Title: Cheerfan

Author: Alan Hitchen

Email: darkmere2000@yahoo.co.uk

Archive: http://www.realmoftheshadow.com/alan.htm

Disclaimer: Popular is the property of Touchstone Television. Swimfan is owned by Greenestreet Films LLC.

Pairing: Sam/Brooke

Rating: PG-13

Information: Based on the Popular episode 'All About Adam' by Wendy MacLeod and Ryan Murphy, and the feature film 'Swimfan' by Charles Bohl & Phillip Schneider.

Summary: It's Kennedy High. Senior Year. And love is in the air.

Part One

Brooke looked up from the acceptance letter, a broad smile wreathing her lips. "Brown. You got into Brown. See? I said you were Ivy League material."

Sam appeared to be amazed by her step-sister's foresight. "So, you're adding omniscience to your many talents now?"

"Only where you're concerned. And because I knew you would, I've got something for you to mark the occasion."

Brooke leaned off her bed and opened the desk drawer to retrieve a small white box. She offered it to Sam, who opened it with a flourish. It contained an exquisite enamelled pendant on a gold chain necklace.

"This is beautiful," Sam gasped. "Thank you."

"Here, let me put it on." Brooke stood up and fixed the chain about Sam's neck, nuzzling it sensually as she did so. "And you're wrong you know," she whispered into her ear. "This is pretty. You are beautiful."

Sam's tongue darted into her cheek. "Is this a plan to get you laid?"

Brooke put on her most innocent expression. "Is the plan working?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," said Sam, just before she kissed her lover, "it's working just fine."

"Sam! Brooke! You're going to be late for school!"

"Okay, Mom, we're coming," Sam groaned, then added, quietly but with feeling, "or given five more minutes we would have been."

Brooke just grinned and grabbed her bag to follow Sam down to the car and off to school.

...

"It's stuck. Most of them do, the maintenance budget doesn't run to a can of oil apparently. You need to jiggle it like this until the tumblers click. There!"

Brooke stepped away from the locker to allow the owner access. The handsome young man smiled in gratitude.

"Thanks. As you've probably already guessed I'm new here. Adam Rothschild-Ryan. And you are?"

"Brooke McQueen. Pleased to meet you Adam, and welcome to Kennedy High."

"Thanks again." He raked an appraising eye from top to toe. "Hmm, tall, slim, athletic, very pretty. I'll bet you're a cheerleader."

Brooke blushed. "Er, yes, I am. Captain of The Glamazons in fact."

"A cheerleader. I just love cheerleaders. Well, thanks for the assist, Brooke. I'll see you later perhaps?"

Brooke couldn't help smiling back. "Perhaps."

...

"You got into Brown, that is so great!"

"Thanks, Lily."

"Where exactly is that?" Harrison asked.

"Providence, Rhode Island," Sam replied, flicking an anxious glance at Brooke.

"Three thousand miles away from SFSU," Brooke added with a wan smile.

"Really?" Carmen began. "Now, Pablo and I are..." Everyone groaned reflexively. "What?"

"Everything you say begins 'Pablo and I'," Mary Cherry explained. "Now, Harrison and ah..." Everyone groaned again. "What?"

"Congrats, Spam," Nicole cut in. "Now could everyone else knock off the lovey-dovey stuff, I'm trying to keep my lunch down."

"And that would be such a change for you, wouldn't it, Nicole?" Lily observed wryly.

"So? I've lost a meal or two now and then. At least I didn't lose my husband."

"Hey, that's not fair! Josh and I..." Lily stopped, though this time no-one had groaned. "Well, Josh and I didn't work out, as my mother never tires of reminding me, but at least..." She began to weep. Sam reached out a comforting arm to her friend and hugged her.

"Nicole!" Brooke admonished. "Did you have to?"

"Well, he ran off to Minnesota with mommy dearest at the first opportunity, didn't he? What does she expect?"

"A little sympathy from the Devil wouldn't go amiss," Sam said pointedly. "Remember, like we showed you?"

Brooke glared sharply at Nicole with her 'you owe me' look to suppress any smart reply. And as Lily continued to sob so ended yet another fun-packed lunch-break.

...

At the end of the day, Brooke slid back behind the wheel of her Chrysler Neon Highline, adjusted the mirror, checked all was clear and began to reverse out of her parking spot. A warning shout stopped her dead. "Hey!"

Brooke leaned out of the window to apologise. "Sorry." Then she recognised who it was. "Oh, it's you."

"Yes, me. Forgotten my name already?"

"No. Sorry, Adam, I didn't see you. Is this your car?"

"No," he said, regarding the neighbouring sedan with disdain and kicking its dusty rear tyre, "mine's in the shop for a tune-up."

"Oh, could I give you a lift then?"

"Thanks, that would be nice," he replied, and swiftly settled himself into the passenger seat.

