Samantha Smiles

By Liz Fagan

My name is Samantha. I am a shy, thirteen year old tomboy from a small Nebraska town. Life is good, until something happens that changes everything.

I end up moving to the city where my grandpa lives, and go to a new school where I know absolutely no one. This is way more anxiety than I can handle. The first person I meet is Paige who has an entourage of groupies. You know the type, she’s pretty, rich, and a great athlete. I feel small and insignificant in her presence. After weeks of lonely lunches, I meet a boy named Danny. He makes me feel like I’m special, which is just what I need. Unfortunately, he’s also a lonely, angry boy who likes to create trouble. Stupid me, I follow along.

My grandpa is a scraggily bearded man with absolutely no taste in clothes. He’s not easy to talk to, but then, neither am I. As we struggle to get to know each other, I begin to think I might like the old guy. But that's when things get interesting. I accidentally discover my dad’s journal written when he was my age. Fascinating stuff, especially when I find out dear, sweet Grandpa may not be someone I care to know, much less live with.

You’ll have to read my story to learn more. Just believe me when I say life can sure throw you some curves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liz Fagan
• Release date: Apr 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301630271

Liz Fagan

I am a retired health insurance executive born and raised in Omaha, Nebraska with a brief two year residency in San Francisco in the early 1970's. I love to read good fiction. My favorite authors are Jodi Picoult, Elizabeth Berg, Harlan Coben, and Linwood Barclay.Samantha Smiles is my first attempt at writing a novel.

Book preview

Liz Fagan Samantha Smiles

SAMANTHA SMILES

By Liz Fagan

2013 Liz Fagan Copyright

Smashwords edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

This ebook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual places, events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1 – Home Sweet Home

CHAPTER 2 – The Eyes Have It

CHAPTER 3 – Girly Girls

CHAPTER 4 – Sometimes Life Stinks

CHAPTER 5 – Hanging In There

CHAPTER 6– Fun and Games

CHAPTER 7 – Family Time

CHAPTER 8 – Meeting Grandpa

CHAPTER 9– The Decision

CHAPTER 10 – Welcome to Omaha

CHAPTER 11 –The Jailbird

CHAPTER 12 –Learning About Dad

CHAPTER 13 –The Hideout

CHAPTER 14 - Hijinks

CHAPTER 15 –The Mystery Box

CHAPTER 16 –Holiday Fun

CHAPTER 17 –An Unwelcome Visitor

CHAPTER 18 –Troublesome Conversations

CHAPTER 19 -A New Best Friend

CHAPTER 20 –Mystery Solved

CHAPTER 21 –The Runaway Wheelchair

CHAPTER 22 - A Not So Holy Virgin

CHAPTER 23 –Here Comes The Judge

CHAPTER 24 –A Come To Jesus Meeting

CHAPTER 25 - A Voice From the Past

CHAPTER 26 –Be Careful What You Wish For

CHAPTER 27–Making Things Right

CHAPTER 28 - Full Speed Ahead

Chapter 1

Home Sweet Home

The sonogram shows a penis, the doctor said. My parents believed him. They decided to name their newborn son, Sam. But life doesn’t always play by the rules.

My name is Samantha, Sam for short. Like it or not, my parents found out real fast that what you wish for and what you get are two different things. Thank God, they overcame their disappointment and loved me anyway.

It’s the summer of 1983 and I am twelve years old. I live in the small mid-western town of Arnold, Nebraska. Population: 750 folks. The closest city is 30 miles away, population 3,000. In our town we don’t have fancy restaurants or movie theaters, but we make the best of it. If we want to buy a comic book or two to while away a summer afternoon, we go see our buddy, Ralph Cheater. Ralph is a meaty looking, bib overall-wearing, jowl-faced storeowner who had the ingenuity to name his business, Ralph’s. I suppose he figured using his last name wouldn’t make for a smart business decision. Want some snacks and sodas? Ralph has ‘em. How about some bait for a fishing trip? A new flannel shirt? Need to gas up your car? You guessed it, we see Ralph for all our shopping needs.

My dad owns the local newspaper and my mom helps him. It isn’t exactly the New York Times. Mostly it’s just town news, local feed store ads, and school sports reports. Dad likes to wander into Ralph’s store from time to time because he knows Ralph is good for knowing anything and everything about town goings-on. That’s where Dad gets some of his funnier headlines and stories. Here’s an example:

PREGNANT FEMALE SURVIVES GUNSHOT WOUND.

