It was later that same Friday afternoon. Outside blew a warm spring breeze as students rushed out of exit doors, either heading for cars, friends, or local shops near by.
Sam, with his torn brown bag on his shoulder, started walking home, immersed into his music. Some would argue that whatever he listened to wasn't "real music" but people always had those stupid opinions that frankly no one asked for.
He walked for exactly forty minutes, taking little shortcuts and running across traffic blocked roads. He got horned at once or twice by drivers in a bad mood, but all was cancelled out by his music. Music.
To Sam, music was a like a warm cozy fire on a winter snowy day. It was like having ice poured down your back during a heat wave. It was his comfort. His peace. His.
Finally, he reached home. Like any other day, Sam walked in, closing the door behind him. His living room was neat, tidy, squeaky clean if you will. As per usual. Nothing was ever out of place. Nothing was ever a mess. There were no spills on the rug or stains on the white couch. It was perfect, too perfect.
He walked through the house, past the kitchen and through a small corridor. At the end were three rooms. He knocked on one before entering. There was no response from the other end, but he knew that he wouldn't hear anything, except the hissing of an oxygen tank and the beep of a machine that tracks her heart. He stepped in cautiously and closed the door behind him.
"Hey Grammy," he sighed, stepping in and leaving his bag near the door. He leaned over the bed and kissed her cheek like she was a porcelain doll. He sat on the bed, near her, holding her hand.
"You would not believe what happened today", he begins imagining what her answer would be.
"Tell me, Sam, what's on your mind, poppet?" she asked, of course all in Sam's imagination.
"I think I exposed myself." He paused for a deep breathe and continued. "I was in a rush for lunch because I was supposed to meet Pedro in the library at lunch. And you know how I walk, in that downward way. Well, I wasn't looking where I was going and I ran into someone, and feel on the floor."
"Oh my, well, are you alright? Did you get hurt?" he imagined she would reply, gasping and checking his body for bumps and bruises, fussing like grandma's do. Sam chuckles to himself before continuing.
"Well, I'm fine but something else happened. I stood up and didn't realize my bag was slightly open. The guy that I bumped into saw what fell out and gave it to me." Sam pulls out his pacifier, his thumb stroking the helicopter. "I have never felt so embarrassed before. I just took it and ran. Now he knows. Some popular dick at our school knows and he for sure will make my life a living hell". He sighed and flopped back on grandma's bed.
"Oh you worry for no reason. Its a new era you know. Back in my day, if you had one of those they would have called you all sorts. Its 2026 Sam. Things are different." She replied, most likely using all those weird hand gestures.
Sam chuckles to himself, but soon is stopped by the sound of a car pulling into the garage. He gets up, fast, putting away his pacifier back into his pocket, grabbing his bag and running from the room downstairs to his room, upstairs. His already worn bag gets thrown onto his desk chair, as he jumps on his bed.
The front door opens, the sounds of loud screaming kids as well as an adult trying to calm them all down. There were 4 all together, but none of them were Mom. No, these people had nothing to do with Sam. In fact, he wished these people would just go back to wherever they came from, instead of ruining his and Mom's peace.
Before he could even reach the door, to close it, making the noise slightly less insufferable, one of those kids ran in, a barbie doll in hand.
"Savannah, get out of my room. You can't be in here," he said, almost sounding like a robot on repeat. This was repeat. One of those kids would make their way into his room. Either her or her twin brother, Peter, who was probably worse.
Large footsteps came up the stairs. Liam, Mom's boyfriend (Savannah's dad) walked in and took his 5 year old daughter out of the room, ruffling Sam's hair. "You know how she can be, always wants to play!"
Like any other teen, Sam grumbled, fixing his messy hair, like how it was before. Messy, but Sam messy.
The cries from his half brother Matteo could be heard through the walls. The cries of a 4 month baby were brutal. Nights were worse, especially when Sam was a light sleeper. Bottles, diaper changed, burping. It was all so much.
As Sam laid on his bed, trying to drown out all the commotion from his step family, that pacifier pressed uncomfortably on his thigh. It was still in his pocket from when speaking with grandma and right now he was laying on it. Naturally he took it out, to relieve the discomfort, but just as naturally he slipped into his mouth.
The familiar silicone sat perfectly in his mouth. He hummed and closed his eyes, sucking slowly. Hugging one of his pillows, he sighed and closed his eyes. Soon, that noisy house had turned quiet in Sam's mind. And soon, his mind switched off completely, letting him fall into an afternoon nap.
