Excerpt:

NANOWRIMO 2009: no title yet but that is cool oops I am just cheating already
by katy westhoff
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January 1st:

There was snow on the ground, the first day of the year already clean with white. Ned, the hero of our story, was sloshing around in his boots, upset. Sure, it was the first snow of the year, conveniently on the first day of the year, but now all the anticipation was gone. There was already one strike on his "first" list.

First snow of the year
First lost sock of the year
First television show watched of the year
First all-nighter of the year
First rain of the year
First sun of the year
First fight of the year
First book read of the year
First visitor of the year

Ned had a list of at least 100 things. His New Year's Resolution was to keep track of all of them. It helped distract him. And how could he be distracted as long as possible if there was already one down, "at least" 99 to go?

His red boots didn't do well to keep his feet cold, but Ned didn't want to go inside. Mom and Dad were in a bad mood. In bad moods? He could go over to the neighbor. But... meh. Sulking seemed a lot more fun. His coat limited mobility, anyway. What fun was sloshing around in the snow with someone else, hobbling over, trying to stay upright? And taking off the coat...? Then they would be cold! there is no winning. Only miserable-ness. So why bother?

Such is why young Ned, the hero of our story, sulks.

What a negative outlook on life, you think. What a miserable 9-year-old, you declare. Yes, young Ned is miserable, and negative, and not a happy camper at all. But he has a point, you know. When you have to make compromises, it is no fun. Either having fun and being cold or being bored and being warm. Might as well take the purposely miserable approach. It makes him feel like he actually has some input on why he is miserable. it is his choice to be miserable. it is not thrust upon him. He has little control in his life anyway.

Ned is an only child.
His parents hate each other.
His parents hate him, sometimes.
His extended family is virtually non-existant.
He feels too smart for school.
He doesn't care for the other kids.

--------

January 5th: Back at school. (Well, on the way)

Christmas break is over, Ned knows, and it is time to return back to the hell-hole, to get told lies about Columbus and learn pointless math and repeat the same science lessons over and over and over. it is a real treat.

"Ned, please, put on your coat," Mom cries.
"Be a man, sport. Who needs that goddamn coat," Dad yells.

he is wearing a coat because it is cold, not because Mom asked him to and not because he wants to spite Dad. Who cares about those assholes, anyway?

Slush, slush, slush. His red boots drag in the snow. Now his fingers are cold. He bunches up his fingers in the fist part of his gloves.

"I hate the cold," he says to no one.

Living but three blocks from school is only sometimes annoying, but this is one of those times. Usually he doesn't mind the walk, the alone-time, but today he hates it. He hates them. He hates the snow. He hates school.

Slosh, slosh, slosh. Kick, kick, kick.

It should be a snow day. It really should.

Well, not really. The snow's half melted, the snow plows have been through Suburbia at least three times, the roads salted, the weather warmer, and Ned is coming back from a two-week break.

"Ned!" a voice shouts behind him. He turns and sees a girl running towards him, her pigtails bouncing, innocence spewing out her pores. He rolls his eyes.

"Hey, Sam," he exhales. She is a neighbor, an old friend, a family annoyance. Her pep exhausts him, his miserableness contested with her around. And yet, he can not make himself get rid of her. His apathy only seems to drive her closer to him.

"Hey, Ned, how was Christmas break!" she says, nearly panting from running to catch up with him. "For me it is not Christmas break, though, it is just 'winter break,' since you know I am Jewish and all. And Hannukah was before break even started this year. Can you believe it? that is not even fair. I can not believe how biased the system is, Ned."

"That really isn't fair," Ned says. he is halfway earnest. No, it isn't fair, but neither is having to listen to her blabber on. But he does like the sound of her voice. it is distracting. And he does listen. Also distracting.

"I know! Thank you, Ned. Anyway enough of me whining. I asked you a question and started talking! Ha! How was your break!"

"Oh, it was... normal. Nothing special," Ned says, trying to think of something more interesting to say.

"What'd you get for Christmas?" she asks.

"Um..." he says. He didn't get anything, really. Socks from dad. A chocolate bar from mom. Oh, but there was... "My uncle Nigel sent me a bunch of his old comic books." He thought about asking her what she got for Hannukah.

"Whoa, comic books, cool. Those are so old and awesome. Can I come over and see them sometime? I will. I got a few gift certificates to Rainy Day Books. You know that place. Oh, and my mom talked about enrolling me in 826 National in Boston."

"826 National? what is that?"

"it is this really cool writing center place or something. I am not exactly sure. My mom's really into it though. I just hope we can afford... I mean, I just hope I get to go."

Ned knew about Sam's family's money problems. Currently, the group of them lived with Sam's dad's brother. It was a tense relationship, since Sam's dad used to be Catholic and converted to Judaism. There were no hostilities, but Sunday mornings and holidays like Christmas were hard for Sam and her family.

it is not like Sam ever told Ned this -- she wasn't like that. She preferred to keep her private life private. But Ned had spent enough after school afternoons in Sam's basement to hear the fights from upstairs. At first, Ned thought they were the same sort of fights his parent's had. But listening to the words proved they were entirely different. It wasn't Sam's mom and dad fighting, it was Sam's uncle and mom, or uncle and dad. Mom and dad, while they didn't always agree, never fought like Ned's parents. They never screamed. Sam's mom never started crying and yelling. Sam's dad never got the alcohol out.

True, Ned's parents never fought in front of him, and Ned was never hurt, but it was scary to hear the yelling when he was younger. He eventually started tuning them out.

"Yeah, that 826 thing sounds neat." He thought about asking about driving to Boston just for that.
"Yeah, but the ride to Boston might get really old," she answered.
"Yeah."
"Yeah."

And then they were at school.

--------

January 5th, class-time.

"Blah blah blah, blah blah, blah blah blah blah!" the teacher droned. Ned was reading one of his uncle's comic books. Much more enthralling.

Then the droning stopped. Sam nudged him. He looked up and saw Mrs. Teacher Person staring at her, her glasses on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes looked magnified. It was the bug-eye effect. And the new nickname: Mrs. Bug Eye. On second thought, drop the Mrs.

"Um... hi," Ned stuttered. He wasn't sure what was going on.

And then he was on his way to the principal's office.

He slushed down the hall in his red boots. There was still snow from the kids who sloshed snow inside from the morning. His own boots were still wet from melted snow. Slosh, slosh, slosh.

The slower he went, the more time he'd be out of Bug Eye's classroom. Hopefully Sam would not be too bored without him. Luckily, she did manage to grab his comic book from him before Bug Eye noticed.

Slosh, slosh, slosh.

Maybe Sam's reading the comic book.

Nah, she usually pays attention in class. There was that one time she fell asleep and drooled when they were learning basic multiplication in first grade. She missed the whole part about multiplying by zero. She thought it would equal the number, but it always equals zero. Ned was the lucky one to nudge her awake and tell her the proper way to multiply by zero. Multiply by zero. Multiply by zero. Multiply by zero. Slosh, slosh, slosh.

And then he was at the door.

Deep sigh. Deep breath. Door open.

"Hello, Ned, my dear," chirps the secretary. "Got the call from Mrs. Bendye about you coming here. Have a seat."

So he sits, his legs too short to reach the ground, kicking his red boots back and forth midair.