The article goes on to describe how Mike Abbott accidentally injured Hannah, the cow, while out shooting coyotes. Hannah’s owner, Matt Hayden, was none too happy. He was quoted as asking, How in the world could someone mistake a thirty-pound coyote for a fifteen hundred pound cow? Mr. Abbott insisted that he saw a coyote on the hill several yards behind the cow. I guess my aim was a little off, he explained.

My dad, being the kindhearted publisher that he is, didn’t mention the fact that Mike’s poor eyesight was no doubt the result of too many hours spent in Jim’s tavern drinking his favorite beverage of Jack Daniels and coke … heavy on the Jack, light on the coke.

Here’s another favorite:

DON’T BLAME THE DOG. IT WASN’T HIS FAULT!

Turns out a local farmer didn’t like the judge’s decision in the Cherry County divorce court, so he planned his revenge. His scheme was clever. He hung some industrial cotton in the barn. After a few days, the cotton was chock-full of the aroma of cow flatulence. The man stuffed the smelly cotton into tin cans, and then hid them in his ex-wife’s house. For weeks, his ex-wife blamed her dog, Buster. After spending over $500 in vet bills, she found the offending cans and realized who was really the culprit. The judge got wind of the smelly situation (not literally of course), and awarded the wife her husband’s cherished prize bull.

Who’d ever imagine that stories about pregnant and/or farting cows could be so entertaining? Yes, the life and times of cattle are part of our daily on-goings in good old Arnold.

My mom is an incessant reader and movie addict. Name the show, and she can tell you the actors and the parts they played. She’s also a sports nut. She loves to follow golf, tennis, football, baseball; you name it.

Dad, on the other hand, can’t tell the difference between a hockey stick and a baseball bat. He likes to read too, but usually boring non-fiction stuff. When I was younger though, he would read the funny papers to me while I snuggled with him in bed on Sunday mornings. He loved it when I laughed at the comics. He always used to call me his little Samantha Smiles.

Then there’s my sister, Jo. I love her, but she kind of drives me nuts. You know how some people seem to get the best of everything? Well, that’s Jo. She never has to study but still manages to get straight A’s. Next year, she’ll be leaving for college on a full ride scholarship. Jo is so popular that she’s been named both prom queen and homecoming queen. Of course, she’s the prettiest cheerleader and dates the cute quarterback of the football team. It’s as though she’s following the script from a movie.

Me, on the other hand, what can I say? I have to study hard just to get some A’s, and mostly B’s and C’s. My teeth are kind of crooked, and I have a scar over my right eye from an old baseball injury. Oh yeah, I guess I am better than Jo at sports, but that’s about the extent of our comparison. Seems like she got all the good genes and I got the leftovers. But, you know what? Mom and Dad love us both the same.

Mom grew up in my hometown of Arnold. Her mom and dad were older than most, I guess. My Grandpa Mike died of a heart attack before I was even born, and my Grandma Jane had cancer. I don’t remember her much except that she was real skinny and walked with a cane.

My dad grew up in Omaha. His parents were Jack and Maggie Wilson. My grandma Maggie also died before I was born. Grandpa Jack still lives in Omaha. Its on the other end of the state or, as far as I am concerned, the other side of the world.

Probably the best part of living in Arnold is being able to spend time with my close circle of friends. There’s Lori, very pretty and innocent looking; Rick, the devilish one; Jackson whom I love because he giggles at all my jokes; Maureen, the smartest; Robbie, athletic, cute and probably my best buddy. And then there’s me, the shy one. We call ourselves the Six-Pack.

Living here in the Midwest provides lots of fun regardless of the time of year. On snowy winter afternoons, we six-packers will drag our sleds up to the top of the tallest hill in town. With snow-crusted eyebrows and the wind whipping against our scarf-wrapped faces, nothing can stop us. No cares, no worries. It doesn’t matter who rides with whom. There are no fights, no jealousies.

