Who is Sam Evans?

Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Sam drummed his fingers on his desk in a nervous manner and jittered his leg up and down. He had handed in his assignment 2 days ago, and was determined to put it completely out of his mind. But he just couldn't seem to do that...even though the assignment was over he still couldn't help but feel that he still had no real idea who he was. He knew who he wanted to be; Sam Evans the popular jock with the hottest girl in school staring adoringly at him. That was exactly who he wanted to be.

But he also knew who it was easy to be. Sam Evans, the boy whose seen every episode of every Star Trek series and can deliver every characters lines before the actors. Sam Evans, who would rather re-watch Lord of the Rings for the 93rd time instead of going out on a Friday night. Sam Evans, a loser.

It didn't make a difference to him, knowing either of those things. He wasn't who he wanted to be, and he couldn't be who it was easy to be. It was unacceptable.

He turned a page in his math notebook, pretending to do the work they were given. He thought of how he felt working on that assignment in the library. With Kurt. He had thought then, talking to him, that he was getting an idea of who he was. But that assignment was written by the uncool Sam, the Sam that got slushied and picked on. Kurt made it too easy to slip back into being that Sam; he made him feel like that Sam was ok.

He knew he wasn't, but it made sense that Kurt would bring that out in him...Kurt always knew who he was. No matter how people treated him he never changed, never pretended to be someone else. Someone he wasn't.

He groaned inwardly, realizing the conclusion he had just come to...he did know who he was. He was, and forever would be the lame, uncool nerd he had been when he was 12. That was who he was. He could deny it all he wanted, but deep down in that part of him that always knows when you're lying to yourself, he knew it was true.

He needed to sort this out. He needed someone to talk to...He needed Kurt. He would talk to him after glee, and together they would figure out...what? If he knew who he was, what was there left to do? He didn't think he could ever accept himself. No one else would...

But Kurt had, hadn't he? He had told him, without even thinking about it, all about his nerdy secret pastimes. Pastimes he'd been denying for so long. Pastimes he was ashamed of. Kurt hadn't made it seem like they were anything to be ashamed of though. He sighed...he missed playing World of Warcraft so much...

He smashed his head down on his desk in frustration. Luckily, his math textbook provided a softer landing than the computer keyboard, but it still hurt. He didn't really know how long he kept his head there, it seemed like hours. What was the point in moving? Maybe he could just live here, at his desk with his head down...forever...

"You're not planning to live at your desk forever with your head down, are you?" a familiar voice from above questioned.

He raised his head up, the pages of his textbook sticking to his face, and stared at the blond girl in front of him. The rest of the class was empty. The bell must have rang without him even realizing it. Quinn stared at him, with an expectant look on her face, and he realized she was waiting for him to answer.

"Heh, no of course not" he replied meekly. He began to gather up his books, most of which he hadn't even bothered to pretend to look at. Quinn watched him, wondering what had gotten into him lately. He seemed so...lifeless.

"Well, good" she continued, desperate for anything to say "because then you wouldn't be able to play in the game tonight, and I would have no one to cheer on".

The game. He had completely forgotten. How was he supposed to play football at a time like this? He was having an..existing crisis or something. He couldn't even remember if he liked football anymore. What if it was just another one of those things he had thought he should like? A low grunting noise, like someone clearing their throat impatiently came from somewhere on his left, and he realized Quinn was still there, staring at him. She looked confused and worried, but mostly annoyed.

"Right, yeah the game. I can't wait..." he was sure he had never sounded so unconvincing before in his life, and he gave another inward groan for his own patheticness.

"Yeah, you seem incredibly excited" she replied, raising her eyebrow high "I expect you'll be doing jumping-jacks and back flips any moment now". He just stared at her, and smiled lamely in reply. It was better if he didn't speak right now, words were not his friend.

"Well, YOU might not be thrilled but Finn is, and he's convinced Mr. Shue to cancel glee today so we can all come watch the game".

Sam brightened immediately. That meant Kurt would be at the game. He could talk to him afterwards. Suddenly, the thought of the game didn't seem so horrible. It was a good chance to Kurt that there was something he was good at, because he was beginning to suspect Kurt thought he was basically inept at everything.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, with more enthusiasm than he'd had for anything for the last...it seemed like forever but it had only been about 2 weeks since he'd dropped into his funk.

"Yeah...why are you so excited all of the sudden?" She asked, her eyebrow soaring even higher on her forehead. She tilted her head quizzically and her blond ponytail flopped to the side. Why did people do that, tilt their heads to the side when they asked a question? It was a cute thing to do, sure...cute when Kurt had done it too...but it was odd. He decided to ask him about it later.

"No reason" he said quickly, before she could become angred by his silence, again. "The more people to cheer us on, the better is all. Maybe we can all go out to breadstix or something after the game...or bowling". He had just remembered Kurt mentioning a cool new bowling place that had opened up not far from his house. It was glow in the dark. Kurt had said he wanted to go before "too many grossed people used the shoes and they became tainted by athletes foot and mediocrity". And bowling meant they would have to split up into separate groups at separate lanes...he could get Kurt alone to talk for a little. Not to mention, he was awesome at bowling. Something else to impress Kurt with.

Sam barely had time to wonder why it was he was so intent on impressing Kurt before his train of thought was once again derailed by Quinns perpetual insistence on...existing. No, that was rude. He should pay attention to her. He focused on her. Her mouth was moving...sound was coming out...oh, she was speaking.

"...I guess that sounds cool. I have to warn you though, Finn is the worlds spazziest bowler. There could be injuries".

He smiled at the thought of the forever uncoordinated Finn hurtling a large, heavy object around...and then grew very frightened. He could really do some damage. Quinn saw the look on his face and laughed.

"Don't worry, if he can throw a football and not kill anyone he can throw a bowling ball..." Sam wasn't sure that they were the same thing at all, but he smiled back at her anyways.

"I'm sure your right. And if he does kill someone, we'll just run away really fast".

Just then, a teacher walked in on them. How rude. Oh right..this was a classroom. Somehow lunch was almost over, and Mr...his name sounded like a pasta but Sam couldn't recall what it was. Whoever he was, he needed to set up for his next class.

"Sorry Mr. Languini" Quinn said as they exited. Languini...right that was what it was. At that moment, Sam's stomach grumbled loudly. He needed food, it would seem. Quinn, hearing the rumble, laughed and poked his stomach. "Why don't you hurry up and get some lunch from the caf, I'll see you in Spanish". She quickly kissed him on the mouth and walked away, swaying her hips delicately. Kurt walked in that same way, like he was a feather in a light breeze. He wondered if that was a natural or put on thing they did. He raised his hand and touched his lips, which could still feel where Quinn's had been a moment ago. He idly wondered what Kurt's lips felt like...

The thought had come to his head from nowhere, and before Sam could dwell on it, his stomach gave another demanding grumble and all thoughts that did not involve food were pushed from his head. A few minutes later, while he was hurriedly scarfing down his lunch, he didn't even remember having had it in the first place.

But he had had it, hadn't he?

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