a reason as any.

Gerri’s parents rarely used her full name when she was in trouble, although there were those few times when she pulled a scheme so nuts it was required. While she now included her nickname, it never occurred to her that her extended introduction was weird. Long, maybe, but nothing out of the ordinary. Then again, nothing the girl ever did struck her as out of the ordinary, no matter how crazy she acted. She just nodded at the information he was feeding her. Even though she didn’t quite know it, those tips would come in handy later. She had yet to take advantage of the fake sprained ankle. Of course, that probably wouldn’t last very long before she’d have to switch to the direct skipping alternative.

The last thing the boy would have to worry about was getting a laugh out of the little thirteen-year-old. She was happy child, easygoing, and very quick to giggle. In fact, she giggled when he thanked her for calling him silly. “You’re welshcome.” The comment about him getting even sillier made her tilt her head, and the temptation to question him was too much for Gerri to ignore. “Shwat do yah mean by tha’?” Oh dear, why couldn't she just keep her questions to herself? Then he used that nickname again. Pipsqueak. The girl fought back a discontented scowl. She wasn’t necessarily fond of the name, but she could get use to it, especially since it was coming from Sammy.

Just like Sammy never had a younger sister, Gerri was the oldest child in her family and never had an older brother. If it were possible for her to trade places with the teen’s brother, she would jump at the chance. She was glad to hear that Sammy thought her nickname was cute, grinning again despite the fact that she didn't like being called a squirrel. Luckily, even if he had noticed the cookie residue, Gerri was a shameless person and wouldn’t have minded. That’s why she quickly snatched up another cookie when the box was offered to her again. “Oh, yes! Definitely,” she answered his question eagerly. Was this a form of kidnapping? Maybe, but the girl was coming willingly, nonetheless. "Is it difficult? Tell me everything you know."

Gerri was beyond doomed.

[Samuel Rixon]

For Sam to live, he needed a steady stream of being with his friends, junk food, video games, alcohol, and weed. And sex. Minus the weed, your typical teenage boy. He would rather laze his way through life than do things like sports. He didn’t even like sports video games. It was much more fun to play war games, or Tetris. Or that one time he was high and had thought Viva Piñata was a great idea. And it had been at the time. Lots of pretty colors. But no candy. That had depressed him.

Really, Sam was one of those kids that still giggled at words like “penis.” Maturity was not his forte. But he had an interest in sex. However, if he became protective of Gerri, anyone that said “sex” around her would be likely to get decked. Say what you will about his personality and his habits, Sam was a protective guy, and a good friend. Especially to girls.

Sammy was in trouble enough to know what a full name meant. Hell, ‘Samuel’ alone was enough to make him wince. His teachers called him that enough. As soon as the ‘Joshua’ was added on, he was really in trouble. Thus far, he’d managed to avoid the middle name at Hammel. That pleasure was reserved for his mother and oldest sisters. He’d stick to Sam, or Sammy, thank you very much. But Anni, she amused him. She was cute, and innocent, and totally more adorable than his own sisters. He might have to adopt her. Any little sibling was better than Bryan. Even a girl. A girl he was planning to teach all his class avoiding, deviant tricks to.

The pyro was a boy that liked being silly. Even better was when someone actually noticed. Granted, it was hard not to notice the idiot in the back of the classroom that broke into ridiculous songs with his friends, or shouted out obscene answers that nobody wanted to hear. Of course, Gerri’s question made him grin. Oh Sam, please don’t. Gerri does not need to know about your awful, illegal habits. “Uh...” Oh look, he’s thinking. He’s actually thinking about what Gerri might do with this knowledge. “I um... smoke stuff. Makes life fun.” He gave her a crooked grin, like he was proud of himself for telling her. At least he wouldn’t be offering the stuff to her. Gerri was more “protectable” than “corruptible” in his mind. Not that it would stop him from teacher her how to skip class. “’Course, alcohol makes you act stupid too.” He paused. “... Don’t drink. Or smoke. It’s bad for ya.” Nice, Sam.