Hot, summer days are spent playing outside, until darkness forces us to answer our parents’ call. There are plenty of games of hide and seek, relay races and kickball. On rainy afternoons, Lori, Maureen, and I like to sit on the covered front porch of my house feeling safe from the rainfall just outside our reach. These are usually the times we get into deep discussions about which celebrity is the best looking. It’s not always easy to decide. I mean, there can be different criteria involved ... like is he cute, or is he handsome? Although these meaningless conversations are not exactly solving the world’s problems, it’s a fun way to spend an otherwise gloomy day. Especially when there’s nothing else to do but listen to the gentle drumbeat of raindrops overhead. On sunnier days, my guy friends and I sometimes play catch in the street, and argue about which baseball team is going to win the pennant. The boys like the Dodgers, and I like the Cardinals. One thing we can agree on – hating the Yankees.

We six-packers are all looking forward to the seventh grade. Our favorite challenge is to find ways to play tricks on teachers. If summer has to end, at least we have that to look forward to. As I later found out, a big surprise was in store for us.

Chapter Two

The Eyes Have It

Welcome to the 7th grade, the message on the chalkboard said. My friends and I expected to see elderly Mrs. Vanicek as our teacher. She had taught at my school ever since I could remember. In fact, I was looking forward to seeing her familiar face. Even though she was a grumpy looking woman, rumor had it that she was an easy grader, and, befitting her age, had less than perfect eyesight and hearing ... meaning we could get away with murder.

But as I looked up at the front desk, I realized that either Mrs. Vanicek had ditched the skirt, shaved her head, and grown a beard or, God forbid, we had a male teacher this year. Mr. Sonzini was his name. In contrast to his seemingly friendly message on the blackboard, he welcomed us into his classroom by saying, Sit down and zip it! as he ran his finger across his mouth.

The burly, bearded one proceeded to set his ample behind against the front of his desk and introduce himself.

Mrs. Vanicek has retired and moved to Arizona and guess what, you lovely little hellions? I am your teacher this year.

His voice was loud and gruff. He reminded me of an over-zealous amateur actor ... trying very hard to play the part of the nasty villain. I looked over at Maureen and silently conveyed with a tilt of the head: Who does this guy think he is? She reciprocated with a nod, accompanied by a small, sly grin creasing her pursed lips.

After a cold look of intimidation, Mr. Sonzini continued, Now, boys and girls, I don’t want to scare you but you should know this; I am a recently retired Air Force sergeant. What does this mean? It means, my dear little ones, please don’t be thinking you can pull the wool over my eyes. Believe me I know every trick in the book. An amazing arch of his right eyebrow accompanied another one of his quiet stare-downs.

I looked around at my fellow Six-Packers. Were they thinking the same thing I was, that this guy, while scary, was probably just a big blowhard? Later that day I found out that we were all in agreement.

We met in Mrs. Essink’s room to discuss the situation. We figured we’d be safe there since she always left school early to feed her precious horses.

Of course, he’s trying to frighten us, Jackson said, but, hey, we have a reputation to uphold.

Darn right. Maureen chimed in, I guess he doesn’t know about our past exploits in troublemaking. I say, let’s call his bluff and see what happens.

And so the planning began. Everyone agreed that a male teacher presented a new and interesting challenge. It was time to prove what we were made of. We put our heads together and after a few moments of silent cogitation, Maureen piped up with the first idea.

How about if one of us girls screams ‘MOUSE!’ and starts running out of the room? If we all start to follow, I’ll bet you the entire class will run right out after us.

Ha! I like that one a lot, said Rick.

Jackson sat scratching his head. Nah, he said. That won’t work. At our house, my mom and sister don’t run. They find the closest chair, stand on top of it, and wait for the ugly little critter to go away.

Lori’s brows furrowed with concern. Yeah, well, what if somebody does that and falls? Or if they run, could somebody be trampled in the process? I’d hate for somebody to get hurt.

Well, snickered Robbie, I suppose a screaming little girl could panic and fall over her own feet in fear of that big old mouse!

Shut up! I replied in my best sarcastic voice. What if there really was a mouse? How do we know you wouldn’t bolt in fear, Mr. Macho Man?

Robbie turned and stuck out his tongue at me.

Then Rick, apparently worried that we were losing focus, stood up and took the lead. Let’s keep brainstorming and come up with more ideas. Then we can vote on the best ones. So, what else? he asked as he picked up the chalk and put the first idea up on the blackboard.

