"I'm home!" I whisper-sang as I snuck into the apartment. I threw my backpack onto the couch and was just about to give Grams a hello hug when I noticed my mother sitting at the table.

A plastic smile stretched across her face, and she nodded primly. "Samantha," she said.

I shot her an equally phony grimace-grin. "Hello, mother."

At that moment, Grams walked out of the kitchen with a tray of iced tea. She looked from mother to me expectantly, as if she knew what was going to happen. It made me nervous, seeing Grams like that. I turned back to Lady Lana.

"What is it?"

"I just dropped by to...check up on you. Make sure you're okay."

I cocked my head at her and raised my eyebrows. We both knew that was not the reason why. Lana, realizing that no one in the room was buying her story, let out a large breath of air, and deflated quickly.

"Warren has been telling me that you've been attacking Heather at school."

I practically choked on my own spit as I barked a laugh. "That's what she told you?" I said.

Lana was clearly upset that I had laughed at what she took apparently very seriously. "Yes, Samantha, actually, that is what she told me! Now, I know you two don't get along, but physical violence is not the answer!"

I laughed again. It drove her nuts. "The only reason you don't want me to get in fights is because you think I'll chip a nail! Heather jabbed me in the ass with a pin!"

But of course, she wouldn't listen. "I'm very concerned, Samantha, especially since your behavior has been putting unnecessary stress on Warren! That's why I've decided to - "

I blew through her. "She's a bully! Can't you see? She puts on the waterworks for the adults and nobody can tell that she's evil!"

"Samantha, you let me finish! Your actions have just become more and more brash, and my heart simply can't bear the worry! I've signed you up for therapy to help sort out your issues."

I stopped. "What?"

"Yes. I think a psychologist can help us understand your motivations."

"What is this - you...you think I have a mental disorder? Because I punched back a person for stabbing me in the ass?"

Lana didn't respond to my question. Instead, without even glancing at me, she sauntered out of the room, "Your first session starts in twenty minutes. Get in the Jeep."


My psychologist, Jane Something-or-other, sat opposite me in a cramped room. The light above us barely flickered. I could hear myself breathing. We both shifted in our seats.

"So, Samantha - " she began, looking down at her clipboard.

"Sammy," I corrected her, looking out the window.

"Sammy," she repeated, marking something down. "Your mother tells me that you have troubling adjusting to new situations?"

I snorted. I couldn't help it. "Yeah, maybe a little," I shook my head. The psychologist circled something, which I assumed was a YES.

I wasn't about to let her distort my answers. I asked, "But, I mean, if your mother dumped you one day to go be an actress, wouldn't you?"

My abruptness kept her quiet for at least another minute. All I could hear was her furious scribbling on her stupid clipboard. We haven't even really discussed anything yet. What could she possibly be writing?

Finally, she emerged from her concentration. "Do you ever feel unavoidable impulses to...harm anyone else?"

I knew she was talking about Heather. I tucked my knees under my legs and took a deep breath, "Okay, I don't know how much she's told you, but I promise I'm not crazy. All my actions at school can totally be justified, if you'll just hear me out."

I saw her write in the note section, "Thinks violence can be justified." My hands clenched into fists.

She wasn't going to listen to me. Nobody's going to listen to me. This Jane is going to twist everything I say and make it seem like I'm insane or something. Then, she's going to diagnose me with a mental illness and get paid seven times as much.

I got mad. Well, as long as she's going to diagnose me with something bogus, I might as well have fun with it.

"Yeah," I said, my eyes widening slightly, "come to think of it, I do. Want to hurt people, I mean. All the time."

Jane looked up at me quickly, and her hand paused. I had her attention. "Sometimes, I have this fantasy, you know? When I grow up and I'm rich and famous just like my mother, I'll purchase every single lottery ticket, so I'm guaranteed to win, you know?" I dragged out the last syllable in every sentence deliberately. My eyes widened to perfect circles. I hoped I was creeping the shit out of her.

My psychologist sat rapt, unblinking. Her face was slightly contorted. She was curious and weirded out at the same time. I continued, "And with all that dough, I'll be able to buy up all KFC restaurants. Kentucky Fried Chicken? Yeah, them. Every last one. And then with all of THAT money I'll buy the United States government. Yeah. And then I'll remove every last mace, slingshot, and bow and arrow from our weapons arsenal and slay anyone who...jabs my left ass cheek with a pin. Finally, I'll be the last human alive. And I'll live out the rest of my days on my lifetime supply of Perfectly. Fried. Chicken."