If he could have, Sam would have gladly traded Bryan for Gerri. He’d known her all of... what? Less than ten minutes? And already he liked her better than Bryan. He was also thrilled that she was agreeing to skipping class with him. Gym, he was an expert at skipping. Faked sprained ankles, faked stomach cramps, and all out just not attending. Grabbing a cookie and jamming it in his mouth, Sam sat up and tried to look serious. “’Kay. So, the best way t’ get outta class is totally to fake sick. But sometimes I just skip that part and just don’t go. Y’just avoid the class. I’m suppose’ta be in math right now, right? So I just didn’t go.” He grinned. “I came out here to piss off the fish instead.” Because that’s a good use of your time. “It’s easy.”

[Germaine Sharpe]

At least Sammy didn’t have to worry about being mature around Anni, because they were probably equally matched in that department and his lack of it would go unnoticed. If anything, it would just make the girl feel more like she was hanging out with someone her age and less like she was hanging out with someone on the verge of adulthood. But mature or not, Gerri needed a protective older brother figure in her life, especially considering she was on the dawn of her teenage years and void of one at the moment. She was the eldest child in her family. It is for that reason that she liked to think she could protect herself, but the reality was she couldn’t (seriously, if she was smart enough to know better, she probably wouldn’t be here talking to Samuel Rixon, of all people, about ditching class). Hopefully she’ll grow to appreciate the protection instead of resent it, like many an under appreciative girl.

The problem with Gerri was that even when she got into trouble, she’d fret about it for the ten or twenty minutes she spent in her room or in detention afterward, then shrug it off and move on in life. Calling out her full name had little to no greater effect on the girl. Punishment didn't go very far in teaching her a lesson. Even so, innocent is a good word to describe her. She was a decent and well behaved child, so it was rare that she got in trouble for actually doing something bad, and more often was grounded for doing something outrageously weird. Normal wasn’t exactly in her nature. It was a miracle that in the year Gerri had spent at Hammel that she managed to avoid getting into any eccentric adventures. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and once she had Sammy’s deviant tricks to use, it would only be a matter of time.

“Smoke stuff?” she repeated, a hint of confusion in her voice. Gerri might not have been the sharpest crayon in the box, but she was knowledgeable enough to know that “stuff” meant something not of the cigarette variety. Of course, in the few lectures she had heard, fun usually wasn't one of the words used to describe said stuff. She mostly heard negative things like “it kills your brain cells”, or “it destroys your memory”. Then there was the whole alcohol thing, which was more of helpful tips like “don’t drink and drive” than the health concern side of it. What she didn't understand was the conflict between what Sammy was saying and what her parents had told her, and what really confused her was Sammy saying to do neither when he apparently did both. That was one thing in particular she needed clarification on. “If they’re so bad, why do you drink and smoke?” She was rightfully curious as to how that contradiction worked.

The thirteen-year-old would have given up her cherished position as the eldest child in the family if it meant Sammy could be her big brother. Likewise, she couldn’t wait to learn about skipping. When Sammy moved to start his instruction, Anni took on a serious expression of her own and folded her hands on her lap like this was some kind of etiquette course (which it technically was, in a backwards sort of way). She nodded at his quick explanation, a grin appearing on her face when she realized she was, in fact, ditching already. “Right! Like what I’m doing now for gym,” she exclaimed, gesturing in the direction of the athletic fields. “Easy peasy, yes indeed…sy.” The girl giggled awkwardly at her failed rhyme, before asking more questions from her every growing list.

“So is,” she paused before cussing, something she wasn’t accustomed to doing, “pissing off fish all you do? There’s gotta be other things. What about your friends? Do they skip with you? Can I skip with you sometime? Other than now, I mean.” Because spending more time with Sammy was something she definitely wanted to do.