And his options are plentiful.

1. Hum.
2. Whistle.
3. Tap his feet against the chair to make a steady tapping noise.
4. Click his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
5. Start crying.
6. Start groaning, as though he were about to be sick.
7. Pull out his pencil and start tapping the chair.

The more obnoxious he was, the sooner they would either
a) send him in to see the principal, or
b) send him back to his classroom, where he could spend another twenty minutes sloshing and "going to the bathroom."

Why they even bothered disciplining him was beyond his comprehension. It was always a challenge, though. It was more mind-challenging than his stupid class with Mrs. Bendye Bug Eye.

Bendye. How could he forget Bendye?

Seven options. But his die only had six faces. How did he usually handle this? Oh, right, he combined "hum" and "whistle."

Rolling.

Four. Crying. Fun.

--------

January 5th: On the phone.

"Yes, but... well he is crying! he is obviously emotionally... no, he needs to... yes I understand that you are... but no. He needs to go home, sir. Alright. Thank you."

The chirpy secretary was a sucker for the waterworks. But now Ned was going to his house. Hard to say which was worse, Bug Eye or pure boredom. At least he could read Uncle Nigel's comic books in peace.

"Hey, Neddy," she chirps. Neddy? Ugh. "Mommy and Daddy are both at work. Mommy's brother, your uncle, Nigel, is gonna pick you up and take you home, OK?"

Uncle Nigel?

He sniffs. "Alright, Ms. Thank you. Can I have some juice?"

The chirpy secretary looks up at him, her eyes watering a bit themselves. "Sure, kiddo. I will be right back." She gets up from her desk and goes off to... wherever it is the school keeps apple juice for crying nine year olds.

But really, Uncle Nigel? What was there to do with Uncle Nigel?

Oh well, he did send those comic books. It should not be too bad. Ned has never really... hung out with his uncle, though. it is a new thing.

Slosh, slosh, slosh.

--------

January 5th: The pick up

Uncle Nigel's supposed to come in to check Ned out. As though he is a library book and the school is the world's stupidest library. How ridiculous. At least he has apple juice, and at least Chirpy the Secretary is fawning over him as though he is a little lost puppy. A library book about a lost puppy in the world's weirdest Library School Pound with birds and teachers who are bugs? that is a bit much.

So Ned is waiting for Uncle Nigel.

And then he hears the principal walk out.

"Polly," he says, then looks at Ned. He lowers his voice, as though Ned can not hear him. Polly want a cracker?

"Polly, you can not keep sending kids home for no reason..."

"No reason? Sir, this boy is under severe emotional stress of some sort. He started crying when he came in here. We must treat this sort of emotional sickness as severely as physical sickness," Chirpy Polly the Secretary says, sufficiently louder than the principal. Ned wants to ask if she wants a cracker. it is probably been done. So he sips his apple juice.

"But Polly..."

The principal looks at Ned again. He leans closer to Polly, and now he is inaudibly whispering. Ned rolls his die again.

3. Click tongue against roof of mouth.

Click click click. It makes a hollow "ttttow" sound. Click click click.

Polly is, as far as Ned can tell, considered attractive. Or "hot." Ned's sat in his seat enough times to know that dads come talk to Chirpy the Secretary than do moms, and dads tend to linger. Polly likes to wear low cut shirts. Ned's seen The Movie, so he knows what those are all about, and he knows that they are there for a reason. And he knows that boys like those things. She is skinny, too. And has nice hair. Ned thinks that Sam is prettier, but Polly is "hot." Whatever that means. However arbitrary that is.

Ned wonders if Polly knows she is hot.
After all, some people say that women, or men, or something, lose their attractiveness when they are over confident, or when they know they are hot, or whatever, or however arbitrary. Ned would not doubt that Polly knew she was hot, what with so many married men, with children, fawning over her day in and out. But she was still nice. She still got him apple juice. She still cared about the "emotional well being" of him and the other kids.

But why did she care? Was she just a good person? Did she want to be a mother herself? Could she not be a mother? What was the story there?

But Ned knew that if Polly wanted something -- even if that something was Ned going to his house for his "emotional well being," that the principal would go with it. The principal probably thought that Chirpy the Polly Secretary was hot. They might have been sleeping together. that is what Ned's dad said once, to Ned's mom. During one of their fights. Mom accused Dad of always staring at Chirpy's chest; Dad said that everyone did, and that it wasn't his fault, or something to that extent. Do men always blame attractive women for being attractive? For flaunting it, at that?

Was it their fault?

Then Nigel walks in. Nigel, who would not notice the hot girl in front of him even if she were wearing nothing but lingerie. She'd have to be sporting a Princess Leia bikini to garner any attention whatsoever.

Oh the joys of a nerdy uncle.

"Um, hello?" Nigel says. The principal and Polly Chirpy Secretary are still in a somewhat heated conversation, but Ned doubts it is about him or his slash the other kids' emotional well being. It probably had something to do with their bedtime relations. Not that Ned would really know.

So Ned's saved. Or "saved." At this point, he can not say.

"Mr. [insert proper last name here]? Your son, Ned, here --" the principal starts, but Nigel interrupts him.
"Oh, not my son. Ned here is my nephew. His parents are working. I am just... babysitting, I suppose is the term."
"Well, yes, well, in any case. Your nephew, Ned, here, is being sent home because Polly, our secretary here, feels he is under some sort of emotional stress. You would not know about anything of that nature, would you?"

Nigel pauses.

"Might I speak to you in private, Principal Davenport?" Nigel asks. The principal looks shocked. Ned looks up lazily from his twidling thumbs, still clicking his tongue. Polly looks first to Nigel, then to Ned, then to Principal Davenport.

"Why... why certainly," Principal Davenport says. He leads Nigel to his office, closes the door, and once again: Ned is stuck with Chirpy Nurse Polly Secretary Who The Hell Knows Anymore.

Slosh, slosh, slosh.

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January 5th: Finally.

Nigel emerges from the office after not too long, solemn looking, and the Principal now looks fully ready to let Ned leave school on a case of "emotional stress," for his own "well being." It seems that Nigel was more convincing than Polly's hotness and boobs.

Nigel signs some sheet, and now Ned's checked out.

Ned follows his uncle out to his car, where the two drive away from the Library Pound School of Evil and Stupidity.

"How'd you manage to get out on counts of 'emotional stress' for your own 'well being'?" Nigel asks, a grin on his face.

"Started crying after Bug Eye... Bendye?... caught me reading one of your comic books in class," Ned said, sounding bored. Uncle Nigel laughed.

"One of my books? Really? Taking after me before you've even gotten to know me, huh, kid?" Nigel says.

"Yeah... I guess so." Ned decides to stare out the window. Talking? Not his thing.

Slosh, slosh, slosh.

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January 5th: Nigel's Talk

"Principal Davenport, I am worried about Ned's emotional well being, as well, to be honest. His parents, well, they do not get along. At all. They fight in front of him, and I think it is making a negative impact on Ned. Ever since... well, something happened, and now the two are always going at it. I think they are aiming for a divorce. Ned's been having a really rough time at home, and I am not sure what kind of impact it is having, but it might be good to talk to some of his old teachers, maybe have him talk to a counselor of sorts... and keep it from his parents?"

