Thread: You Again? (rpfiend_123 & AnnaBeth Belle)

RE You Again? Sammy, she said softly, then crawled into her friend's bed and sat on her butt. Samantha was face down in the bed, sprawled half in and half out of the covers. Brooke saw that Samantha had slept in her ponytail again and it was going to be a hot mess to fix. Come on, besty. Wake up. Grasping Samantha's shoulders, Brooke leaned into them and began to gently bounce her friend up and down on the bed. Waaaaaaake upppppp. I hate you, Samantha muttered into the pillow then pulled another on top of her head. You looooove me. You think I'm spunky and adorable, Brooke said and continued to bounce, adding her butt to the motion to make Samantha flop lengthwise in the bed. If you were a boy you'd marry me. If I was a boy I'd never answer your texts and you'd cry every night wondering what was wrong with you. True, Brooke admitted and stopped, then began to bounce again. But then I'd call my besty Samantha and we'd dissect every text from you ever and...wait. You're so stupid, Samantha said and gave an amused snort. I'm him and you're going to talk to me about me? It's no dumber than Kanye's new song. I like that song, Samantha said and got up onto her hands and knees, soccer muscles easily lifting Brooke into the air before she slipped off. With a yawn the blonde girl stretched and then rubbed her face. Brooke shook her head. You slept in your hair again. Yeah. Ouch, shit. Brooke pulled at the pony tail holder securing it, only succeeding in working it deeper into the tangled snarl. Your hair is so pretty and you do this to it. Brooke sighed and went to get the leave in conditioner and a parting comb and a brush. Turn around, she mumbled around the brush handle in her mouth and got on her knees on the bed behind Samantha. For a few minutes the girls worked in silence, except for the occasional ouch as hair was pulled accidentally. We're going to the mall later, she announced halfway through a tight French braid that would be perfect for playing soccer in. Samantha shrugged and Brooke smacked her on the shoulder with the brush. Quit wiggling. Sorry. What are you shopping for today? Don't you have enough clothes? As if, Brooke laughed. No, we're shopping for you. Brooke, you need some new bras and panties. Yours are worn out and I bet they don't even fit any more. I'll wear a sports bra. Those are new, got them last week at Academy. No. Brooke leaned over her friend's shoulder and brought their heads together. You need real bras that fit. I promise I won't get something sexy, but you need new ones. Your tits are going to sag, she teased. Jeez. You're right. My panties are a little tight and it's not from gaining weight, she added quickly. Fat ass, Brooke teased then shrieked as Samantha turned and wrestled her onto the bed. Breakfast was almost over when Claire, as usual, ruined everyone's day. God she was such a bitch. It was the start of summer, she had a beautiful house, a smart daughter, an amazing husband and she had to make everyone feel bad about it. Well, everyone but Samantha. Brooke knew her friend had grown some pretty thick skin about it all, and had adopted her mother's attitude in some ways for further protection. That was wrong. A daughter should love her daddy like he loved her. Theirs should be the most important, deepest relationship in the house. Moms and daughters were natural rivals, and that was okay. But daddies were special. And poor Mr. Stevenson. No wonder he liked being up at school so much. People, kids and teachers alike, needed him there and treated him with respect. Not because of his job, but because of how he took care of them and helped them and, yeah, even disciplined them. They knew where things stood with Mr. Stevenson and respected him for not playing favorites or being easy. Automatically she collected plates off the table and murmured Excuse me, to Mr. Stevenson as she walked pass. While she was rinsing them off, Mike volunteered her for yard work. Mr. Stevenson will do some yard work and I'll sit under the tree in the old tire swing and Snapchat him to the entire school. It'll be epic. When everyone was gone, and Mr. Stevenson left the kitchen, Brooke finished up and leaned back against the counter and dried her hands on a kitchen towel. A little bit of water had spilled on the front of her skirt , making a damp spot that felt cool against her skin. The skirt was a pale mint green, high waisted, and covered with white polka dots. Where it met the sleeveless lace lined top she was wearing Brooke had covered it with a wide brown leather belt with a tied in bow. To match it she had a bow of the same material as her skirt that was meant for her hair but she pinned it to one shoulder of her dress for a cute asymmetrical accent. Underneath, even though no one could see, she had an even paler bra and panty set , padded to give her some cup size she didn't really have, and it was chased in heavy lace all the way around. No one would see it, but it made her feel pretty and Brooke was just girly where Samantha was all Adidas track pants and school spirit t-shirts. This year they could go to the prom if a senior boy asked them, and Brooke really wanted it to happen for her and for Samantha. They'd have so much fun getting dolled up for it and if she'd just try Sammy would be so pretty. The neatly folded towel went back on the rack and she looked around the spotless kitchen. Why couldn't Claire and Samantha see how hard Mr. Stevenson worked for them to make such a nice home? They should be doing it for him! With a shake of her head she went outside to find Mr. Stevenson. Noise from the backyard shed clued her in. Mr. Stevenson was working to take everything out of the shed and put it on the grass nearby. Brooke didn't know why he was doing it, but she stopped under the shade of the big oak tree to watch. He was really graceful, Brooke thought. Some men were strong but clumsy, like a big old bear. Mr. Stevenson was strong and graceful, like he knew his body and ran it like he did the hallways. Order, discipline, control. For a few more minutes she watched, enjoying the warm summer breeze and the quiet, then walked over. What's that? she asked, pointing to a random piece of yard equipment. What's it for?