Expensively dressed in shade of grey (this year's colours) right down to his Gucci loafers, Brooke idly imagined what sort of car he drove. A metallic silver Porche Boxster sprang to mind. His address confirmed her impression of wealth. "1171 Cedar. It's off Redwood."

"Yes, I know."

Adam raised an enquiring eyebrow. "Don't tell me you live there?"

"No, it's just that - it's a nice part of town."

"The realtor said exclusive, but I guess nice covers it too," Adam replied with a grin.

...

"Well, here it is, home sweet home. Would you like to come in and look around?"

"Thanks, but I'd better not. Things to do, you know?"

"Fair enough, some other time then?"

Brooke nodded noncommittally, Adam got out, waved her goodbye and then she returned home.

It was only back at The Palace that Brooke noticed Adam's billfold was lying in the footwell. She picked it up and sighed. She glanced at her watch; no cheer practice and Sam working on the Zapruder Reporter (Sam had banned her from the newspaper office because otherwise nothing got done) meant that she had time to kill. Plenty of time to return the wallet and take the tour, she decided. She started the car and selected reverse.

Barely had she parked, than she saw Adam coming down the drive to meet her.

"Hello, Brooke, what brings you back here?" he enquired.

"This," she said, brandishing the billfold at him.

"Oh," he patted his back pocket where it wasn't, then smiled. "That's lucky. The house is empty and so is the fridge. I was just going out for a bite to eat, would you like to join me? My treat. What do you say?"

Brooke smiled, and said "Yes".

...

"Small burger, small fries, small Diet Coke. Well there's a first. Two firsts. One; I've never seen anyone order a small anything before, and two; I've never seen a cheerleader eat a burger of any size before."

Brooke paused to swallow, and watched Adam start on his jumbo chicken salad sandwich before replying.

"I used to have food issues, which put me in hospital a couple of times, but that's all behind me now. I eat sensibly and still can have a treat like this once in a while because I'm not counting every calorie like I used to. And as for the size thing. I did a term paper correlating portion size to obesity I could show you. But somehow I don't think you need the lecture." 

"Thanks. Like you, I eat well and I keep fit. I'm a swimmer - competitive at my last school - but they don't have a swimteam here."

"No, not since April Tuna..." Brooke suddenly thought better of explaining that unpleasant incident here. "Well, it's a long story."

"Principal Krupps said something about lack of resources, money being tight all round and stuff... So, no boyfriend then? No hunk in a Letterman jacket hanging on your every word?"

"No. I had one of those a while back, but not any more. What about you?"

"Well, there is someone back in New York. But we agreed that the long-distance thing wasn't going to work. So we parted as friends and now I'm a free agent."

"Nicole will be pleased to hear that."

"Nicole?"

"My friend. My boyfriendless friend."

"But I thought..."

Brooke cut him short. He had made his interest in her more than plain. "I'm with someone. Sam."

"Oh. Lucky guy."

"Lucky girl," Brooke corrected with a smile and a blush.

"Really?" Adam sat back and looked perplexed. "I thought my gaydar was pretty good. You didn't register on it at all."

Now it was Brooke's turn to be confused. "You, er, you have gaydar?"

"It's just an expression. Look, I'm sorry if I've been barking up the wrong tree here, but no harm, no foul, right?"

"Right." Brooke wrestled with her conflicting thoughts. She was gay now and in love with Sam, wasn't she? So why the hell did she find Adam's attentions so flattering, and him so attractive? "No harm," she agreed. "Now what are we having for dessert?"

...

"So, this is my very lovely house - again - would you like to see it now?"

"Okay, but just the short tour please."

"Of course. Just the essentials."

Sometime later Adam opened one eye. Brooke, already back in her bra and panties, was hurridly dressing to leave his untidy bed of sex.

"Was it that bad?" he queried with a throaty chuckle, knowing it was not.

"No, no, it was good," she replied off-handedly as she continued to dress.

"I'd say sensational," he interrupted, reaching for her again. She twisted away from his grasp and turned to face him.

"Adam, no, I'm sorry, but I've made a mistake here, a big mistake, a really big mistake. No offence, but could we just forget this ever happened, please."

Adam's expression clouded, but then he nodded. "Nothing happened," he agreed, and then he smiled.

...

Brooke slipped quietly into the house. There was just enough time to freshen up before Sam returned she hoped.

"You are so busted!" Sam said, unexpectedly appearing from behind, and Brooke's heart died within her.

