7&G

daily_prompt #535 "Another child is born, Another race is won, Another dream is shattered, Another day has begun -This World; Zero 7"
dailyprompt Prompt for 2011-12-21 "When the time comes"
dailyprompt Prompt for 2011-12-22 "What really matters"
dailyprompt Prompt for 2011-12-20 "Secret Santa""Look, princess," Sam snapped as she kicked her locker shut. "I'm on to you. I'm this," she gestured with her index finger and thumb, "This close to finding you out. And when I do, you can be sure that your sparkling reputation will be beyond repair."

Paulina scowled at Sam, disdain oozing out of every perfect pore. "You have no idea what you're talking about, freak."

Countering with a smirk, Sam said, "You rigged the box so that I'd be your Covert Commencement partner. So I did a little digging to figure out what to get," --Paulina paled-- "And nobody would ever think to guess what I found out instead. At least," she added in a superior fashion, "they won't until I tell them."

"You little b--"

"But I might be persuaded to forget your little secret if you do just one little thing for me--quid pro quo, see."

Paulina growled. "And what would that be?"

"Leave Dan--I mean, Phantom--alone."

"Not in your wildest dreams, you psycho!"

"Well then, I suppose that I'll just have to make a few calls to the school paper."

"As if. Maybe you just don't understand because he would never give someone as plain as you the time of day, but nothing is worth giving up Phantom."

"Not even jail?"

A pause. "What are you talking about?"

Sam hesitated, completely thrown. "What are you talking about?"

Paulina looked, not uncharacteristically, confused. "The threads, what else?"

Oldies slang, really? Really, Paulina? The hippie headbands were one thing, but there are lines. "Yes, the threads, duds, whatevers. That's what I'm talking about. And you don't seem to know that it's illegal."

"It's not like I put them there! I can just see them--wait a minute. If you know about them, then that means you can see them, too."

"Right," Sam said dryly. "Because I've been following you."

"No, like, no one else can see the threads, like the one that's tied to me and you. It's beyond, like, gross." Sam stared. Rich kids did drugs too, this Sam knew, and they did them hard. But other than the insanity spilling from those waxy, flamingo pink lips, Paulina exhibited no other signs of being high. If only, eh? And Coach Tetslaff only a shout away, at that.

"And. . . What do these threads look like?"

"You said you could see them!"

". . . I think we're on a different subject entirely."

"Oh. Well, whatever, freak. You better not tell anyone about this, comprende?" She turned to leave, flipping her hair in a manner that somehow seemed as disrepectful as flipping the middle finger, although phenomonally more lady-like.

"Wait! Pri-Paulina!" Paulina stopped, glaring with suspicious blue eyes.

"What?" she spat.

"Look, if you're really, seriously in trouble. . . I know people who can help." Blasted sense of rightousness.

Paulina, who had been in the midst of a retort, suddenly stilled. "Phantom" she whispered.

"Um," Sam said, completely weirded out.

Paulina looked around, curls bouncing and the fluffiest, most love stricken expression contorted her face, an expression which sam never wanted pointed in her direction again. Ever. "Phantom!" Paulina said, loud and giggly. "If anyone can save me, it's him!"

"It depends on what the problem is. What's going on?"

"Why would I tell you?"

"Because I'm dating Danny Fenton, and you know how Phantom always. . ."

"Shows up around Fenton! Oh!!" And then she was silent.

"Well, are you going to tell me or not?"

"Of course not. Just tell phantom to meet me at my house. Anytime. He'll know where." Sam chose not to comment. Paulina, superior smirk back in place, turned to leave once more.

Desperate for more information, Sam hurriedly spoke, stopping her enemy in her tracks, "Uh, I dont think so. Either you tell me, or no Phantom. Thats the deal, chica."

Scowling and fists balled, Paulina sent Sam the filthiest glare that she could muster. "Fine," she said. "But put the bench in front of the door, first. I don't want anyone walking in and seeing me talking to you." Privately, Sam thought that blockading the door would appear even more suspicious, but she was not about to say anything.

Grasping the splintery object and careful not to touch any discarded wads of gum, she silently complied with Paulina's demand. Deed done, she dusted off her hands, plopped upon the newly arranged bench and reclined, forcing Paulina to remain standing.

"I am sure that, should you ask, Paulina would confirm that she had this shirt in her possession." 

"I, I do seem to remember her---Paulina!" she turned her head, calling toward the stairway. Through the gap between Paulina's mom and the door facing, Sam could see Paulina's voluptuous form tripping down the staircase. At her name, she looked up, her mane of dark curls swishing behind her. Her eyes met those of her mother in what was, for once, confusion that was not feigned. Magically, her electric eyes slid from her mother's worried face and aligned with Sam's smirking face. Sam, in response, held the blouse where Paulina could clearly see it, and casually swung it from her pointed index finger. 

Paulina paled, and her mother did not fail to notice. "What--! Get off my door step before someone sees you, freak." 

"Paulina," said her mother, who then moved aside, allowing Sam's body to be seen in her full designer, made-over glory. "That is no way to speak to anyone, much less a concerned classmate. Mama didn't raise you like that." 

"No, Mama," she said, although her heated glare belied her true opinion. Crossing her arms and tossing her hair, she addressed Sam. "What do you want, Manson? And what are you doing with my blouse? You better not have gotten any of your geek germs on it. Do you even know how much that thing costs?" 

Paulina's mother tensed, lips parted, and Sam took the chance to edge in a few words. "A hefty fine and a few years in prison, I would think." 

"What--"

"Relax, they'd probably go easy on you because you're a minor. Oh, no, wait. . . You turned eighteen two weeks ago, didn't you? That's too bad." 

Huffing, she demanded, "What are you talking--" 

"Selling counterfeits is a serious crime, Paulina. I've had this shirt analyzed by experts--which you know I can afford. There's no way this is a genuine Golce & Dabbana." Paulina imitated a fish. 

"It's not mine! I borrowed it from Star," Paulina cried, pleading with her mother.