"I do not know how I can keep it from his parents, Nigel [last name], but I am sure we can get him with the counselor."

--------------

January 6th: Back to School

"So... why'd you get out of school all day?" Sam asks obnoxiously.

"My emotional well being depended on it. I started crying in front of Polly Wants A Cracker," Ned says proudly. "She is a sucker for the water works. Any time you want to go to your house for the day, just turn on the faucets."

"Really? Wow, impressive. I think that is the longest I've ever heard you say anything. I guess that day off for your emotional well being really worked, huh? Well, yeah, anyway, you missed a boring day, I would not worry about it. I hope you do not mind, but I read your comic book, since I saved it from confiscation, and I figured you would not mind, but just in case you do, I am sorry, it'll never happen again, I guess. But yeah. Crying really worked that well? do not both your parents work? What'd you do all day?"

"My uncle came and got me," Ned says, now tuckered out from listening to Sam talk. "I read comic books at his house and he took me to my house when my parents got back from work."

"Wow, that is so lucky, I wish my uncle were cool like that and would take me out of school and stuff."

"Well, he went in and talked to the principal about something. I mean, Polly wanted me to go to my house for the day, but the principal didn't seem convinced, but my uncle talked to him about it... it was weird."

Ned didn't really think about the talk with Nigel and the principal. He just assumed it was boring grown up stuff. But the more he thought about it, the weirder it seemed. Ned was always "taught" that boys thought with their down - their part, not their brain, and Nigel appealed to the principal's brain more so than Polly appealed to the principal's down-there parts.

"Yeah."
"Yeah."

Slosh, slosh, slosh.

---------------

January 9th: Friday

Bell rings. School's out. Weekend.

Ned's walking to his house, Sam at his side. He likes it better when he is with Sam. it is distracting. Plus he can just go to her house instead of going to his own. So really he is walking to Sam's house.

Ned spent the last two afternoons with his uncle. For some reason, when he went outside, there was Nigel, with his car, ready to pick Ned up and take go to Nigel's house. Sam had to walk home alone those days, and Ned felt bad about that, so yesterday, he told his Uncle.

"Uncle Nigel," he said yesterday, on the way to his house. "I usually walk from school to my house with Sam, and I think she gets pretty lonely when I do not walk with her, and I do not know why you've been watching me or playing with me or whatever in the afternoons, but tomorrow I'd like to go play with Sam at her house after school."

Uncle Nigel seemed pleased with this idea. Why It was no longer OK for Ned to be at his house alone was beyond Ned, but it didn't matter too much.

they are walking in silence, for once. Ned doesn't mind, but it is uncharacteristic for Sam.

"So, can I come over to your house?" Ned asks timidly, breaking the silence. A smile breaks across Ned's face.

"Yeah, sure, I was going to ask you to come over but I always feel like I am really, I do not know, bossy around you, and that you never say anything because I say everything and I do not want you to think that you do not have a say in anything just because you are so quiet and I am so loud. Yeah. Come over. It'll be fun. Oh, were you paying attention during the grammar lesson today, or were you reading your Uncle Nigel's comics?"

Sam would like Nigel, Ned deduces.

"Because it was pretty interesting. Bug Eye was going into contractions, and I was thinking about how I already know contractions. Do you know contractions?"

Sam had taken to calling Bendye Bug Eye, just like Ned.

"I wasn't reading the comics, but I wasn't paying attention, either. What are contractions?"
"Well, you know when you say two words as one to make them shorter? Like 'I am' is short for 'I am'? that is a contraction."
"Oh, so like 'do not' is 'do not?'"
"Yeah, like that."
"Yeah, I know those, actually. I just forgot the name. Contractions."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."

And then he is "home."

Slosh, slosh, slosh.

-------------

Still January 9th, Still Friday, Sam's house.

"Are you sure your parents will let you play this game?"
"Yeah, Sam, it is totally fine. If your parents will let you mine definitely will."
"What makes you say that?"
"Your parents are stricter than mine."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."

Sam puts in the game. it is Halo 3. it is violent, apparently. They play on Easy.

For a few hours.

"Want some hot chocolate? This basement is cold," Sam asks after an intense encounter with some sort of alien... thing.
"Yeah, that sounds really good," Ned says.
"Yeah."
"Yeah."

"Mom?" Sam asks quietly. Somehow, miraculously, Sam's mom can hear her.
"Sammy?"
"Can Ned and I have some hot chocolate?"

there is no answer from Sam's mom, but no more than fifteen minutes later, both of them are sipping on hot chocolate. And "sipping" of course means "blowing over in an attempt to cool the hot chocolate down to 'warm chocolate' so it can be sipped without burning." Ned eats a marshmallow. The two continue game play.

"Hey Ned?" Sam says, breaking the silence.
"Sam?"
"I like you. You make me feel like I do not have to talk. We have a lot of silences but it is not weird, you are just quiet, and sometimes I need to be quiet. You remind me of that. Watch out for that alien. Good shot."
"Thanks."
"you are welcome."
"Thanks for telling me where the alien was, too. I almost missed him."
"Yeah."

Pause.

"I do not like talking, but I feel OK talking to you," Ned says.
"Thanks."
"Welcome."

Pause.

More aliens are killed.

"Hey, Sam, my parents are gonna be at the house soon. I better get there before them."
"Oh, yeah. Thanks for coming."
"Yeah, it was fun. Thanks for the hot chocolate."
"Yeah. I will walk you to the door."

Slosh, slosh, slosh.

--------------

January 10th, a Saturday, after a nice long sleep

Ned wakes up to the smell of bacon. "Bacon?" he says out loud, from his room, from under his Mickey Mouse sheets he is had since pre-k. Mom and Dad haven't made breakfast since Ned was six, since before... before the excessive fighting. He rubs the eye boogers as best as he can from the corners of his eyes and shuffles downstairs.

"Dad? Mom?" he asks, still rubbing his eyes. He sees someone taller, someone with a hat and a striped button down shirt... "Uncle Nigel?" he asks. Nigel turns around and smiles.

"Hey, Ned. Bacon?"

"Uhhh, yeah. Sure. Why are you here?" Ned asks, not worrying about his rudeness so early in the morning.

"Just thought I'd come by and help with breakfast. Here's your bacon."

First Ned gets out of school and spends time with Uncle Nigel, then Uncle Nigel takes him after school, and now Uncle Nigel's in his kitchen, making Ned him breakfast.

Ned can either
a) Try and figure out the cause for this new adage in his life, or
b) Accept it, not worry about it, and hope it is for the best.

B sounds like the better option at this point.

Besides, bacon is delicious.

"Pancakes?" Nigel charms. Ned nods excitedly.

Pancakes are even better.

--------------

January 10th, a Saturday, in the afternoon

"Plans?" Nigel asks Ned. Nigel's sitting in the living room, on the couch. Ned's been in and out of his room, not sure what to do with himself.

"Might go to Sam's," Ned says. "Why?"
"Might take you out, and Sam, if she wants," Nigel replies.

Out?

"Out?" Ned asks out loud.
"Yeah. To lunch, to a movie, sledding. Whatever. Out."
"Oh. I will ask Sam."

He goes back to his room, excitedly running, with more energy than he had before prospects of going "out." Sledding, a lunch, a movie... whatever. Out.