Part Two

Author's Notes: The kite string analogy has been borrowed from 'Tangled' written by Jeffrey Lieber. Brooke finds herself way out of her depth.

~~~~~

"W-what?" Brooke stammered out.

"You said you were going to have a quiet night in," Sam went on. Then she whispered, "And I was hoping to find you wearing that negligee I bought you when I got back."

"I was studying with Poppy," Brooke lied. "Book reports don't write themselves," she added loftily. Then slipping past Sam she bolted upstairs, heading for the safety of her room. But Sam was too quick and darted in before the door closed.

"Brooke, have you been crying?" Sam took the silence for confirmation. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking," she said, reaching out to stroke Brooke's arm. "I shouldn't have left you alone."

"Sam," Brooke began, squeezing back the tears and preparing to confess all.

"No," Sam went on softly, pulling Brooke in for a hug. "It'll be fine. We'll be fine. Going to college is not a seperation, it's an opportunity. You'll get to know your mother better and I'll get a good name to put on my resume."

Brooke put on a wry smile. "And a first-class degree. Your dad would be so proud of you. I know I am."

Sam blushed at the compliment. "And you sound just like Mom."

Brooke smiled again, genuinely this time, perhaps it was going to be alright after all. "Let me get a shower, then..."

"Yes?" Sam said expectantly, thinking about that negligee again.

"Then could you just hold me?"

"Just hold?" Sam queried, somewhat disappointed.

Brooke nodded, anything else was out of the question right now. "Just hold."

...

The tiny spray of forget-me-nots protruding from the latch intrigued Brooke as she approached her locker. She twirled the light-blue flowers under her nose and grinned. Sam could be such a romantic when she wanted to be. Turning, she wasn't surprised to find the object of her affections watching her. But before she could thank her, Sam was taking the posy and kissing her cheek in thanks.

"Brooke, you shouldn't have, you know what Lily thinks about cut flowers, but I'll forgive you just this once." Sam was so happy that Brooke didn't have the heart to disillusion her. "So, what about Mary Cherry's party tonight?" Sam continued. "Did you know she's hired Penn and Teller to do magic tricks? Now if they'd run that eighteen-wheeler over Nicole that would be a trick worth seeing!"

...

"Brooke McQueen and Sam McPherson."

The sober-suited doorman, that Brooke immediately recognised as Godfrey doing yet another dead-end job, scanned the list and ticked off the names.

"Welcome to Miss Cherry's birthday party," he announced in an unenthusiastic monotone and pressed the button to open the gates, "do enjoy your stay at the Cherry residence."

After entering the house, where the party was already in full swing, Brooke realised there was a loose end she hadn't tied up yet and decided to fix it while she could. "You go on," she said, already moving away, "I want a word with Poppy."

"Okay," Sam replied, "I'll go say hello to the birthday girl. If I can find her in this crowd, I think she's invited the whole school."

"Poppy, hi, nice dress."

"Thanks, you too," replied the pretty Latina, automatically looking for Brooke's other half. "Where's Sam?"

"Around. Look, could you do me a favour? If anyone asks I was studying with you yesterday afternoon."

Poppy's expression betrayed her unease. "If you say so. Do I need to know why?"

"Best you don't."

"O-kay. Hi, Nicole."

"Hey, Poppy, Brookie, the cheer-gang's all here then," declared the petite blonde with her customary ebullience.

"Nic? What are you doing, I thought you were grounded for life?"

"I was, but 'Judge' Judy granted me a reprieve. Don't worry, I'm not driving and I promise not so much as a near-beer will pass my lips. He, on the other hand, is a different matter."

Brooke turned to see who had caught Nicole's eye. It was Adam. And he was talking to Sam!

"Anyway, B. Ho got bored, took all the bling - and the pool boy - and took off for the bright lights of Vegas."

"Sam, Adam," Brooke hurriedly interjected.

"Hi, Brooke, I was just catching Adam up on the wonderful world of Cherry. You've met Adam already then?"

"Yes, we've met," Brooke replied cautiously, her tummy twirling with anxiety.

"Over a stuck locker at school," Adam answered smoothly. "But no need to worry, Brooke just couldn't stop talking about her perfect girlfriend."

Sam quirked an eyebrow, that wasn't like Brooke. Was Adam gay as well, she wondered.

"Brooke, aren't you going to introduce me to Spam's friend?"

Brooke winced, being subtle was not Nicole's strong point. "Adam, this is Nicole Julian. Nicole, Adam Rothschild-Ryan."

"Adam, hmmm. Do we have English together?"

"No."

"Pity. Well, that's the small talk done. Let's dance."

Brooke felt relieved as she watched Nicole lead him away. No way would she let him go tonight. Now, perhaps, she could enjoy herself with Sam.

...

Mary Cherry excitedly tore open the box to get to the gift. Her eyes bugged in disbelief when she saw it. "It's a tee-shirt!"

"It's 100% cotton," Brooke enthused.

"With a slogan," Sam added helpfully.

"Nine out of ten cats prefer les-be-yans."

"It's a joke, Mary Cherry," Brooke explained to the devastated Texan. "Our real present is underneath the wrapping paper. It's the Alexander McQueen you wanted."

