Meant to Be (The Saving Angels 1)

“That was strange,” Sam replied, not looking quite as surprised as I felt. Instead she studied me with interest.

I felt a little flustered. It felt like déjà vu, or like we had met somewhere before, but that was impossible. The warmth from our handshake was still strong and I looked at my hand in amazement. Who was this girl?

Sam continued to study me with interest as I tried to make sense of what was going on.

Only mere seconds had passed, but I had the uncanny feeling that this girl and I were lifelong friends. I should feel foolish, but for some reason, I didn’t.

Finally, Sam broke the silence. “My real name is Samantha, but I changed it to Sam. It fits me better, don’t you think?”

It was like she opened a flood gate. Before I knew it, we were chatting away like we had known each other for years.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Sam asked after a few moments.

“I know, I can’t believe it,” I said, still a little flustered.

“They’re so funny how all they do is talk about some party, or whether their tan line is even,” Sam said, echoing my thoughts from earlier.

“Huh?” What a dope I was, here I was thinking she was talking about our ease with each other. She was so easygoing; she probably had no idea the inner turmoil I was going through as I tried to figure out why I was so comfortable around her. Here I was trying to make heads or tails out of why I had felt a surge of electricity shoot through me when we had shaken hands, and she could care less. She was probably this friendly with everyone and considered herself the welcoming committee. I felt my flush begin to deepen and looked down at the grass, mortified.

“I feel like I have nothing in common with any of them,” Sam said.

I looked up surprised. Sam was studying the group with the Frisbee much the same way I had just done a few minutes ago. I laughed in relief.

“I can relate. I always feel that way in school, more like an observer, than a participant…”

I was interrupted when I noticed that Sam and I had become the topic of conversation for a group of guys walking by.

“Who’s that sitting next to fridge,” I heard one of them ask.

“I don’t know, some new chick I guess, why, do you think you can score with her?” his friend asked.

Neither seemed to care that Sam and I could hear them. They stood there eyeing me like I was a steak or something.

I could feel a familiar wave of embarrassment approaching and tried to fight it back, but quickly realized it was too late. I knew that I needed to get out of there before Sam saw me get sick. The last thing I wanted was to puke in front of my new friend like a freak.

I scrambled to my feet. “I’ve got to go.”

Dusting the grass abruptly off the seat of my skirt, I spared one last glance at Sam before darting off. I felt a twinge of guilt by the hurt look on her face.

The first bell rang as I rushed frantically through the halls searching for a restroom. Students jostled me on every side as they rushed off to their classes. It took me a few minutes to realize I had no idea where the nearest bathroom was.

What an idiot, I had neglected to look for bathrooms when studying the school map. Stepping out of the flow of traffic, I leaned against the wall trying to get my bearings back. I was hoping to avoid an episode like this on my first day at my new school. The sweat was beading quickly on my forehead, and I felt a burning sensation rising up into my throat. I tried to calm down quickly before I made a spectacle of myself.

I clamped my eyes shut, knowing from past experience this would help speed the process along. It was best to let the waves run their course and hopefully I wouldn’t throw up. As soon as I could move again, I would find a drinking fountain and sneak some Advil. I didn’t know what the school’s policy was about taking over the counter medication. At my old school, you had to have a doctor’s note on file in the school clinic in order to take Advil. I opted out of bringing one in for the new school figuring I would only be here for a few months. I figured if I had an attack, I could sneak some. Of course, I neglected to put any in my backpack that I had checked and rechecked the day before. I was a dope.

The waves finally slowed their attack on me and I felt like I was regaining control.

My thoughts were interrupted when I felt a water bottle being pressed into my left hand, and two pills being pushed into my right.

“Close your hand around the pills, they don’t like you to take medicine without a note,” Sam murmured in my ear.

I palmed the pills while I took a shaky drink of water. As the water flowed down my throat, some of the sickness from the emotional wave began to leave me. After a second drink, I was ready to swallow the pills. I knew real relief was about an hour away, but felt I might be able to make it to a bathroom. Making it to homeroom on time no longer seemed feasible, but looking like I might puke was not the first impression I wanted to make in my new school, anyway.

Sam took the water bottle from me as she grabbed onto my elbow and began to steer me down the hallway. When the fogginess in my head finally began to clear, I opened my eyes, but could only make out the shapes of the people we passed. My eyesight would return to normal in a few moments once the Advil began its work on my damaged nerves.

I was more than a little confused that Sam had known how desperately I needed the water and Advil. It was if she knew exactly what I was going through, which was ridiculous.

“Can I help you girls?” asked a kind elderly voice.