I licked my lips. Then I walked out of the room.


I headed towards the lobby, to get the hell out of there, but my mom was sitting in the armchair adjacent to the door, reading Cosmopolitan. There was no way I could sneak out without her seeing me. My appointment was only supposed to last another ten minutes, though, so I figured I would wait in the hallway until then.

I stooped down at the water fountain, and when I came up, something caught the corner of my eye. I shifted ninety degrees to the left, and jumped back slightly from shock. A man that I hadn't seen before was next to me in the hallway. I hadn't seen him come in.

He was small for a full grown man, I guessed. He was around 5'3'', which was only an inch taller than I was, with a red, curly head of hair and beard.

I nodded to be polite, and stepped out of the way so he could get a drink. He took a step for the fountain.

"Are you okay?" he said finally, after he had taken a long drink.

"How could you tell?" I joked feebly. Resentment was written all over my face.

He stick out his hand, and I shook it. "I'm Patrick O'Leary. I'm the custodian around here." I shook his hand and introduced myself as Sammy.

He pointed to my bimbo psychologist's office door. "How brutal was it in there? Nobody comes out of that woman's treatment without being seriously scarred for life."

I laughed. "Jane? Oh, nah. I could tell she really cared about my problems and not just the paycheck that my mom's writing her."

The man rolled his eyes, "Tell me about it. I don't even know how that lady cheated her way to a psychology degree. If she even has one. So why are you here?"

"My mom signed me up for this. No one will listen to me, so she thinks I have a brain disorder or whatever."

"Really? That stinks."

"Yeah, you're telling me. She dumped me here and expects me not to hate her? Dang. You know, sometimes I wish she actually wanted to take care of me."

The man behind me cocked his head and turned to me really slowly. "What did you say?"

I was slightly bewildered, but I took it that he had a hearing problem or something. "I wish my mom had wanted to raise me as a kid. Like, not be ashamed of me. Or ever want to move away to stupid Hollywood."

The man stiffened, but let out a huge sigh. Under his breath, I thought I caught him muttering, "As you wish."

My nose crinkled in confusion, but the floor suddenly seemed to get uneven and I lost my balance. In an attempt to stabilize myself, I tripped over my own shoelace. My head suddenly seemed to collapse under the pressure of a massive headache. I clamped my hands over my ears in a crouched position. My eyes squeezed shut. Vibrational waves seemed to be coursing through my body. The world was expanding and contracting around me.

It subsided suddenly and I stood up. Looking down, I didn't recognize the cashmere, green sweater that I now wore. Wasn't I wearing my beat-up softball hoodie just a few minutes ago?

Patrick was standing over me, waiting for me to stand up. "What was that?" I asked, rubbing my head. Why hadn't he been crouched on the ground?

Patrick grinned. "Congratulations, Sammy. You did it."

Confusion wrinkled my features. "Um, sorry, what exactly did I do?"

"You got your wish." he said in a matter-of-fact-tone.

"What wish?"

"When Lady Lana gave birth to you fourteen years ago, she kept you and raised you lovingly."

My mouth opened before I could filter my words. "You must be delusional because that's actually the opposite of the truth." Right after I said it though, I grew quiet. It occurred to me that I had never mentioned my mom's name to him. Who was this guy?

Patrick smiled a secretive half-smile. I didn't like the look of it. "Not anymore. Again, you got your wish. Lady Lana loves you. And everything's different."

My head felt woozy. I suddenly felt like I weighed three pounds. Right before I blacked out, I remember one word repeating over and over through my head.

Crap.


A/N: Ooh, Sammy should be careful what she wishes for! I'm enjoying my Spring Break right now, and so I can write more for you guys! Yay! Anyway, I'm really excited about this story. I'm probably going to focus each chapter on a certain secondary character in the series. Sammy's going to take turns with each person, seeing how she's affected their lives and what they would be up to if they had never met her.

I'm glad to be back after my brief hiatus. School's been rough, and I'm starved for your opinions. Comment below? :)

x,
DKMV