Sam stopped giggling and whispered urgently into Brooke's ear. "Wasn't that the most expensive thing on her list?"

"I got a discount," Brooke hissed back.

"A five finger one I hope."

"Sam! No, I pointed out a few flaws, they were desperate to get rid, so they practically gave it to me. Let's face it only Mary Cherry would ever wear something like that it's hideous... Do you like it?" she asked.

Mary Cherry was practically in tears. "Brooke, Sam, ahm overcome, it's just perfect. Ah lurve it."

...

"Did you like the flowers?" asked Adam.

It was now near the party's end. Sam had gone to freshen up before leaving and Brooke had moved away from the overly-loud music that was giving her a headache.

"Er, yes, they were lovely." Brooke had guessed they were from him - a gesture of apology she assumed. She noted he looked pleased at her response. Perhaps too pleased. Her stomach began to knot again.

"She's really nice. Sam, I mean. Sweet and uncomplicated. I see that."

"Adam, this is really awkward," she began, but before she could expand on this Sam came back.

"Hey, Adam, escaped from Nicole I see."

He smiled broadly. "Yes, but not for long I think."

"Too bad. Anyway, apologies for butting in, but the last dance is mine, Brooke?"

Brooke gratefully took the proffered arm and melted into the crowded dancefloor, watched by Adam's envious eyes.

...

Next day after school, Brooke returned home to find a strange car blocking the drive. Instinctively she knew to whom the red Ford Mustang belonged.

"You have a visitor, a handsome visitor," said Jane with a knowing smile.

Brooke frowned. "Where?"

"I left him in the nursery. Do you want tea as well?"

"No. And he doesn't either."

She found Adam cooing over Mackenzie's crib. "It's so nice to meet your family at last," he said without looking up.

"At last? You've only just met me."

He met her gaze with a degree of puzzlement. "It doesn't feel that way."

Brooke took a breath. "Adam, I think you've misunderstood our relationship."

"We had sex."

"Yes, but that was wrong so now we're just friends."

"Friends visit other friends."

"Yes, but you're coming on a little strong. I usually invite my friends, then they come round."

"Okay, I hear you, invitation first."

"And as I haven't invited you, could you leave now, please," she asked, and to her concealed delight and Jane's evident disappointment, he did so without demur.

...

The next day Brooke got several texts asking for a meet. She didn't answer. Next came the phone calls. She didn't answer them either, she just switched off her cell. So then came the e-mails - 63 in total and all from CheerFan85 - and the last one had an attachment. The jpeg revealed Adam in all his naked glory just as Sam's delighted grin loomed over the screen. "Gotcha!"

Brooke scrambled to close the window before Sam saw it then did a shut down just to be sure.

"I interviewed George today," Sam announced proudly, perching on the desk.

"You did?" Brooke replied distractedly. "And he actually spoke to you?"

"He did. I was doing a follow-up on Krupps's student mentoring scheme. You remember George volunteered and took on Big Bertha Muffin, the seven-year senior?"

"I remember - who could ever forget - but he didn't want to talk to you then, or ever come to that, so what's changed?"

"Well, success spoiled Rock Hunter, but it's softened George Austin."

"Which, without the film reference, means?"

"Thanks to his help Bertha is certain to graduate this year."

"That's great."

"And she's considering further education."

"That's also good."

"And now they're dating."

"That's... they're what?"

"Yeah, I know, unbelievable. But you should have seen them together - it was amazing. Just like us." Sam quickly checked the computer room was empty before leaning in to give Brooke a long and passionate kiss.

"I don't deserve you," Brooke said afterwards, and the guilt made her truly mean it.

...

Brooke found the Glamazons awaiting the arrival of April and her latest ideas to outdo Nixon at the next big game. As she began her warm up exercises she realised that someone else was missing from the squad. Mary Cherry, Carmen, Exquisite Woo, Poppy, Emma and Emily were present. So where was Nicole? A sudden chill ran down her spine. She turned to face the bleachers. There Nicole was - energetically making out with Adam.

"Ah think it's lurve at last for our Nicky," said Mary Cherry, pausing to blow a kiss to her own beloved waving from the stands. Brooke dumbly nodded in agreement.

The rest of practice went by in a blur. Then, as the others hit the showers, Brooke hung back to speak to Adam alone.

"So, you and Nicole are together now?"

"Not really. I'm just doing what you wanted. No-one will suspect us now. But don't worry, Nicole means nothing to me, I close my eyes and think of you when we kiss."

"Adam! There's nothing to suspect. I'm with Sam. Don't you get that?"

"No, I don't. Come on, Brooke. She's cute I'll admit, but what's this semi-incestuous tryst doing for your rep? She's holding you back, both socially and academically. I hear she's Ivy League now, and where are you heading for - community college?"

Brooke bridled at the insult. "San Francisco State, actually," she shot back. "And you're so wrong about my 'sweet and uncomplicated' Sam. She's my kite string. She doesn't hold me back, she keeps me up."

