I'm crazy, I know. I can barely manage my two stories that I have right now, yet I'm starting a third. But you love me for it, don't you? (Please don't answer that!) I had this idea in tech class today and had to start it right away, as in NOW. So here we go!

***

I opened the door to Carly's apartment and slammed it shut. There was the culprit, lying on the couch eating fried bacon. And listening to our PearPod. Yeah, that's right: our PearPod. When Locker 239 got destroyed by sed culprit's eye surgery likened mother, Principle Franklin gave it to us, saying "You each have one. Think of it as a Pear and your spare."

Yet she was listening to it all alone on the Shay's couch, bobbing her head to the beat.

"Hey." I tried, clapping my hands to get her attention. Nothing.

"Hey!" I tried a little louder. Still nothing. I strode over to the couch and ripped the ear buds out of her lobes. She punched me in the stomach. "What was that for, Benson?" she spit out, trying to grab the PearPod back from me. I held it above her face. "This is ours, as in we share it. And I haven't seen it since we got it," I shout, emphasising the sharing part of the musical device. She rolls off the couch and straightens out her lemon slice printed shirt. She holds her hands up in innocence.

"Fine. Take it Freddie," Sam laughs. "I really don't care. Tell Carly I'll see her later, kay?" I nod. "Sure. Thanks, Sam."

"Don't think I'm gonna be polite all the time. Just maybe this once," she says as she lingers by the door, her signature plaid backpack slung over one shoulder. I smile.

"I wouldn't want it any other way, Puckett." She shrugs and bounds down the hallway, leaving me alone with my Peppy Cola and the PearPod. I open up it's case. It's one of those super-fancy ones that keeps the player on one side, and the other side has a spot to tuck your headphones and an identification card. Where our phone numbers should be, there's a note.

Hey Freddica, it says in Sam's loopy, messy script, I thought we could do something with this thing. There's only one song on here; I added it. We'll pass it back and forth, adding one new song each time. Here's the catch: you've gotta share a story with each song. You know, like why you chose it or just something I don't know about you (and vice versa). So here's my first one: I chose this song 'cause me and Melanie used to dance around singing it with our mom (before she started dating that creepy plastic surgeon. You remember him, right?) when I was maybe ten or eleven. I don't know why, but I always liked it. It lifts my mood. - Sam. I'm about to turn on the only song on the playlist when I notice there's a little arrow pointing to flip over to the back.

By the way, no one has to know about our little game :) I'll know if you do.

I smile as I walk back over to my apartment. My mom is baking apples with caramel in the over for dessert, but I brush past her and back to my room. I flop down on my bed and turn up the volume.

I know what boys like, I know what guys want. I know what boys like, I've got what boys like. I know what boys like, I know what guys want. I seen them looking . . . I make them want me, I like to tease them. They want to touch me, I never let them.Well, the beginning sure sounds a lot like Sam. She doesn't like to let people get close to her.

I know what boys like, I know what guys want. I know what boys like. Boys like, boys like me. But you you're special (I might let you).You're so much different (I might let you). Ooohh would you like that? (I might let you). I'm a little taken aback by the next verse. So Sam actually lets me around . . . because she thinks I'm different? Or am I just totally reading into this and Sam just likes this song? Her mind is so very complicated.

I know what boys like, I know what guys want. I know what boys like, I know what's on their minds. I know what boys like, I know what guys want. They talk about me. I got my cat moves, that so upsets them: zippers and buttons, fun to frustrate them. They get so angry like pouty children, denied their candy. I laugh right at them. I know what boys like, I know what guys want. I know what boys like. Boys like, boys like me. Nah nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah nah nah. I see you're sad now (I will let you). Sorry I teased you (I will let you). This time I mean it (I will let you). Anything you want (You can trust me). I really want to (You can trust me). How would you like it? (You can trust me). SUCKER! Hmhmhm . . . I know what boys like, I got what guys want. I know what boys like. Boys like, boys like me. Nah nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah nah nah. I smile as the song fades out. I can just imagine a younger Sam dancing around her family's cute little stone house by the water. It's nice to have a little insight into Sam's world.

I sit down in my wheelie chair and slide across the room to my desk as I restart the song. I want to pick a new song to give to Sam tomorrow, and I know which one is perfect.

***

I hope you liked it! Stay tuned for more & please add this to your alerts!

xo, Chantal