Sam looked up from her notepad. The bus was slowing. And it was her stop. She’d been so engrossed with writing her latest short story that she had lost track of where they were in her neighborhood. She had to make a quick decision. Her stepmom’s car was in the driveway.
If she stuffed her notepad in her backpack; she ran the risk of her stepmom finding the notebook and throwing it away. Like she had with several other short stories. She was not a fan of Sam’s writing.
Normally, Sam would have given her notebook to her best friend to hold onto until the next morning and she would just keep writing at school the next day. However, it was Friday and she was in a frenzy of writing that she had to get down on paper or she would forget all of it. So, she came up with another idea. She’d leave her notebook behind the trash can, run inside, and then offer to take the trash out, retrieving her notebook and going back inside without her stepmom ever suspecting.
The bus’s brakes screeched to a halt. Sam gathered her things and rushed out, calling out a goodbye to her friend and set her plan into action. As she walked into the door, her stepmom sat on the couch watching tv. Without even looking up or saying hi, she motioned for Sam to come over to her. “I’m going through your things today.” Her stepmom, Karen, said. Sam handed the woman her backpack. The woman dug through, shifting books and pencils around, finding nothing and then handed the backpack back. “Go do your homework.” She said. Sam nodded and ran to her room.
A couple minutes later, she took a deep breath and shouted from the kitchen. “I’m going to take the trash out!” Her stepmom didn’t say anything. So, Sam ran outside with a half full bag of trash in her hand. The notebook was still there. Now she just had to get it back inside. She stuffed the notebook up her shirt and a little down her jeans to hold it in place, praying that it only barely showed against her underweight stomach and ran back inside.
Sam slowed her pace when passing the living room and then bolted quietly through the kitchen and down the hallway to her room. Her hand clasped the doorknob. “SAM!” Her stepmom called. The couch made a rustling as she got up and then the clickity clackity of Karen’s shoes echoed through the house. Sam had seconds before her stepmom rounded the corner. She couldn’t just throw the notebook into her room. That would risk her stepmom entering the room and finding the notebook laying on the floor in plain sight. She had to hide it somewhere. Sam turned around and took the last two steps to the bathroom. Out of sight she stuffed the notebook between two towels folded on the counter and then reached for her toothbrush acting as though she was about to squeeze some toothpaste onto the brush.
Karen poked her head into the bathroom. She glared at her and the toothbrush. “Didn’t you just take the trash out?” She asked. Sam nodded attempting to control her wide-eyed guilt. “Are you not going to wash your hands before doing that?” Karen questioned. Sam tried to hide her grin. “Oh sorry. I’ll do it now.” and sat down her toothbrush and bowed, turning the water on. “I don’t know why you don’t think of these things. You’re so nasty. This is why you end up sick all of the time!” Her stepmom yelled. Sam ignored her and washed her hands. When she finished, she rinsed them and turned off the water. “That wasn’t long enough, Sam! Wash them again.” She crowed. Sam sighed. Turned the water back on and began washing again. She glanced at her stepmom standing in the doorway, folding her arms ready to yell again. She was inches from her notebook. If she moved the towels or put her hand on them at all, the notebook’s location would be discovered.
“Don’t give me that look!” Karen shouted. Sam muttered an apology and continued to wash her hands for what felt like hours. When she’d finished, she reached for the toothbrush. “You don’t need to wash your teeth right now, Sam! Wait until after you eat!” She demanded. Sam sat the toothbrush back down. Another rule changed, since she’d been yelled at last week to brush her teeth everyday after school. “This is why your teeth are so yellow!” Her stepmother nagged. Cornered in the bathroom, Sam needed to find a way to redirect her stepmom’s attention, or she would find the notebook with her latest story. She had an idea.
“I got my report card today.” Sam said. Her stepmom’s eyebrows frowned and her fists balled. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier when I was going through your bag!?” Sam shrugged and squeezed by her, leading Karen to her room. “I forgot.” She said.
Safely in her room, Sam’s stepmom glared down at her report card studying the grades. She pulled out her history book as if she planned on studying for her history test tomorrow and placed it on her desk. Karen pointed at the report card. “Your English grade went down!” She yelled. She stared at the grade. “To a 94…” Sam said. “Still you can do better!” Karen said, tossing the grades onto her desk and leaving the room, slamming the door behind her. Sam paused. Listening to her footsteps. Her stepmoms shoes bounced off her heel with each step, through the hallway, past the bathroom, then louder on the tile and quieted as she settled back on the couch.
Sam quietly squeezed the door open, checked to make sure the coast was clear and retrieved the notebook, hiding it safely in her room to be written in over the weekend.
Closed System 