Adam was incredulous. "What?"

"Here's the thing. To the casual observer it would appear that the string is holding the kite back, that without the string the kite would easily escape the earth. But the reality is that the string is the anchor, the structure that allows the kite to soar. Without it, the kite crashes to the ground."

"You're the kite. She's the string. So, what am I then?"

Brooke was emphatic, determined that Adam would finally understand her and go away. "Nothing, Adam. To me you're nothing."

...

The day after, Brooke found Sam waiting for her outside shop class as usual. But why was Lily comforting her, had she been hurt?

"Sam, are you okay?" she asked anxiously. The answering slap took her breath away.

"How could you, Brooke? How could you?!" accused Lily, as the tears continued to stream down Sam's face.

"Lily, I... Sam, please!"

But it was too late for explanations, Sam had gone with Lily and somewhere she knew Adam was smirking in triumph. Poppy, who'd witnessed the event, took her friend aside. "What happened, what's going on?" she asked urgently.

"I made a mistake," whimpered Brooke. "The biggest mistake of my life."

Part Three

Summary: Could things get any worse?

****

Brooke spent a lonely lunch outside, munching an apple and wondering if Eve had ever felt so bad after tasting the forbidden fruit. The rest of the day was equally miserable, but at least Adam didn't show his face, had he shot his vindictive bolt and moved on at last?

...

"Is Sam home yet?" Brooke asked Jane.

"No, she's sleeping over at Lily's tonight. She's just phoned to tell me."

"Oh," Brooke replied with a fatalistic shrug of the shoulders, "that's okay, it wasn't important," she explained. Then she went up to her room and cried.

...

The next day, Brooke found Mr Krupps and Ms Ross busy organising the crowd in the hallway. "What's going on?" she asked Poppy.

"Locker check. Seniors only. I think Krupps has had a tip-off about something."

One by one, the students were called forward to witness the search. Brooke desperately wanted to speak to Sam, but her friends, in particular Lily, wouldn't let her near. And then her name was called.

"Brooke McQueen?"

Dutifully she stepped up to open her locker for inspection. It was just a formality, and Brooke was still trying to catch Sam's eye, when a piercing voice filled the hallway with a cry of shocked surprise.

"Oh, mah God, you'all, Brookie's got a bong!"

"Yes, Ms Cherry, we can all see that. Ms McQueen, would you care to explain this?"

"I... er... no..." she spluttered, totally lost for words.

"Very well. Ms Ross will continue the locker check and we will go to my office and phone your parents."

...

Mr Krupps aimed to be firm but fair in all matters, and after laying out the circumstances, concluded on a positive note.

"In view of the fact no actual drugs were found, only the paraphernalia, and Brooke's previous good character, I'm inclined to be lenient on this occasion. Assuming you take all steps necessary to prevent any repetition."

"They will be," said a grim-faced Mike.

"So, we're agreed then, the punishment will be one week's suspension and dismissal from the Glamazons."

Brooke bent her head in shame.

...

Brooke emerged from the bathroom and handed over the sample container to her father. Her expression of injured innocence said more than words ever could.

"It's not that I don't trust you. It's just that in this day and age... I have to be... sure. As a parent, who loves you very much, I can't afford to get this wrong. I dropped the ball once before. I won't do that again."

"I know, Daddy. I understand."

She watched him walk away, followed him, then stopped at Sam's open door. She did not look pleased to see Brooke.

"Hey, don't look to me for any sympathy, he made me pee in a cup as well."

"You know I don't do drugs," Brooke pleaded.

"Do I? Seems to me I don't know you at all," Sam replied coldly, got up from her bed and shut the door in her face. But almost as soon as Brooke had moved on, the door opened again.

...

Brooke found Jane busy filling the washer in the utility room. She perched herself in the far corner and waited for Jane to finish her task before speaking. "It wasn't mine," she began.

"I know," Jane replied softly, moving toward her neo-daughter to perch beside her and take her hand in  solidarity. "So?"

"It was a joke. Brooke McQueen: Stoner Chick, caught out in public. Isn't that just hilarious?"

Jane frowned. "No. So who's the comedian?"

"I can't say. Well, I can, but I have no proof."

"You can tell me," Jane encouraged. "You can tell me anything."

"I don't know where to begin," Brooke sighed.

"Try the beginning."

Brooke thought for a moment and decided to go for broke and come clean about everything. "That would be the night of Nicole's accident," she replied. "The night that Sam saved my life."

"Sam saved your life?"

"Yeah. I was in the middle of the road and Nic was coming straight for me when Sam pulled me out of the way. Nic swerved and braked, did a 360, and smashed sideways into a fireplug. It was barely scratched but her mom's Jaguar was a write-off. Nic was shocked but okay. Heck, we were all shocked. We drove her home before the cops turned up and Judy smoothed things over after that."

"And you kept all this secret. Sorry, when did this happen?"