[Samuel Rixon]

Maturity was not a word found in Samuel Rixon’s vocabulary. He lacked maturity at the best of times. Toilet humor? Fart jokes? At the top of his list of ‘Things That Are Funny.” Really, Gerri could find countless teenagers at Hammel that were better company than Sammy. Smarter, more mature, and ones with much better habits. Skipping class and doing drugs really wasn’t advisable to anyone. Sam kills enough of his own brain cells. He doesn’t need to help others do the same. Really, he doesn’t. Especially little girls. Especially little girls he wanted to protect from the guys like Vincent that prowled Hammel. Yeah. He had a brother complex. Too bad it didn’t translate to Bryan. But fear not, young Gerri. Sammy here will protect you. From everything but himself.

Sam… was far from well behaved. Poor Gerri had found herself quite a role model with this one. He was loud, he swore, and he had terrible, terrible habits. He didn’t think twice before punching any one of his friends, or yelling something obnoxious. Of course, if anyone tried to hit Gerri, they’d have one angry pyro on their hands. Why he was feeling so protective, he wasn’t so sure. But girls were pretty and delicate. They needed someone to look out for them. Much as he had ideas of keeping the young girl innocent, hanging around with him would not keep her innocent for long. Skipping class, anyone?

Oh dear. Here we go. Sam quirked a little smirk at her question, scratching the back of his neck in an awkward manner. “Yeeeaaah.” Of course, Gerri would be right. It did kill brain cells. It did destroy your memory. Not that it stopped the pyro from partaking. This would be harder to explain. “Weeelllll… because… it’s… fun?” Oh, clever, Sammy. He shrugged. “I know I shouldn’t do it. But it’s kinda hard to stop. ‘Specially the smokin’. It’s just… fun.” He turned to weed when he was stressed, or sad, or happy, or drunk. Dr. Neville had once told him that if he needed a hit to get through the day, he’d have a problem. He wasn’t there. Yet. “But I’m older ‘n you, so it’s okay for me to do it.” Logic. Sam lacks it.

“Exactly!” He grinned, happy that she caught on so far. “It’s totally easy. As long as you don’t fake the same stuff twice.” Because seriously, seven sprained ankles in a matter of a few months was only so believable. “Coz they kinda bust you for that.” Sam has no credit with Hammel’s medical team. Naturally, if he was really hurt, he would be in trouble. He really needs to read The Boy Who Cried Wolf.

He didn’t mind Gerri’s questions, and even copped a grin at them. “Nah. Just when I’m bored. Coz fish are stupid. And ugly. But me ‘n my friends, we do lots. We stole a boat the other week by the lake in town. And tipped it.” He scowled there, mostly because he’d ended up with a cold after that little adventure. “An’ we play Harry Potter on the grounds. An’ we have movie nights an’ video game nights an’ drink an’… yeah. We have fun.” He stopped himself before he decided to announce that he also happened to have a very physical relationship with his best friend. “Sometimes they skip with me. My friend Manson skips a ton. He hates class too.” He wouldn’t mind if Gerri tagged along. So long as Vincent kept away from her. “’Course you can! It’s fun. Lots of fuckin’ fun.” And he offered her the bag of cookies again. Company, warmth, and cookies. Life was good.

[Germaine Sharpe]

No doubt the girl could find a better, more morally adept teenager to be friends with and follow around. Unfortunately, Sammy was the first one she happened to meet with cookies and good will to draw in her attentions. Not that she cared what supposedly bad things he did. Her parents had warned her not to hang out with people who smoked, drank, and pressured her into things she didn’t want to do, but she could tell Sammy was a nice person. Besides, he was telling her not to do those things, which made him different from the sort of kid her parents didn’t want her around. Or so she thought, anyway.

Things might have been a different story if Germaine had known about the other bad habits that made Sammy so well known by the Hammel faculty and older students. Punching friends? Obnoxious yelling? These weren’t things she would have found impressive or respectable, and had she known about such things, she probably would never have approached him. Well, except for the fact that he had cookies. Nothing would have kept her away from scarfing down cookies.