He picks his phone and calls Sam's house -- the number's been memorized for three years now.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Hello?"
"Hi, it is Ned, is Sam there?"
"One second, kiddo."

Kiddo. Almost worse than 'Neddy.' Almost.

"Hello?"
"Sam?"
"Hey."
"Hey."
"... so what is up?"
"Oh. Right."

Ned usually wasn't the one making plans.

"Well, my Uncle is here and wants to go out."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, so no Halo today?"
"Oh. Well he said you could come. You know. Since we're friends and all."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Oh."
"Yeah, so, um, want to come over and we'll go out?"
"Out where?"
"To lunch. A movie. Sledding. ... whatever. Out."
"Sounds fun. Will I need money?"
"Might as well bring some."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."

Sam hung up. Ned really needed to work on his communication skills.
Yeah.
Yeah.

--------------

January 10th, "Out"

Uncle Nigel has a nice car. It is nice and warm, too. And the seats are comfy. It has obviously never been used for taking kids to soccer games, like Sam's family's car (Sam had three older brothers), nor has it been used for picking up manure (Ned's dad was a gardener, and the car always smelled halfway horrible). Everything about the car was just... right. It was a silver car with leather seats and there weren't finger prints everywhere.

Ned and Sam are sitting in the back of the car. They each get a window seat. Sam's sitting behind Nigel; behind the driver's seat, which puts Ned on the opposite end. Passenger rear.

"Where to?" Nigel the driver asks. Ned and Sam make eye contact. Ned shrugs.

"I am hungry..." Sam starts.
"To lunch!" Uncle Nigel shouts.
"But where?" Ned chimes in. Excitement is high. He and Sam are sporting huge grins, enthralled with Uncle Nigel.

Uncle Nigel doesn't know where to take them. they are nine year olds. What experience does he have with nine year olds? None. None experience. Or... no experience.

All he remembers about his childhood is comic books, which he is already sent off to Ned, figuring Ned needed something distracting over the winter break, trapped in that house with Nigel's sister and that asshole, Brett. Uncle Nigel may not know much about kids, but he does know that is not a healthy relationship for anyone.

But what could he do? He was just... Uncle Nigel. He barely knew Ned. He wasn't cut out to be a father... not that he was even sure it would come to Ned being taken away from his parents. It should not get that far. But what if it was? What if it was too harmful for Ned to be in that situation? that is ridiculous. No. He has to stay with his parents. The question is when his parents will stop staying with each other. Then what happens? Because it is bound to, any day, any hour; what if Brett just didn't go to the house? What if Amy, Nigel's sister, packed up and left? What would happen to Ned?

"Pizza, anyone?" Nigel asks.
"Yeah!"
"Yeah!"

------------------

January 11th, Sunday.

No bacon, no pancakes, no pizza, no Uncle Nigel, no Sam, no fun.

Sam's out with her parents for the day, but with a different connotation for "out" than Ned, Uncle Nigel, and Sam's outing yesterday. This is the kind of "out" that entails long hours of grocery shopping, sitting in uncomfortable soccer carpooling minivans, and miniscule amounts of snackage. Ned only has pity in his heart for his best friend.

Best friend. That about defines it, then. They've been spending an awful amount of time together lately, but it is not awful. it is great. Ned gets out of his house, Sam gets out of hers... Ned, Sam, and Uncle Nigel are perfect together.

But now, Uncle Nigel has to go to work. Ned's own father is off accounting or whatever (gardening is, of course, a seasonal job), and Ned's mother is asleep upstairs.

Of course, it is noon. Might as well see what Mom's up to.

Ned creeps along the hallway, with the creaky floors, that leads to his parents' room. He knows his mom is asleep inside, so he knocks quietly, then opens the door a smidge. "Mom?" he whispers inside. A groan emerges from a bundle of blankets. Movement. An arm comes out of of the bundle.

"Ned?" a hoarse voice calls out.
"Um... I am hungry," Ned says lamely. he is old enough to make himself macaroni and cheese, but he can not think of a better excuse to get his mother out of bed.
"Ned..." sighed the bundle. Its entire embodiment breathed as the fortress went up, then down.
"Mom, please?" Ned pleaded. Another groan.
"I will be out in a minute. Shut the door."

Code for: I am awake now, let me get dressed and shower and I will pay attention to you in about an hour.

So an hour to kill. it is his turn to sigh.

------------------

January 11th, Still Sunday

His best idea was to watch TV. Which was a rarity for him, but he'd sped through comics in the past few days and felt like a change of media. Decrepit and alone, he sits in silence, staring at the moving picture audio show in front of him. Colorful characters in daring schemes... it immerses him. Why could not he and Sam be a crime-fighting duo, but really be two ordinary kids? Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable -- neither of them were anything like Kim or Ron, but it was worth the dream, imagining himself with blonde hair and freckles and baggy clothes and a naked mole rat named Rufus. What is that, that freaky thing? Yes that is right it is a naked mole rat.

Or what about Tiny Toons? Babs and Buster Bunny (no relation), with their wild antics and adventures, always something to do. And Dag and Norbert of the Angry Beavers? So much fun. Norbert blonde like Sam, though Sam was more Dag-ish in behavior; Ned was definitely more of a Norbert. Buzz Lightyear and Sheriff Woody. Wallace and Gromit. So many TV duos that he and Sam could be, if only there was a way fictional life was real life.

Or they could be like Ron and Hermione... but who would be their Harry?
Sam and Freddy, but who would be their Carly?
Ned and Moze, but what about Cookie? Well, that one works differently. But it is not like Ned is going to let someone else be Ned, and he for sure can not be Cookie... besides, Sam got to be Sam in the iCarly team.
And the famous Three Musketeers?

Trios vs. Duos.

Sam and Ned were getting older. Maybe they needed a third.

--------------------

January 11th, Continuation

Mom finally got up and made Ned macaroni and cheese, as per his request, and now he sits, eating it with a fork, his mom gone again, doing laundry or something.

Sure, Ned loved his mom, and obviously wanted to spend time with her, but he never felt comfortable talking to her. Or being around her. She didn't make him feel safe or loved. But he didn't feel like a burden. Ned and his parents, they were like... room mates. House mates, really. But they were "responsible" for him and gave him rides to places sometimes, but usually not, seeing as, formerly established, Sam was his only friend and she lived close enough that he didn't need to worry about rides or any of the like.

Nigel was there for both of them, to take them out, to get them pizza, to just be outside of the house without being outside and without being at Sam's house.

-------------------

Reflections and Thinking On: going "out."

Nigel treated Sam and NEd to the most fun either of them had had in a while, Ned was sure. Ned was feeling particularly un - miserable. Sam was her usual peppy self, but it was certainly more fun to be peppy when your compadre wasn't miserable and actually peppy himself. Nigel was funny and told jokes and treated the two of them like adults, except he paid for them. And they had to sit in the back seat.

And they didn't feel like adults. They just felt respected. Like Nigel actually cared what Ned and Sam wanted to do and had to say and what made them laugh and smile and all that. Most people think they can pull the same old gags over and over again and garner the same enthusiasm -- fake falling, some clever pun, talking like an idiot, imitating something on tv. Every adult did it. Nigel was the exception. He had a genuine sort of humor, and was honestly himself; he didn't try to make them laugh, he just did. It was refreshing to young Ned.