"The night of the Junior Prom... The night I first kissed Sam." Brooke, heart pounding, waited for the roof to fall in on her.

But instead of that Jane gave her an understanding, if not entirely approving, smile. "Brooke, I'm not blind, or deaf. I know what's been going on between you two."

Brooke was amazed. "You do?! Does Dad?"

"No. I considered telling him, explaining that lots of girls, and boys, experiment at this time, but I thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie."

Brooke breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Thanks."

"So, the experiment is over then?" Jane enquired.

"Excuse me?"

"I know about you and Adam. But I think you haven't told Sam about him yet, don't you think that's unfair on her?"

"But, I'm not..."

"Why else would you rush him out of the house before they could meet each other if she knew?"

"No, no, no, you've got it all wrong, that isn't it at all."

"It isn't?"

"No. I love Sam. Very much. I do. Really. Adam was the experiment, not Sam."

"I'm confused."

"So was I. I was flattered when he came on to me. But when I told him that I was already committed to Sam he said he didn't think I was gay. That's why I slept with him. I couldn't make Sam do the long distance thing for me if I wasn't going to be there for her, or not be what she wanted me to be. But what if I wasn't really gay, or just not gay enough? I had to know. I had to be sure. So I thought I'd find out."

"And did you?"

"Yes. He was good, I'll give him that, but afterwards I just couldn't wait to get away from him."

"Why?"

Sam opened the door. Her eyes were wet with tears. "You heard her, Mom, she said she loves me."

Jane, diplomatically, thought it time to leave. "I think you two should talk this over," she said, and shut the door behind her.

"I had an idea she knew," Sam confessed. "I guess Mom was hoping that college would come, we'd go our separate ways and that would be it. I think she still does."

"I'm so sorry, Sam," said Brooke, moving forward to kiss and caress her lover's face. "You're everything I ever wanted. You're everything I ever could want. I hate what I did to you. I trust you completely. I just didn't trust myself. Forgive me?"

Sam nodded, they kissed passionately, and all was forgiven.

...

Reconciled, things soon returned to near normal for Sam and the suspended Brooke. But thanks to Mary Cherry, the Kennedy grapevine was soon abuzz with unflattering news about Adam. He decided to go to the source of the rumours and talk to Sam directly.

"I need you to stop telling lies about me," he requested in a reasonable tone, "and to let Brooke go," he added with a smile.

Sam was unimpressed by the charm offensive. "Listen up, Cheerboy, I've cracked your nut. The truth is out now. Brooke is back with me and all's right with the world."

"I don't think so," he said. Now there was an edge to his voice and the smile had gone.

"What? You think you've 'cured' her. That she's yours now, but I'm somehow holding on to her against her will. Is that it? Dream on."

Unexpectedly, he just smiled again and turned to leave. "Thank you," he said. "I'll do just that."

...

"Oh, Brooke, you're so good. Don't stop!" Adam cried out.

Brooke, however, did stop and her blonde head rose angrily from his crotch. "My name is Nicole!"

"That's what I said," he protested.

"No, it wasn't. Damn it! Brooke was right, you're obsessed with her. You were coming on to her, not the other way round. I knew I shouldn't have planted that bong."

Adam laughed. "You planted that bong to get back at Brooke for past slights and to take her place as captain of the Glamazons, it's nothing to do with me."

"But you told me to do it."

"No, I just suggested it."

"Liar."

Adam didn't like that, he grasped Nicole hard and stared deep into her frightened eyes. "I'm starting to think you don't appreciate me," he said menacingly, "but then I'm starting to think that doesn't matter any more."

...

Sam, acting on a hunch, used her computer time at the newspaper to investigate Adam's past. She soon located some information in an on-line edition of the Skinner Sentinel, the official publication of the Leonard Skinner High School, under the headline: Popular Cheerleader Injured in Freak Accident.

A minor road accident had become a major tragedy when the seatbelt tensioning system failed to prevent Wanda Richard's head from moving too far forwards and the airbag had gone off right in her face. She now languished in a coma, while her passenger, her boyfriend, Adam, had walked away with barely a scratch.

The words were thought provoking enough, but it was the picture that clinched it. The photograph with the article showed that if Brooke had been a brunette she would have been a near double for Wanda.

Sam immediately printed the article out and set off for home.

...

With a throaty roar from its powerful turbo diesel motor, the maroon Toyota Hi Lux pulled out of the side turning to fall in behind Sam's little brown Volkswagen Beetle as she left the school grounds.

"What's up with this guy?" Sam said to herself, as the following vehicle grew ever larger in her rear-view mirror. "The road's clear, why don't you pass?" She waved it on, but the pickup just growled back at her and swiftly moved in for the kill. "What the..."

Sam fought to stay on the road as the truck rear-ended her, but in seconds all was lost as the Beetle's front wheel caught the kerb and the car flipped over and over.