Even if Gerri knew the basic facts about the negative effects of smoking weed, she was still just a kid, no less impressionable than a lump of damp clay. Sammy’s response wasn’t exactly the best way to go, because telling her it was fun to drink and smoke pot was a terrible way to deter her from those bad habits. All she got from his answer was that it was fun and addictive, neither of which sounded so bad to the naïve thirteen-year-old. She didn’t have many down days, and the few she had definitely did not required herbal remedies, but what her new mentor was saying wasn’t dissuading her either. Especially not his last statement. “Oh!” She shrieked, finally feeling like she had some understanding of what he was telling her. “So I can do it when I get to be your age!” No, Gerri. No.

The fact that Sammy was made happy by her epiphany made the girl happy herself, and she nodded at his last word of advice. “Okay, then. I’ll be extra careful,” she assured him, with emphasis on the extra. He probably shouldn’t get his hopes up, though. She was likely to screw up at some point, because there was no way she was going to keep track of which excuses she used when, and then she’d probably end up losing all credit herself. That was pretty bad, considering her power, but Germaine wasn’t thinking of the consequences of that now.

She eagerly listened to his answers, clinging to every word. It did sound fun. Well, not really the movies or video games, but the rest of it sounded great to the thirteen-year-old. “That’s so cool!” She fawned, her mouth gaping. If she wanted to hang out with Sammy before, she needed to now. “You’re friends sound great. Can I meet them? Can I?” Gerri was practically bouncing where she sat in anticipation of all the fun they could have together. There were still plenty of other questions to be asked, though, and she took the offered cookie before moving on. “So what about your power? I dunno what you can do, but can you use them to skip? I was thinking…” she said, trailing off at the end. She did have a plan for using her powers, albeit a poor one because it involved trying to melt a hole in the wall of a classroom which was neither a good nor a realistic idea. Not to mention all the trouble she would get in for damaging a school building.

[Samuel Rixon]

Cookies were probably not the best food of choice to drag out onto the grounds. Considering how easily kids were bribed away with the sweet things. It had been easy enough to steal Gerri away from gym class with them. Sam was still a kid in that regard. Offer him food, and he was yours forever. Well, junk food. Dangle a carrot on a stick and he’ll run the opposite direction. Offer him chips or candy or booze (or better yet, weed), and he’d be yours forever. As it was, it seemed it was him doing the bribing, but at least he hadn’t meant to bribe Gerri away from class.

Punching and yelling were just part of who Sam was. Part of it was growing up with what seemed like a dozen siblings at times. There was fighting, and yelling, even now, when the youngest of the herd was fifteen and really ought to know better. Sadly, Bryan did know better. It was still Sam that was the instigator of most of the wars that went on within the Rixon household. I never claimed he was mature.

Sadly, Sam had a habit of trying to rope his friends into smoking with him. He fully endorsed the recreational use of drugs. As Dr. Neville had once told him, if he couldn’t face the day without a hit, he had a problem. And that was just it. He didn’t need the hit. But it helped things along. As it was, at the moment he wasn’t under the influence. Unless sugar and stupidity count as influences. He glanced at the girl at her sudden ‘oh!’ and arched an eyebrow. ... Oh. Oops. “No no no no no no! I didn’t mean... shit.” Yes, he cussed around younger kids. “No. As long as you’re younger than me, you can’t do it.” Logic, meet Sam.

Extra careful. Even doing his best at being extra careful, Sam got caught more often than not. It was hard when you were the most likely culprit behind a fire, or the idiot that was skipping (in a manly! way, of course) down the hallway singing the latest irritating song. Currently, Sam and the Idiot Brigade’s favourite had to be The Waffle Song. So as likely as it was for Gerri to screw up... well... chances are, Sam would be screwing up right alongside her. His excuses as to why he wasn’t in class had gotten wilder and wilder the longer he’d tried to weasel out of lessons, and in gym, it was always, always a sprained ankle. He needed to come up with something better.

