Work Text:
March 2024
Sammy Gutierrez is a nice person.
She knows it. Everyone who meets her knows it. It’s one of her proudest traits, being able to effortlessly put so much light into the world.
But that niceness came at a cost. She gave until she had nothing left to give, and the family that raised her kicked her out and left her coughing in the dust. Her niceness— no, kindness— grew back, but with a core of steel. She firmly resolved that no one, if she could help it, would feel as hurt and neglected as she once did. Her kindness became her greatest weapon against the world. She’s nice. After all this, she’s nice. And she’s determined to keep it that way. She will not resort to the violence that almost destroyed her unless she absolutely has to.
So her smile is saccharine, pinched and laced with tension, as she lays her hand on Brooklynn’s shoulder, and says to the guy that’s been talking to her for the past minute, “She’s not interested.”
“Come on, you don’t even want a drink? I’ll buy it for you.”
Sammy’s smile grows harder, colder edges as she fixes her eyes on him. “Sir, look, we’re just looking to have a girls’ night out. Neither of us are interested in meeting new people.”
His eyes sink to the floor, and for a moment, Sammy thinks he’s going to walk away, and that will be the end of that.
But he tries again. “At least tell me if you’re single.”
“I have a boyfriend,” Brooklynn sort of lies. Her and Darius’s secret-third-thing relationship is open, and Brooklynn has the occasional date with other people. But Sammy knows she wouldn’t want a creep like him. “And so does she.” She jerks her thumb at Sammy, and Sammy nods. She has pictures of her and Kenji that could conceivably be couple photos — and she knows, if she called him, he would lie to the guy without question, and spin some story about how they need to come home right now and look after their imaginary sick child. Yaz and Ben have a similar arrangement. They have escape plans.
“You’re no fun,” the guy remarks.
“I’m not trying to be,” Brooklynn bites back, and Sammy’s hand tightens on Brooklynn’s shoulder, already drafting the SOS text to the camp fam in her head. She would whip her phone out and text them now — but you don’t turn your back on a dinosaur. Not even for a second. You lock eyes, never breaking their stare, and make yourself as big and threatening as you can. Sammy’s glad she’s wearing a short sleeved dress; her very visibly toned arms are noticeable, and she hopes they make the guy think twice.
Sometimes, hopes get dashed.
“Hey, now, don’t be like that—” The guy lurches forward, his hands hungry, his eyes fixed on his target—
Sammy really is a nice person. As often as she can be. But she also has come to learn, when people are backed into a corner, sometimes the only way out is with fists. Running away, or playing nice, will only get you so far. Sometimes, there is something — someone — who steals all Sammy’s sense of morals and values — and Sammy is decking the guy before she even realises, her fist swinging right into the side of his face with a smack!
He drops to his knees (pathetic, Sammy thinks with a sick smile) and looks up at Sammy, his eyes spelling out what words could not. The shock, Sammy realizes, of being outmatched. She’s seen that look on boys who did not expect her to be stronger than them. She’s seen it on countless enemies the camp fam made on those awful islands as they realised the fully-unleashed might of six children with nothing to lose and everything to fight for.
And she sees it now, clear as day, reflected in the eyes of someone who made the grave mistake of underestimating her.
Sammy nudges his chin with her foot, forcing it upward, into her eyeline. For the killing blow.
“She said no.”
And this time, the guy listens.