The trio went out to pizza, then to a park, then an impromptu snowball fight, laughter, coldness, and then hot chocolate at a coffee shop. Locally owned, of course. As if Nigel would stand for Starbucks.

Then Sam had to go to her house, so Nigel and Ned stayed at Ned's house for a while, before Nigel finally had to leave, where Ned was without pizza, hot chocolate, fun, and company.

--------------

January 11th, Still

Wait a second... "the trio went out to pizza." "The three of them." "Nigel, Ned, and Sam."

Had Ned found his and Sam's Carly? Their Harry? Their Cookie (or Ned, to be technical but not appeasing)? Their Kim Possible (since obviously Ned and Sam were Rufus and Ron, though respectively is debatable)? Their illusive third musketeer?

Nigel Jameson, Sam "Irish last name starting with J", and Ned "Something with an S." A trio, a triad, a triumvirate, a team.

He'd have to run this by Sam. But she was still going to be gone for a while. So he calls his Uncle Nigel.

Mom wasn't using the phone -- she was his mother, after all. She didn't really talk to anyone on teh phone. Or in person. She had friends... what happens to friends of parents from high school? Do they disappear into nothingness? Well, Ned's sure he and Sam will be friends even if one of them has kids before the other.

Anyway.

Ned grabs the phone and calls his Uncle Nigel. He memorized the number after Nigel came over the first few times and NEd figured it'd be a good number to know. he is just good at that sort of cheap memorization stuff.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Answering machine.

"This is Nigel, you know what to do." The beep.

"Um. Hey. Uncle Nigel, this is Ned. Just... wanted to talk, I guess. I do not know. Um. How are you? Um. Call me back? This is Ned."

Eeeeeh horrible message. How unarticulate. how stupid sounding. And yet he expected the respect of his Uncle Nigel. He didn't deserve respect. He was just a stupid kid who didn't even know how to leave a proper message on an answering mach --

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Hello?" Ned answers.
"Ned! it is Uncle Nigel! How are you, kiddo?"
"Oh! Hey Uncle Nigel! I take it you got my message?"
"Yeah, I usually screen my calls, and when I heard you I thought about anwering, but hearing you fumble through that was way more fun. How can I help you, kiddo?"

Somehow, even when being called 'kiddo,' Ned still felt more respected by his Uncle than anyone else. He had a teacher once that called everyone by their last name. He was Mr. [Last Name Starting with S]. Sam was Ms. [Irish last name starting with J]. It was a system in place. Yet he never sounded earnest about it. He just sounded... facetious.

"Oh. Well, I just wanted to talk to you about something, actually."
"What kind of something?"
"Well, I was thinking --"
"The 'I was thinking' kind of something. I am familiar with these. Go on."
"Yeah. I was thinking. Well, Sam and I are a duo, right? And I was thinking that maybe it would be more fun if I were... if we were a trio. You and me and Sam. I haven't asked Sam about this but I thought that maybe it'd be fun. You know. Being a trio. There are lots of good trios. And you and me and Sam would be a good trio too, I think. I do not know."
"Hmm."

Part of a trio. With two nine year olds. That was a little... weird. But then again, Kim Possible was a trio with a naked mole rat. That was pretty bizzare. And it transcended not only age, but species. Genus. Not Kingdom, but hey. Close. Maybe they should be a quadrad with a fern tree.

Was he, Nigel, honestly becoming friends with a 9 year old? He never felt like the kids' guardian. They did just have fun together, except he paid. And drove. And could not curse or drink with or in front of them.

It was... a weird concept. And yet here he is, thinking it over.

"A trio?"
"Yeah. A trio. A triumvirate, if you will. You and me and Sam."
"Yeah. A triumvirate. Like the three musketeers?"
"Or Kim Possible."
"Plus Rufus."
"Yeah. Rufus and Ron are pretty much unstoppable."
"The Unstoppable Stoppables."
"Anything is possible for a Possible."

Yeah, he watched children's programming. What of it? It was good stuff. Phineas and Ferb? Best writing on the television.

"Yeah. A triumvirate. Who's Kim?"
"You. you are the oldest and kind of the leader. I figure I am Ron and Sam's Rufus... or maybe I am Rufus and you are Ron and she is Kim? I do not know, I can not figure it out. Not a perfect metaphor."
"What metaphor is perfect, anyway?"

Was this conversation really happening with a nine year old? This was beyond weird. Not only was he enjoying the topic and content of the conversation, but he was talking about becoming a trio with this nine year old and his friend. He was this kid's uncle. Was that... normal?

Was anything Nigel Jameson did normal?

His whole life he never fit in. He was called "childish" and "dorky" and was a "nerd." A social outcast. Always. Never had a girlfriend, never had a real friend, not like Ned and Sam. Could they be his real friends?

Was that creepy? That was definitely creepy. Definitely definitely creepy. This could not happen. He could chauffer them around, but he could not be the third (or first, as Ned seemed to imply) of their musketeers. He was just an old creepy dude who was hanging out with nine year olds. That wasn't ok. No one would be fine with that. Not Ned's parents, not Sam's, not Nigel himself.

Sure, he could babysit, and be the cool babysitter... but... jeez.

No. He could not.

But the kid, he was so impressionable. And so adorable. And so... such a great kid. And his goddamn parents didn't give a rat's ass about him, only about their own problems. Nigel could not save the kid from that. He could sure as hell try. And maybe this was part of that.

How did Nigel even get involved in this?

Maybe he was involved since the beginning of the marriage, when he knew it was destined to fail. No one liked Brett. Especially not Nigel. He was a jerk, an ass, a pompous kid who was less mature than Nigel, which was saying something. He still laughed at fart jokes, and not in an ironic way.

Yet somehow, his sister fell in love with the asshole. Genetics will always be a mystery to Nigel. How could someone with such a righteous, awesome brother [Nigel] fall victim to the charms of an asshole like Brett? No sense whatsoever. But it happened. And Ned happened. And now Ned was part of it, and they were falling apart.

[subtlety needs work]
[remember that Sam is a TIGHT FAMILY UNIT compared to NED'S FALLING APART FAMILY]

And was it Nigel's job to pick up the pieces? He could sure as hell try.

"Well, I am not sure about being a third musketeer. At least without asking Sam."
Well, he could not break the kid's spirit.
"Yeah, I will ask Sam. Wow, thanks Uncle Nigel! So will you pick me and Sam from school tomorrow?"
"For sure, kiddo. For sure."

Does that mean he had to stop calling the kid kiddo, if they were musketeers?

"Want me to stop calling you kiddo?"
"Nah, it is totally cool, Uncle Nigel."
"Awesome. do not start calling me 'just Nigel' though, kiddo."
"do not worry, sir."
"do not go that far."

They laughed.

"Well, kiddo, I'd better go. got to get some work done. See you tomorrow."
"Yeah. Love you, Uncle Nigel."
"Love you too, Ned."

Not Neddy, thank god.

Ned hangs up first, if only to seem less dependent.

It is time to run the plan over with Sam.

----------------------

January 12th, walking to school

"So what do you think?" Ned asks.

