Dirt

The two girls were never particularly close, but they were friendly. They had known each other since kindergarten and were seen as popular girls, but at different ends of the spectrum. While Melissa had been destined for Harvard, and head cheerleader, and class president every year since sixth grade, Sam enjoyed photography, parties, hadn’t done anything athletic since her lower school soccer team, and would be attending art school. Sam running for senior class president caught everyone off guard, mostly because she didn’t seem to care about school, and because Melissa was always president. But as the campaign commenced, the student body found themselves being more enticed by Sam’s graffiti campaign posters, and colorful t-shirts, instead of Melissa’s mundane free brownies and informative, but boring posters, stating her contributions, and running record. When the Election Day came, no one was sure who would win. People might vote for Melissa simply because she seemed more presidential than Sam in everyway. From Melissa’s pin straight, who wore a tiny black baby doll dress with boots, and trendy fedora, and smelled of cigarettes. However, many people might vote for Sam because she was such a different alternative. The student body could expect either a myriad of changes, that would make school a constant party, or the most uninterested class president yet, who would conduct student government meetings from detention.
• The school intercom cracked until a clear voice rang through: “the votes have been counted, and this year’s senior class president is Samantha Garret!” You could hear every class cheering from inside the individual classrooms. It was a very convenient coincidence that Melissa and Sam had this particular class together because Sam took the moment to be the gracious winner and apologized to her component Melissa was obviously upset; she didn’t seem to hear Sam. As Sam talked Melissa looked past her into a far distance, thinking of her defeat. She snapped into consciousness to hear, “Mel, seriously, it should be you, I don’t even know why I won,” but Sam’s voice didn’t feign sincerity well. All Melissa could think of was the blatant injustice of this act. How can they vote for her? How could they think such a reckless louse of a person would be better in this position than her? Melissa’s voice was choked but she managed to force out trite congratulations and walked briskly out of class. She didn’t go back to school for three days, and she didn’t answer her friend’s calls long enough to express her feelings.
• Sam danced on top of a table to the latest rap song, with a fun beat. Everyone was having fun at her victory party, and the alcohol was flowing. No one had thought of the incumbent since Tuesday, and everyone loved the New Mrs. President. Sam did feel a little guilty about Melissa though. She knew enough about her to know that achievement was her life, and defeat was unknown to her. That was why they never became close. Melissa was always too high strung for Sam. Sam always felt that Melissa’s general facial expression would suggest that she could barely breath, and that someone invisible person was constantly choking her. This didn’t change the fact that Sam was aware of what she had taken from Melissa. But Sam shrugged off her sympathy and reminded herself that it was about time that goody two-shoes learned to lose, maybe if she didn’t feel the pressure to always win that invisible choking man would go away? The inside of Sam’s boot vibrated from her cell phone. Her dress had not pockets so she put the phone in her boot so she wouldn’t lose track of it. The call was from Melissa, which was bizarre because she had been in hiding for days, so when she decided to emerge from hibernation, shouldn’t she call one of her close friends? “Sam?” asked Melissa. “Yea, hey girl, what’s up? Where have you been?” Melissa was almost a little disappointed when she realized Sam had been drinking. Because she was drunk the full terror of what was as going to happen to her would take longer to realize, and Melissa wouldn’t be able to enjoy her pain as much. “Just at home I wasn’t feeling well, but anyway, I’m outside at your party, and I wanted to talk.” “Oh my god! Yea girl come inside, we’ll go upstairs.” “No, no I’m afraid it’s too loud, could you meet me in the back yard next to the woods?” “The woods? Ha, yea sure, but why there? The party is inside.” “Oh I know, but it’ll will be easier for me to talk to you alone, and without interruptions, plus it’s the least you could do after taking my presidency.” Sam was slightly irritated by this attempt to guilt her, but she couldn’t change the fact that she did feel guilty, so she went. She walked in her backyard, but didn’t see Melissa, so she called. “Hey where are you?” “I’m just a little ways in the woods, next to the creek, it’s not far.” Sam had just reached the creek when she felt a blunt shovel smack the back of her head. She didn’t know how much time had passed but when she woke, dirt was filling her mouth whenever she tried to scream, and her eyes filled with soil every time she tried to open them. She was unable to do anything except feel a beetle crawl franticly up her neck and across her lips and into her hair. Her shoulders were weighed down by the moist heavy soil, and every time she tried to move the dirt would shift, and the weight on her throat would increase. There was an intense stinging from where the shovel had hit her. Her blood seeped from her head into the soil, and she waited for someone to find her, or die.