The pyro couldn’t rightly complain about Gerri’s attention. It was rare that someone thought he was actually cool. Moronic? Retarded? That stoner kid? Oh yeah, he heard all those. But cool? That was rare. “Yeah? You think so?” Sam couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He was cool. ... And then Gerri dropped the question about his friends. Now, Ember, Horus, they were safe. But Vincent... not so much. Sammy bit his lip, contemplating his answer for a moment. “Some of them... but not the gothy one, ‘kay? He’d probably...” What, Sam? “... Just no. Bad idea. But a couple of them, you can meet. I betcha they’d like you.” Ember would, for sure. And he was happy when the conversation was steered to powers. “Me? I can’t use ‘em to skip. My friend Ember could, but she doesn’t. She controls time. But I... can do... this!” He brought one hand up and snapped his fingers – something he’d been trying to master for ages. A few tiny sparks appeared. He scowled and tried again. Much like learning how to work a Bic lighter, it took a few tries, and a lot of sparks, before finally, he produced a small flame. “See? What about you? What can you do?” He was always nosey about others’ powers. His... were pretty easy to distinguish. Just wait for him to accidently light something up.

[Germaine Sharpe]

Even growing up with only one sibling, Gerri had experienced her fair share of sibling rivalry with fights and yelling. She was more inclined to think back on the last time she played a game of soccer with her younger brother, however, rather than the time she fought with him over the last cookie in the box. Either way, her parents had instilled in her some sense of right and wrong, although there were times when such ethics went ignored. Like now, for instance, when she was ignoring all warnings against using drugs to inquire why they were fun and when she could start. She thought she had reached an epiphany, and that Sammy would commend her for figuring that out and give her another cookie. She was not happy to get a string of no’s as a response instead.

“But!” She gasped, the disappointment clear on her face. “That’s not fair! I’ll always be younger than you.” She was thick, but not thick enough to fall for that. Gerri struggled to come up with a better come back. There was no way she would allow him to use that kind of logic on her, and she wasn’t going to let him off so easily. “What if what if what if,” she repeated uselessly, her mind drawing a blank on a good excuse to do drugs. It wasn’t that she actually wanted to use drugs; she just had a sudden insatiable need to be right. Then finally an idea struck her.

Crossing her arms defiantly, she argued in a bratty voice, “What if...What if I get sick, and have to do it to get better?! I could die without it.” This was logic of her sort. They used marijuana to help sick people sometimes, right? She was sure she heard a story on the news about it once. “And then I’d have to tell the doctors you said I couldn’t use drugs until I was older than you, and then they’d say ‘Well, rest in peace,’ and that would be that and I would croak. And it would be your fault!” She mustered up her best angry pout face and looked up at him from under furrowed brows. “Could you live with that on your conscience?” she asked in a sad attempt to guilt him into apologizing for telling her no.

At least he had said she could skip class with him. That made everything right as rain again, and as messed up as it was, Anni was starting to look up to him. Offer her the prospect of skipping down the halls singing odd songs off key, and she’d be right alongside him, mimicking his every frolic. Her imagination was a little bit better than using the sprained ankle excuse frequently, but when the alternative was something along the lines of “abducted by aliens”, that wasn’t much of an advantage. But maybe screw ups wouldn’t be so bad. The nice thing about being caught together was getting sent to detention together.

The opinions of others would have disappointed the girl, and she nodded to confirm that she definitely did think he was cool. “I can’t wait to meet your friends! We’re going to have so much fun!” Gerri didn’t even consider the fact that his friends were a lot older than her, and might not want a little freshman girl following them around. She was just thrilled at the prospect of meeting more people. The sudden display of sparks made her gasp, and she watched enthralled as he conjured up more sparks and a flame. “That’s so cool!” she exclaimed. “Mine? Well, I can do this!” She held out one pointer finger and drops of colorless acid unceremoniously sprinkled off her fingertip and pooled on the ground. It bubbled and fizzled a little, but nothing else happened. Needless to say, it was far less impressive than Sammy’s display of sparks and fire, and Gerri frowned at her failure to show him up. “Uh, well. It looks cooler on metal…sometimes, but that’s acid,” she explained, “And it comes out of my fingertips, like your fire.” She silently wished she could make it seem more exciting, but the poorly conducted demonstration killed her amazement factor.