Sam ponders. Ned has just explained his master plan, of converting their duo to a trio, and felt he did a good enough job pitching it. There were probably more "ums" and "ahs" than necessary, but Ned wasn't so good at explaining his own ideas. Nigel seemed to understand his plan well enough, but Sam wasn't, no offense, as smart as Nigel. He was older and all that.

"Well, sounds like a good idea."
"I talked to Nigel about it and he seemed to be for it."
"Yeah. Nigel. That was fun when we went to the park and stuff."
"Yeah, that was really good hot chocolate."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."

Slosh, slosh, slosh.

-----------------------

January 12th, still walking to school.

A trio? A triumvirate? Sam didn't even know what a triumvirate was. Ned was so much smarter than her. He was so quiet, too. And she could not leave him alone. She could not help it, she was drawn to him.

What if Nigel ruined that? What if Ned and Nigel got closer than she and Ned? What if Nigel broke the duo instead of made a trio? What if Ned and Nigel became like Ned and Moze, and Sam was the awkward Cookie, who was alone with two people together? Not that Ned and Nigel would date... it wasn't a perfect metaphor, but it still worked.

Trios didn't work. They fell apart. The famous duos were so much better. Batman and Robin -- well, that wasn't really a duo, it was a hero and slash or sidekick dynamic. Trios lacked a solid foundation. Harry and Ron were closer than Harry and Hermione. Sam would be Hermione. Sam would be out of the loop. Sam would be alone.

But Ned, he was so excited. And he was always so happy when Nigel was around. He really likes the idea of a trio. How can she say no? Not when his face lights up like it does every time his Uncle calls or picks him up. She can not take that away from him.

They could try a trio. But the second she feels like an ostracized Hermione, or an awkward Cookie... she'll talk to Ned.

[SYMBOL LOL: the year is young and so are they]

----------------------

January 12th, yeah it is still the same

Sam was quiet. This was new.

"Sam?"

They had been through their typical yeah and slash or yeah and slash or yeah and slash or yeah, Ned was sloshing, it was typical. But they were still a good five minutes from school. Usually the yeah and slash or yeah and slash or yeah and slash or yeah was about two minutes from school.

"Yeah?"

Should she tell Ned she was worried now, or just save it until it became a problem?

Ned asks, "Are you ok?"

Deja vu. Was she ok? What was going on with her lately? Something was wrong?

And Sam, her voice an octave higher than usual, "Yeah! Fine!"

Her voice got really high. She felt in in her throat. It wasn't a lie, she just didn't know how to answer.

Ned heard her. "Are you sure?"

Her voice got really high. She must have been lying.

"Yeah."

Ned pauses before saying the inevitable.

"Yeah."

---------------------------------

January 13th: At school, for another day, as like all the other days.

Bug Eye is talking, Sam is thinking.

Should she tell Ned?

She already decided not to, but the voice in the back of her head, the voice of doubt she tended to ignore, isn't just whispering. It is yelling. She needs to talk to her mom about this. Her dad. They'll know what to do. They can tell her what to do about Ned and Nigel and a trio or a duo.

What if she said she didn't want to hang out with Nigel and Ned hung out with Nigel and not her anymore? She'd lose her best friend. She would lose him in a second. He would obviously pick Nigel over her. She was just a stupid girl, who wasn't smart enough to keep up with him, who would play Halo with him and feed him food in her house, but nothing else. She didn't want to lose him. She could not lose him. She loved him. They were 9, and he was her best friend, and they played together at recess, and all the other kids thought she was weird and he was weird so they had to be weird together.

They had to. To survive.

"Sam?"

Whispers next to her. Not from Ned. He was assigned to sit across the room from her. Bug Eye was evil.

"Sam, are you crying?"

Is she? She rubs her eyes. They are wet. She is crying.

"No, no, I am fine."

When she lies, her voice doesn't get high. Just when she doesn't know.

Is she ok?

Her uncle, her dad's brother, he keeps trying to take them to church.

Is she ok?

She doesn't have an Uncle Nigel. But Ned doesn't have parents. it is a trade-off, she supposes. And Ned just got his Uncle Nigel in his life. Sam has had her parents since birth. And, well, yeah Ned had parents, but they weren't close like Sam and her parents.

"Your eyes are wet... are you ok?"

Is she ok?

The tears streaming down her face against her will say "no." She chokes a sob. Bug Eye looks over at her. Her eyes are getting puffy, red.

"Are you ok?"
"Sam, are you ok?"

She looks at Ned. He meets her eye and immediately stands up and walks over to her.

"Are you ok?"

Well, obviously she is not ok.

"Someone take her to the nurse," Bug Eye says, standing by her side, Ned at her other side. Ned grabs her arm, and she drapes herself over his shoulder. She is taller than him, and her hair is falling out of its ponytail.

They go outside and the pair collapse in the hallway.

"Sam!" Ned yells. She can not walk, she can not walk, she can not make it.

"Sam, c'mon, let's go to the nurse, to the counselor. You want to go to your house? Are you ok?" Ned is really worried.

"I am not ok. I am not ok," Sam says.
"What can I do? What do you need? Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam..."

----------------------

January 15, two days later, at his house.

Ned has had to walk to and from school by himself for the past two days. Sam has been at her house, after her break - down in class. He doesn't know what to do with himself. Uncle Nigel picked him up on Monday, and Ned told Nigel about Sam's break down and wondered what was wrong with her. Uncle Nigel didn't know what to think. Uncle Nigel had no advice.

"Go talk to her," Uncle Nigel said. That was the only thing which he could think. The only idea he had.

It could go a long way, Uncle Nigel thought. Just a simple thought. Just letting her know that Ned cares. What sort of stress would a nine year old be under to break down crying in class?

Better question, why was he suddenly these kids' fairy god parent? He had enough trouble trying to protect Ned from his parents, did he need to protect Sam, too? He didn't even know this girl. He didn't know her parents. If he suddenly started doing with her what he was doing with Ned, that would be creepy. He could get labeled a pedophile, a kidnapper. She seemed to like her parents, anyway. It could not be that. There was something else going on.

But why did he care? Why should he care? He should have nothing to do with this girl. Ned should not be his problem either. But here he is, involved.

Ned's a kid. Sam's a kid. Why doesn't anyone else understand that? That they need compassion and understanding and attention from adults, especially from their parents. Not seclusion and strain from fights and "Stop crying, you are fine."

But Sam, what about Sam? What were her parents doing? Ned told Nigel that she has not been at school.

Uncle Nigel is supposed to be working. But being self-employed often has its advantages. He likes saying he is "independently wealthy" and that is why he doesn't have to work, but really, he does make his own money. He is a freelance designer. For websites and various products. He designed the latest Kleenex Box. That was an exciting call. Mostly he gets e - mails from people expecting him to design or host them a website for free. NigelJameson.com was hopping, though. It was generating nearly two thousand hits a day, which was enough to keep Nigel happy. He had some blogs, some video blogs, some good stuff overall.

His room mate, or house mate as it would be aptly called, is another bachelor. His name is Jimmy Sheen, though everyone calls him Shawn, for whatever reason. Shawn is currently "in between" jobs, which means Nigel's responsible for the rent. Nigel and Shawn have been friends as long as Nigel can remember, probably in the same way that Sam and Ned are friends.