The Toyota, brakes screeching, ran wide, mounted the sidewalk and smashed into a lamp standard.

Shaken, but not injured, Adam stepped out of the truck and surveyed the scene. Luck was with him. His crash had not been part of the plan, but as there were no witnesses he could press on with it. He climbed back in and pulled the insensible Nicole into the driver's seat.

Drunk in charge of a stolen vehicle and known not to like the victim of her dangerous driving, the poor little rich girl made the perfect fall guy.

He glanced back at Sam's car. There it lay, wheels in the air like some giant insect, its owner trapped, dead or dying, underneath. It was perfect all round, he thought. Now Brooke would be his at last.

Part Four

"Your daughter is extremely fortunate. Basically it's just cuts and bruises. But as she was rendered unconscious for a time we will be monitoring her for the effects of concussion at least overnight."

"And then?" Jane asked anxiously.

"All being well she can go home to recuperate."

"Thank you, Doctor Martin," said a grateful Mike. "Can we see her now?"

"Of course."

"Where's Brooke?" Mike asked, turning to find she wasn't with them.

"She's gone ahead," answered Jane. "Let her have five minutes alone with Sam."

"Why?"

"Just humour me." They stood silently together for a minute before Jane added, "You could hug me, you know, it's not just the patient who needs soothing at a time like this."

In the private room Sam lay with eyes closed, trying not to breathe as it hurt so much, while waiting for the pain meds to kick in. Brooke gently kissed her and Sam's eyes snapped wide open, miraculously the pain had gone.

"How am I?" Sam asked, wondering if the doctor had told her the truth about her injuries.

"You look awful," Brooke observed with a brave smile, "even more than usual - angry red and purple are just not your colours - but otherwise you're fine."

"Thanks. You look absolutely beautiful," Sam replied with utmost conviction, receiving another kiss as her reward. "Did anyone get the number?" she asked afterwards.

"What number?"

"Of the truck that hit me."

Brooke's expression turned to thunder. "Yes. It was 666, the number of the bitch."

"Don't you mean, the number of the beast?"

"Not when we're talking about Nicole. And after all we did for her last time. First me. Now you. She was the one driving the truck that hit you. And she was drunk - again!"

"No, she wasn't."

"Yes, she was, stinking drunk."

"No, I mean she wasn't driving."

"But the police arrested her at the scene."

"Maybe, but the driver I saw was tall and dark, not short and blonde."

An awful thought struck Brooke. "Adam?"

"Could be."

Brooke immediately stood up. "I'll tell the police."

Sam reached out to grab her. "No. If he's set up Nicole to take the blame he's sure to have an alibi. No. I think I've got a better idea." She was about to explain what she meant when the door creaked open. A big smile spread across her face. "Hi, Mom, Mike, when can I go home?"

...

"Okay, is everyone clear on what they're doing? Brooke?"

The brunette cheerleader, dressed in the sky-blue uniform of a Skinner Skylark, dragged herself away from the mirror in which she had been admiring herself.

"I impersonate Wanda Richards and try to get Adam to confess that he ran you down."

"Lily?"

Lily focused the camcorder on her friend, who was propped up in bed, clutching a clipboard and ticking boxes as she ran through the plan. "I record everything on video to show the police."

"Bertha?"

Bertha's large fist slammed into her palm, making everyone jump. "Why don't I just beat the creep up?"

"Bertha!"

Bertha sighed. "If the creep starts anything I beat him up."

"Close enough. George?"

"I'm driving the van and backing Bertha up if there's any trouble."

"Good. Right, off you go. Good luck. And, Brooke, please be careful."

Brooke grinned, wiggling her behind at Sam in a teasing manner. "I will."

...

Brooke knew Adam liked to jog in the park, and having found him there Brooke set off in hot pursuit of her mark. "Adam!" she called out. He stopped and turned and was shocked by what he saw.

"Wanda?!" But the surprise didn't last long. "No... it's Brooke. Done a little research I see. I'm flattered, and that wig really suits you, but there was no need, I like you just as you are."

Brooke thought furiously, this wasn't working. 'Wanda' was supposed to throw him off balance so she could quiz him. She needed another approach and fast.

"Oh, good," she simpered, deciding to vamp him instead, "I thought you'd gone off me."

Adam's eyes lit up as she reached out to caress his manly chest before moving in for, she hoped, a disarming kiss. He winced in pain and an image of Sam's bruised body shot into her mind. She realised she didn't need a confession, she already had the evidence!

"What's up, Adam, hurt yourself?"

"It's nothing," said Adam, now wary again and pulling away from her "I strained a muscle in gym class, that's all."

"Really? Not hurt when you crashed the truck into the back of Sam's car, then?" Adam turned pale, his unsettling calm had deserted him.

"You can't prove that," he replied unconvincingly.

"I think I just have," Brooke rejoindered. "Bye bye, Adam. I'll see you again, in court, but I won't be cheering for you then." She turned and sprinted back to the van, eager to share the news with the others.