When it became clear Rick intended to record our meeting, I got up and snuck a look up and down the hallway, making sure there were no teachers skulking around.

Hey, be sure you erase the board before we leave, I warned. No sense leaving around evidence. Heck, they already suspect us of all the other dirty tricks we’ve pulled.

Good thought, Sam, Rick said. Okay? So, again, anyone else with an idea?

More silent thinking followed. It was as though we were corporate gurus thinking up a new marketing scheme for our latest invention. Heads down, our minds at work.

Hey, I got one, Robbie shouted out, How about if each of us coughs, two or three seconds apart?

I like it, I said with a grin. Let’s try a practice round.

Taking up the challenge, everyone started coughing in various fits and starts, each of us trying to outdo the other with who could do the loudest and most obnoxious sounds. Between coughs there was a lot of giggling.

When we finally ran out of creative barks, Jackson chimed in. Remember that time in third grade when we shoved Steve Parsons into the coat closet and the door jammed shut? That’s when Freaky Joe the Janitor had to break down the door to get him out.

Yeah, said Robbie, what does that tell you about how decrepit our building is?

Rick’s face lit up. Hey, speaking of coat closets, that reminds me. A few years ago my brother and his friend brought a plastic bag full of pea soup and creamed corn. It looked just like puke. They poured it onto the floor of the coat closet. It freaked kids out. We could do the same, only I could pretend to puke and spill the gushy stuff onto the classroom floor!

Awesome, laughed Jackson. I felt the same way. Fake puke in the classroom. What could be better?

After more discussion, we decided to start small. We knew our better pranks would have more impact if we saved them for later in the year. Our first trick would take place the following morning. It was one that had worked before with other teachers. The meeting was closed and I walked out with the others laughing and talking about our great plans. As I made my way home, I had a strange feeling that I was forgetting something. Almost there, I remembered what had been nagging at me. We didn’t erase the blackboard! I raced back and found Rick doing just that.

Crap, he said as he worked with the eraser. I just remembered myself!

It was then that we heard someone walking down the hallway. Mr. Sonzini stuck his head inside the room just as Rick had almost finished his work. The words pea soup remained.

What exactly are you two up to? Mr. Sonzini asked.

Oh nothing sir, Rick replied, Just making some menu suggestions for the cafeteria lady.

Hmmm, pea soup hunh? Strange choice for middle school kids, I must say.

Mr. Sonzini stroked his beard in seeming disbelief. Fortunately, for whatever reason, he decided not to pursue things further.

Okay, then, he said. See you in the a.m.

After he was gone, I let out a big sigh.

Whew, I said with relief. That was a close one.

No kidding! Rick agreed.

Rick and I walked out of the building arm in arm, feeling lucky that a possible disaster was averted. When we got to the corner of Ashton and Maple, it was time to part ways and head to our respective homes.

I can’t wait to see how ‘Sergeant Drillmaster’ reacts to tomorrow’s prank, can you? Rick asked.

"Absolutely. It should be fun. See you, Rick.

***

This is how things turned out. With Mr. Sonzini’s back turned, Rick stuck his tongue under his front teeth and blew out a nice juicy sounding fart. When Mr. Sonzini turned around, Lori raised her hand and said sweetly, I’m sorry, Mr. Sonzini, it just slipped out! We all snickered under our breaths. Even the goody two-shoes in the class joined in.

Is that so? Mr. Sonzini asked. Because it sounded to me like it came from Rick over there. He did his eyebrow arch (he was good at that), glared at Rick, and then turned his attention back to the class. Now, as I was saying before the interruption...

Feeling disappointed and somewhat foolish, I slipped lower in my seat. When I snuck a look at Lori and Rick, I saw both of them blushing with embarrassment. I think we all knew then we had our work cut out. The guy was good, but like I said, we thrived on challenges.

***

At our family dinner that night, I talked about what had happened. I described our fart trick in full detail, even making the noise with my tongue and lips so everyone would get the full effect. For some reason, my parents didn’t think the story was quite so funny. I swear sometimes adults seem to have no sense of humor. My sister, Jo, laughed and asked questions; while Mom and Dad sat strangely mute.

This wasn’t the first time recently that I had noticed a difference in Mom and Dad’s personalities. Lately, unlike times past, if I came home only a few minutes