"On the job hunt yet, Shawn?" Nigel calls from his computer room, where he spends most of his time.
"After my shower," Shawn calls back. "Designing more kickass websites, I hope?"
"Of course. Someone has got to bring in the dough."
"What is going on with the Neddster?" Jimmy Shawn calls.
"Same as before. Parents still fighting. I think I am gonna pick up Sam after school, too."
"Sam?"
"You know. That curly haired girl Ned hangs out with."
"Oooh, a girl, eh?"
"Not like that. they are best friends."
"Besides, they are nine."
"Besides, they are nyeee.... Hey. How did you--"
"You said the same thing last time I asked about her. I just remembered."

They were still yelling back and forth from two rooms. it is typical. No one else lives in the house with them, so they figure they can be as rambunctious as they want. Just a couple of 20 - something - year - old bachelors, living in Surburbia, going from hardly working hard. they are the perfect sitcom characters.

Add in two emotionally distraught nine year olds and there is your dramady (the drama and comedy combo). Going from dealing with a night on the town to a night in therapy. Ah, time to write up the pitch for NBC.

Nigel wasn't much of a TV fan though. Shawn watched a lot. But he watched it all on the computere. So their house actually had no real television. They got most of their news from online and from phone calls and actual human interaction from that hard - to - perfect social activity known as "small talk." As Nigel rarely left the house, Shawn would have to fill him in once he got back from work. Now they were both out of "real" work (in Nigel's case -- Shawn was out of "all" work), their knowledge of local news was trifling. Though Nigel knew a lot about tsunamis and earthquakes in Cambodia and Egypt, he had no idea that Mrs. Tibble's cat nearly died in a tree before being saved by her neighbor's young boy, or that the fire department was celebrating its fifteenth anniversary. It was a trade-off.

"I am off," Shawn Jimmy says, emerging from the shower. "Got a lot of places lined up to visit. Got six copies of my resume. Wish me luck?"
"Luck," Nigel says, nodding. Shawn smiles.
"See you in a few hours," Shawn says. "Have fun with the kids." He winks.

Nigel sighs. The door slams behind Shawn. Nigel prays to god no one thinks he is a pedophile.

--------------------

January 15th, at school, with Ned

Ned is alone and sad and depressed on the inside. All the indie bands would write angsty alone depressed songs about him. Because he is angsty and emo. And alone.

he is sitting in Bug Eye's class and keeps looking over, across the room to Sam's empty desk. she is not there to share his pain as Bug Eye talks about nothing important. He tries to distract himself with his comic books but he just keeps thinking of Sam in her house by herself. It almost brings him to tears, and if he cried he'd get to go to his house, too, but he is missed so much school already, besides Uncle Nigel is gonna pick him up from school soon.

Recess comes, and Ned sits on a swing, kicking his legs back and forth without really getting any elevation.

Larry and Jeff, two of the bigger kids in Ned's class, walk up to the swings. Larry sits on the swing next to Ned's, and Jeff next to Larry. They swing in silence, up and down and back and forth. Ned stays close to the ground and moves side to side.

"Hey, Ned," Larry calls, dragging his feet down to get on the floor.
"Yeah?" Ned says back, quietly. He has never talked to Larry before. They don't seem to have much in common.
"Where's your girlfriend, that Sam girl?" Larry asks him. "She ran out of the room crying the other day. Remember?"
"Who? Oh. Yeah. I don't know," Ned says sheepishly. He rubs his eyes to hide his face. He feels the tears pooling, but knows he can't cry in front of anyone.
"You guys hang out a lot," Jeff says. He has now stopped swinging as well. "Is she your girlfriend?"
Ned feels his face get hot. "No, she is not my girlfriend." there is no way out of this. he is sweating. So he laughs. "Her? My girlfriend? Ha! No way," he says, hoping he has acted quickly enough.

It seems to be enough for Larry and Jeff, who go back to swinging. Ned twiddles his thumbs and draws pictures in the dirt below the swing with his foot. The bell rings soon enough, and they go back inside.

Ned waits all through the day, all day, through lectures and recesses and lunches and taunts, through dasher and dancer and prancer and vixen and comet and cupid and donner and blitzen, and Ned was Rudolph. It was ridiculous.

He goes outside and waits for his Uncle to show up. Within seconds, his Uncle pulls up in his perfect car, without fertilizer and soccer mom smell. Ned hops in the car. Uncle Nigel turns around.

"Wanna get Sam?" Uncle Nigel asks. Ned nods exuberantly. He misses his friend.
"I miss her," he says. Uncle Nigel looks at him sadly.
"Have you seen her at all?"
"I tried to go to her house yesterday," Ned says, "but no one answered the door. I waited outside her house for twenty minutes. But no one came to the door."
"Well, hopefully someone will come when we get her."
"Hopefully."

They drive in silence, not even the radio making background noise. Ned thinks about asking to turn the radio on, but decides it would be just as awkward to bring it up now. Probably more awkward than just sitting in silence. Even talking would break the awkward silence, but the awkward ness would still be there.

The awkward "so...", trailing off, so common in Ned's talks with his parents. The awkward "Well," the awkward "um," the awkward awkward ness that was more awkward than just the awkward silence and the word awkward itself with its two double yous and k and d and two a and d and another d and stuff and things. The definition of awkward is my face.

And then all the sudden they are at Sam's house. Ned gets out of the car and knocks on the door. He waits, rather impatiently, before sloshing, sloshing, sloshing towards the car. Nigel looks at him, as if to say, "Giving up so soon?"

"You stood at the door for about thirty seconds, kiddo," Uncle Nigel says.
Ned hops back in the car.
"she is not gonna come. Let's just go. she is not gonna come."

Uncle Nigel pulls out his phone and dials Sam's home phone. He drives away, to the stop sign at the end of the block, the snow slushing underneath his tires, splashing against the curb and over on teh other lawns. The phone rings.

"Hello?" Sam's dad answers the phone.
"Hi, this is Nigel Jameson, Ned Superman's uncle. I was wondering if I could take Sam and Ned out for ice cream or something similiar? If Sam's feeling up for it, of course."
"Well, Sam's been in quite the pickle, but I think seeing Ned would cheer her up. We're all in the basement, though. Where are you now?"
"I just picked NEd up from school," Uncle Nigel lies. "I will be there in about five minutes. Will she be ready?"
"Yeah, she should be ready."
"Excellent. I will have Ned fetch her at the door," Nigel says.
"Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Jameson."
"it is no problem what - so - ever, Mr. [whatever Sam's last name is I don't remember CHEATING!]."

Ned smiles widely at his uncle, who turns around to wink at him.

"We'll just drive around the block and you can go fetch Sam," Uncle Nigel says.

------------------------

January 15, Sam's house, not at school

Sam spendt the entire day in her basement, her mom braiding her hair, napping, eating soup, and watching TV. it is been an emotional few days, spent almost entirely in the company of her parents. She looks up at her dad, on the phone, talking to someone she knows so well.

"Well, Sam, sounds like you, Ned, and Ned's Uncle Nigel are due for another outing. They'll be here in about five minutes," Sam's dad tells her.

Sam jumps up and runs to her room.

Her uncle's basement is large. It has four rooms -- a central room and two small basements. there is a bathroom with a toilet and a sink. Sam's family has to use the shower upstairs, awkwardly making their way throughout the entire house just to wash their hair.