...

Back at the Palace, Sam was totally confused by Brooke's empty-handed return. "You didn't get a confession?"

"No, not a direct one anyway, but we don't need it. Look, you've got a bruise running from left shoulder to right hip, right?"

"Brooke, you've seen me, I'm one huge bruise all over, but, yes, you're right. So?"

"You got that from your seatbelt, right? Well, he's also got that self-same bruise. It proves he was driving the pickup when it crashed."

"Proves?"

"Well, maybe not all on its own but it'll prove Nic wasn't the driver for sure."

"How's that?"

"She'll have a bruise running from right shoulder to left hip because she was in the passenger seat."

"Oh yes. I never thought of that. When did you get so smart?"

"Sam, I've always been smart. Why have you only just noticed that?"

Sam swept her eyes over her ravishing girlfriend's taut body. "Let's say I've been distracted," she grinned.

But before they could kiss, Brooke's cell-phone interrupted. Her consequent smile lit up the room as she relayed the information to Sam.

"Adam's been arrested."

However, some hours later, the next call was not such good news.

"Detective Ramirez says he can't hold him, there's not enough evidence, and Nic still can't remember anything of what happened." Brooke's shoulders slumped. "We're back to square one."

...

Brooke dreaded her first day back at school after the suspension; but it passed off uneventfully enough, with Adam, thankfully, nowhere to be seen. She returned home that afternoon to find the Palace strangely quiet. It wasn't long before she discovered the reason why.

In the kitchen, behind the breakfast bar, Jane's unconscious body lay on the floor and she knew in her bones that Sam would not be in her room. But before she could do anything her cell-phone rang. It was Adam - with instructions.

"Fancy a dip? The school pool. No cops. Now!"

Pausing only to put Jane into the recovery position, and to grab a knife she prayed she wouldn't need to use, Brooke raced out and headed back to Kennedy, phoning for an ambulance as she did so.

...

The pool was as dry and empty as it had been since the Tuna incident. The vast space, unused and shuttered, full of dusty shadows and brooding menace, had become a daunting arena of uncertainty.

"Where are you?" said Brooke, edging slowly into the bars of afternoon sun slanting in from the imperfectly covered windows.

"Right here," answered Adam, appearing alone at the far end of the pool.

"Where's Sam?"

Adam's expression darkened with anger. "Sam, Sam, Sam. It's always Sam. Getting between us. Keeping us apart. She made me do this!"

"Adam, please, don't. Just let her go," Brooke begged.

"She doesn't love you like I do, Brooke. No-one will EVER love you like I do. You can stop all this if you just admit that you love me."

"I can't. It's not true."

"But you love her."

"Yes."

"Enough to save her life?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Adam began to ascend the diving boards and went right to the top platform. Once there he dragged the bound and gagged Sam to her feet and, holding her up facing him, pushed her backwards, towards the unguarded end of the diving board.

"Tell her and I'll let her go."

Brooke remained silent, unsure of what to do, and terrified that Sam would be pushed to her death at any moment.

"Tell her you love me, dammit! You do, I know it!"

Brooke regained her voice and tried at least to delay the inevitable. "What about Wanda? Did you love her like you love me?"

"Yes, I loved her," he admitted. "But she didn't love me. We were going to be forever... until the accident. I waited, for months I waited, but she never came back to me. If she loved me she would have, that's how I knew she didn't." His eyes gleamed. "And when Sam dies you'll know she didn't love you either."

At that moment Sam's knee made hard contact with Adam's genitals, spinning him around as she ran for the ladder. Winded, and in extreme pain, he staggered back until there was nowhere left to stagger to. As if in slow motion, Brooke watched Adam fall to his death onto the cold, hard tiles below.

...

It was a close-run thing but George won the day for Kennedy yet again and snatched the trophy from Nixon's hands with a last-second touchdown.

"I'll wager Bertha's getting lucky tonight," Emory informed his friend in a jocular tone.

"And she's not the only one," Harrison replied with glee.

"Is that all you boys ever think about?" asked Lily.

"Pretty much, yes," replied Harrison. "And your point is?"

"I give up!"

As the losing team left the field, Nicole led the Glamazons into yet another crowd-pleasing display of well-drilled gymnastics. Basking in the adulation of the many, she didn't notice that, on the back row of the bleachers, not everyone was standing and cheering her performance.

"That should be you down there," Sam complained. "I'm sure she was the one who planted that bong. She had your locker combination, Adam didn't."

Brooke nodded and patted her girlfriend's arm. "It doesn't matter. Let Nicole have her moment of glory - after all, she's got nothing else."

"But..."

"I don't care about cheerleading anymore. I've got you and that's all that matters now," said Brooke, kissing her beloved. "No matter what happens to us in the future that's all that ever will matter. And that's a promise."