Sam awoke the following morning the same time he always did, 7:30, on the dot. It was as if his body had that kind of internal clock that everyone always talked about. He wasn't sure if that was true, but he had always been able to get up when he needed to to make the 8:00 am bus. School was a priority for him and he would not dream of missing a single class. He rolled out of bed into his room which was a normal one for a guy his age, two windows, one door, a double-door closet, a dresser, and a side-table drawer that his alarm clock was on. He had a desk as well that sat before one of the windows, upon its surface lay a Mac PC that his father had got him for christmas years ago, a set of white paper and a pen beside it, all of Sam's schoolbooks were stacked neatly on the other side of the desk, with a stapled essay he had due for his American Literature class. The walls were adorned with posters of some bands he listened to, JET, one republic, Fall Out Boy. Upon the wall opposite his bed was a flat screen tv. Sam went to his dresser, got out a pair of boxers to change into, and head for his usual quick morning shower.
After closing the door behind him, he turned on the water, setting it to cold. He always liked taking cold showers, he didn't knowwhy, but he had a theory that it helped him focus better. He liked to think when he was in the shower. He stripped down, stepped in, and felt the cool water run over his thin tweedy frame. Sam's torso was skin and bones, "Thin as a stick" his sister Mandy used to tease him. He had tried working out once or twice but good never get into a good enough routine. It didn't quite matter to him, he ate healthy enough. Besides, he valued personality over physical fitness any day. Who would he even be trying to impress? No one. Sam had never had a girlfriend, had never even kissed a girl. Nor had he so much the opportunity to do so, barring a time in 3rd grade where Patty Saunders and he were pushed into a closet together at a party down the street. They had just stood there, not even coming near one another. It was possible that it was because he wasn't very good-looking, but Sam always believed it may have been his low self-esteem and fear of rejection that was the reason for his isolation. That and he really didn't care about sex anyways. Sure he liked girls, he was straight as could be. But he never jacked off, not once. Sam's family was a religious one, and that kind of thing just seemed....wrong.
While these thoughts ran through his head, he grabbed the bottle of shampoo from the rack to take care of his thin, sandy blonde hair, and it was here that the first change occurred. It was so small, so insignificant, that Sam didn't even notice, but the bottle of shampoo he was using had changed colors, it was no longer the Delsun blue brand that he usually had his mom buy, but the bottle was instead a firey red. on the side of the bottle in big letters was the name of the brand, "Big Sexy Hair". (It's a real thing guys, google it).
He spread the foamey hair wash through his folicles, making sure to get in everywhere, before washing it all away, and moving to the soap for his body. As he ran the bar of Dove over his pasty white skin, he noted all the many zits and freckles that covered its surface. He truly wasn't a looker in any way. As he washed his left arm, he noted a small scar upon his shoulder, his mind briefly flashing back to its origin.
He was 12 years old, it was over five years ago, where he was walking home from school because he missed the bus. He was halfway home, which meant he was in the ghetto part of the city. Sam and his sister Mandy went to school in the city, his family living in a suburb on the edge of town. Normally Sam's bus would have taken him through this part of town and he would have felt safe, but not today. His parents couldn't pick him up because they both worked full-time jobs, it was how they were able to afford living in such a nice house, and his mom even offerred to leave early to pick him up, but he told her he'd be fine, he could handle it. he was wrong. A group of guys pulled up in an imported 2002 Nissan Skyline. It was clear that's where the guys had spent all their money since their clothes were cheap, looked like they'd been bought at a goodwill, and their style of speech showed a clear lack of education.
"Yo, where you goin white boy? You missed yo bus or something?" one of them had yelled.
Sam had tried to ignore them for awhile but they eventually pulled up in front of him and exited their car. He tried to run, but they caught him by his backpack and dragged him to an alley, they tossed his bag around while he protested. He lunged for the bag and one of the guys, Enrique, had quickly pulled out a switchblade and cut him in the shoulder. Sam had winced and fell back, as the boys looked through his bag for cash or change. Inside they found a Shakespeare play he had been reading, "A Winter's Tale." They mock read it to each other in broken english, before ripping up the book and throwing it in a puddle. With God's grace they eventually departed, Enrique saying to Sam,
"We'll catch you later homes."
Ever since, it seemed like gangs just knew he was an easy target. it didn't help that he now flinched anytime he saw something sharp.
Kam ran in the same circles as the gang in that part of the city, so he made sure to torment Sam day after day. Sam would try to find different routes out of the school to avoid him and his "thugs", but he was often unsuccessful. Luckily Kam didn't know where Sam lived, so he only bothered Sam at school. Kam was an imposing black guy who was six foot three, and was completely ripped. Sam knew very little about working out, but he;d imagine that Kam must have to be benching every day to have arms like he does. Kam used to be a linebacker for the football team but was kicked out after some cops found him and his friends in possession of drugs. they went to ail for a bit, and for awhile Sam's life was easier, but before Sam knew it, Kam was out again, and he didn't have any football practices to distract him from making Sam's life a living hell. It wasn't like Sam was the only target, but it definitely affected him more than others, since he was already such a frightened guy.
Sam turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He toweled himself off and looked into the mirror. He had thin, tiny lips, pale green eyes, and more freckles and acne across his face. And....
that was odd.
His hair was brown. Almost black. It was definitely blonde yesterday, what on earth? he ran his hands through his hair, it was most definitely dye. He checked the bottle of shampoo that he used. Big Sexy Hair? He didn't remember using that before. But for some reason he couldn't recall what exactly he used to use before.
deciding to deal with the problem later, Sam pulled on his boxers, picked up his clothes, and tossed them into the hamper in the hallway. It was Wednesday, and his mother always did the laundry on Wednesdays. They had an incredibly efficient machine that his Dad had gotten for free since he worked for a company that sold appliances.
Sam headed into his room and check the time, 7:40, as he suspected. He picked the remote off his dresser and clicked on the TV. he liked to watch CNN or Fox News before school, to keep himself updated. He threw on a black polo shirt and a pair of bright blue jeans, before pulling on a belt, and putting on a pair of socks. He got his shoes out from under his bed, (a pair of sneakers), and took a minute or two to make sure his laces were perfectly tied. He check the clock again. 7:45, he still had some time to kill. He sat down at his desk and went over the paper he had written the night before, multitasking while he watched CNN. A few minutes later, he finished, feeling satisfied, and put his books and paper neatly into his backpack. He clicked off the TV and headed out the door, oblivious to the changes that were about to take place in his life.
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