Sam puts on real clothes -- she spent the day in her pajamas. For her own emotional well - being, of course.

Breaking down in front of every one like she did was thouroughly embarrassing. Break - breaking down in front of Ned was even worse. She could not believe how stupid she must have looked in front of him, tears streaming down her face, unable to control her emotions. She must have looked so weak to him. He was such a stoic, strong person. No matter what happened, he seemed to know what to do. But not her. She was confused, lost, and she acted like it. She never knew how to compose herself. She broke down in class when something went wrong.

Her parents didn't quite understand what the matter was. Sam didn't understand herself. Was she worried about losing Ned? Was she concerned about hanging out with an old guy? Was there something else at play?

She didn't know, and the thought of not knowing what made her want to cry only wanted to make her cry more.

She throws on some jeans and a flannel shirt and runs up to the other part of the house -- the part that isn't the basement.

Sam's uncle doesn't believe that she is being "helped" by staying at his house for her "emotional well - being." If a nine year old breaks down in class, tell her to buck up and send her back to class, not home. Or, in Sam's case, to his house. Thankfully, he is at work while Sam waits anxiously for Ned and Nigel to show up.

There is a knock on the door and Sam jumps up to answer it. Ned does not even have to knock a second time and Sam's already outside, her hat barely covering her head and her shoes untied.

"Where to?" Sam asks as she and Ned walk back toward the car. Ned shrugs, but Sam sees him flash a smile quickly before wiping his face blank. What on earth does he have cooked up?

Ned always was the schemer. The planner. The thinker. Sam had ideas, sure, but none were as good as Ned's. He was a genius. Or she regarded him as one. And he never seemed to think highly of himself, so Sam took it upon herself to compliment his ideas and brag about them for him.

She liked to brag in front of other kids, say things like "look what Ned came up with!" "Ned is so smart!" "Jeez, did you hear what Ned said in class today? he is so funny!"

He was clever and smart and funny and she adored that about him. He thought on his feet and often muttered things under his breath that made her laugh for hours. He calls Mrs. Bundey Bug Eye. How great is that?! It is very great. Very, very great.

She feels like she just sucks on his brilliance, like one of those weak little parasites on the underbellies of sharks, that eat the plankton and algae off sharks' stomachs. She doesn't want to be a parasite, so she does her best to protect him. Because he is not a shark. he is a sloth. And she is one of those bugs that lives on a sloth because the sloth is too slow to hit the bug but the bug will attack whoever comes near the sloth and give them poison injections that the sloth is immune to.

Actually, those kind of bugs don't exist. She'll have to ask Ned about it.

"Ned, are there parasites that live on sloths?" she asks.

"blah blah blah I am smart," Ned says [replace this yo!]

He was so smart. How did he even know that about sloths? No one knows anything about sloths! Except Ned is just amazing. There was nothing else to it.

"you are amazing, Ned," she tells him. "You astound me."

Usually when she says things like this, she means them, but Ned always takes it as a joke, or just laughs at her, no matter how earnestly she says it.

"Honest," she adds as an after thought, because maybe he will believe her after that.

"Sure," he says, obviously not believing.

They reach Nigel's car -- Sam's uncle's driveway is a long one! -- and head out on the road.

"Where to?" Uncle Nigel asks.

Ned leans forward, away from Sam, and whispers in his uncle's ear. Uncle Nigel smiles and drives off, Sam and Ned buckling their seat belts as he barrels down the surburbian street.

"Where are we going?" Sam asks, though she knows she won't get an answer.

"How are you feeling?" Ned asks. His eyes look full of worry. The lightheartedness from the surprise trip is gone.

"I am fine. Honest. Really. I will probably be back at school tomorrow, or you know Monday since we have a three day weekend. My emotional well - being is well taken care of!" she says proudly. Ned smiles.

"I have missed you," he says, then looks down at his feet. "Larry and Jeff asked about you today. They came on the swings next to me."

"Oh, yeah, Larry. he is a nice kid. I don't know much about Jeff though. he is just loud and brings a lot for the can drive."

Sam is good with people. Ned is good with words and such. They make a good pair.

"Oh, yeah. I don't know either of them that well. But yeah, they asked about you."

"What did they ask?"

"Just if you were ok. They saw you... well, they noticed you were gone. And they know we are friends."

"Good friends."

"Best friends," Ned corrects. He looks over and smiles, his eyes happy and lighthearted again. "Yeah. Best friends."

He seems happy with this realization of sorts.

"What'd you do when you were home?" Ned asks.
"Just watched some television. Hung out with mom and dad. Usual stuff," she says with a shrug. "Nothing interesting. What did I miss in class?"
"You think I am the best person to ask about class?" Ned says, a look of fake shock on his face. Sam laughs.
"I guess not. But maybe you knew something!" she says with another laugh. Ned barks out laughing. The two are overcome with the giggles, and Nigel looks back and smiles.

"We're here!" Uncle Nigel says, pulling up to an unfamiliar house to Sam.
"Where's... here?" Sam asks cautiously.
"This is Uncle Nigel's house," Ned says casually. "C'mon inside, I will show you around!" He says this with much more enthusiasm as he leaps out of the car, Sam slow to get out behind him.

Ned's voice is getting progressively more excited. he is nearly running to the door of his uncle's house. Sam smiles and runs along behind him, feeding off his energy.

Nigel's trailing along behind both of them, barely out of the car, just like a regular parent. Ned and Sam can't go inside because Nigel has the key.

"C'mon, Uncle Nigel!" Ned yells, a huge smile on his face, his hands cupped around his mouth. "Slow poke!" Sam laughs and sis down on Nigel's front porch, covered lightly in snow. Her butt is now wet. She just giggles and falls back and looks up at the cloudy yet sill bright sky. Ned does a little dance or jig of some sort and jumps up and down while turning around.

Suddenly, the two are wet and cold. Nigel attacked them with a massive snow ball!

"HEY!" Ned yells. "I saw that!" Ned leaps from the porch (elevated by two concrete stairs) and does a barrel roll in the snow. Sam leaps after him and runs behind a tree. Ned is standing out in open territory and Uncle Nigel is about to unleash another huge snow ball, aimed right at his head. Ned is too busy digging around trying to compose a snow ball of his own. Nigel laughs menacingly, aims, and --

WHACK!

Nigel's hit upside the head by a snow ball. His own falls to the ground and smashes. Sam came out of no where from behind the tree and got Nigel. Ned has now built a sort of fort in the open territory. Sam dives behind it to prepare for Nigel's counter attack.

"Thanks for saving me," Ned says, stocking up snow balls as fast as he can. Sam joins in.
"No problem. You looked like an idiot standing out there without cover. You were about to get nailed!" Sam tells him, her fingers forming the cold spheres with diligence.

There is a purpose to what they are doing. Sam feels it. Ned feels it. The energy is flowing between them. United against a common enemy (though there are no hard feelings), a goal in sight, the meager preparation about to pay off in the most significant, worthwhile thing possible: complete and utter annihilation of Uncle Nigel Jameson.

There was no way the old man could take out the two of them! They have numbers and sheer talent on their side. They rapidly form snow balls. it is an art turned assembly line.

"We'd better attack soon," Sam whispered. She peeked over their snow wall and could not see Uncle