[Samuel Rixon]

Fights in the Rixon household were not often over trivial things like the last cookie in the box. The last piece of pizza, perhaps, but not cookies. There were frequent fights over the remote control for the television, or over who got to pick out the video they were going to watch. It was very, very rarely peaceful in the house. It was part of the reason why he was such a noisy, rambunctious teenager. If he wasn’t loud, he wasn’t going to be noticed, and being ignored was something he didn’t like. Though his parents had tried to instil the general senses of right and wrong, somewhere between then and now (with the help of a few mind altering substances) those senses had dulled significantly. Really, since when was punching your best friend as hard as you can wrong?

Well damn. Gerri was smarted than Sam had wanted to give her credit for. Sam, not everyone has the same amount of brain cells. You’re on the lower end. Deal with it. “It’s totally fair!” How, I’m not quite sure. But Sam was convinced that it was entirely fair. Though he’d tried to convince his friends and siblings several times to try his habits, he knew enough to realize that Gerri was too young for that kind of stuff. Plus, she was kind of sweet. He just waited with a silly grin on his face as she stalled.

... Okay. It wasn’t so much the bratty tone, nor the logic that got his attention. He could deal with brats. He could deal with weird logic. But they used this shit for medicine? “What?! They use it when you’re sick? For serious?” Oh Sam, you’ve been living under a rock, dear. “Duuuuuuuude. What disease you gotta be dyin’ from if they give you that? I gotta fake it! It’d save me a shitload of money!” This... was not a good idea. Please don’t tell him, Gerri. “An’ fine. If they said take it or you’re gonna die, you can have it. And maybe when you’re older. If I’m still here and I still like ya.” Funny how he changed his mind on that one. Guilt trips work like magic on the pyro.

Looking up to Sam is a bad idea. Really, it’s terrible. Even his little brother fails to look up to him. He’s the disappointment in the family, in multiple ways. He was never the brightest, or the most athletic. Though his family loved him, he was most definitely not the pride and joy of the Rixon clan. So to have someone actually look up to him, well, it would do his ego a world of good. He liked the idea of skipping around the school, singing ridiculous songs, with another little delinquent to nurture and teach. ... If you could call it teaching. Most of his adventures led to detention, but that didn’t make the process any less fun.

Hearing that Gerri was actually excited about meeting his friends made Sam happy. He loved Ember and Horus, and Vincent, to a degree, but dammit, if anyone was going to corrupt this girl, it was going to be him, not Vin. His version of corruption didn’t involve jumping off the school roof, or playing with pocketknives. As for them not wanting a freshman around, well... Sam would do something about that. What, he wasn’t sure. But he was sure they’d like her. He beamed when she proclaimed his power “cool” and watched when she decided to perform her own powers. It didn’t look like much, but the moment he realized what it was, he absolutely lit up. “I bet I can make it cool! Move back.” Even he was smart enough to toss his backpack further away. Sam, no. Just no. This is a terrible idea. You know it, I know it, and I’m damn sure Gerri knows it. But no, it didn’t stop him. He grinned and flicked his fingers, managing to conjure flames in only a few tries. He then set his hand down by the acid. .... Yeah. Acid + heat? Good idea. Of course the acid lit up, and Sam managed to burn his hand in the process of pulling back. “Motherfucker! OW.” He pulled his hand to his chest and watched the fire burn up the acid. “... Oops? Uh... we should run. Like... now.” Yes. Run away from the fire you caused. He’s full of bright ideas today.