Sam

by Allegra Goodman

She has a mother named Courtney and a dad who is sort of around, sort of not. He lives ten minutes away, but he is not

“He’s never anywhere.” “Yes, he is. He’s somewhere.”

“Where’s your hoodie?” Courtney asks Sam. It’s going to be cold, and Sam will be sick if her dad stuffs her full of junk. Cotton candy is not dinner. Sam races out to Mitchell’s car, which coughs a lot. “What’s wrong?” Courtney asks from the doorway when Mitchell tries to start it. “It’s fine,” says Mitchell. The car coughs again and then again. In the back seat, Sam shuts her eyes and prays silently, Please please come on I’ll be your best friend.

“We’re outta here!” shouts Mitchell, and they are hurtling down the road. The day is faster. The trees are brighter, the road is twistier. Sam’s house is gone, along with Courtney holding Noah up above the leaves.

Think about that. Do your work. Put everything away. You’re in second grade, not pre-K. Line up. Walk quietly to Art. No running no shouting no fighting. If you’re making sponge paintings, dipping sponges green and blue, you can’t throw your sponge at other people. You can’t, but Sam does, so she has to go to the sink quietly. Quietly! And wash brushes. Sponges are for paper, not for people. Why would you throw a sponge? Because a sponge is juicy-wet. You throw yours and then boys throw theirs right in your face! You duck behind the easels and you’ve got green paint dripping down your shirt until the teacher catches you.

“Don’t go!” “Come on, Sam. It’s late.” “But I can’t sleep.” “You can if you want to,” Courtney says, because if Sam wants, she can read and sleep and do everything the way she is supposed to.

this is super interesting … to try writing about the past as if in the perspective of a child….. it’s a unique challenge and constraint to set up for yourself and as a writer im super interested to see how goodman achieves this. so far, her simple sentences and syntax prove effective, the sparse prose laying bare the facts of sam’s life and hinting at possible adhd disorder.

You have to understand these things. You have to study, because if you don’t do your work in school, you’ll live in other people’s houses. You’ll have to borrow a leaf blower. You’ll borrow all the time. You will be twenty-six and you’ll work all day but then you can’t go anywhere. You can’t go out at night; you can’t even get a good night’s sleep. You will never catch a break.

Sam’s house is small and rusty red. Inside, the kitchen is pinewood and all the other walls are gray. The living room has wires in the corners. If you pull them you might electrocute yourself, so watch it. The house is not finished, because Noah’s grandpa and grandma bought it as an investment. Grandma B. is rich. She owns a lot of property, even though she wears old golf shorts. Grandma B. lets them live here because of Noah. That’s why Courtney and the kids can stay for free. Someday they will have to move, but Sam isn’t worried.

He’s got Noah on there, but not Sam, because she is not his kid. Also, he doesn’t like Sam. This is why Jack does not like Sam. She does not listen she talks back she whines she ruins everything. Noah is just little, but Sam should know better.

Sam opens her eyes at the wrong time, and she gets a face full of water. “How do you know?” she splutters, because she can’t believe that. He doesn’t live with them because her mom won’t let him. “Sam.” That means don’t even start.

i think the relationship with the mother will be a focal point throughout this book. already we’re seeing some “cliche” ish things such as sam blaming her mother for her fathers lack of presence in her life. i know this book has some other elements like that such as the crush on climber trainer guy sam develops partly as a result of missing a strong paternal role model in her life. we’ll see how effectively these tropes are leveraged.

Jack never takes Sam anywhere. He yells at her because she steps in the paint tray. He swears at Sam, and Courtney snaps at him—but families help one another, so when Sam comes down with strep and stays home from school, Jack watches her. She has strawberry tongue. This is what Pat, the nurse practitioner, says. Sam takes pink bubblegum medicine and sleeps all morning while Jack paints her mom’s bedroom.

She holds on fighting, but he throws her off. The room springs sideways and she lands in a heap on the front steps. When she tries the knob, it’s locked. The cement is cold. She’s out of breath. If her dad were here, he would break down the door. No, he would pull the key out of his hat. Then he would break Jack. Her dad hates Jack. Once when he came to pick up Sam, he called Jack a lying piece of shit.

Sam could go to the neighbors, but they are far, and what if they call the police? They will take her away. Jack will say, Good. She hugs her knees to her chest and looks up at the sky. She closes her eyes and bows her head and prays, Please help me. Tell me what to do.

He starts talking about how he isn’t angry anymore. His voice is quiet, but he is a bear, underneath his skin. He says, “What if we go out for ice cream later?” but she won’t even look at him, so he gives up. He turns around and leaves the door open, just a crack.

Fight, fight, fight all night. He says, Look at my arm. She bit me like a fucking dog.

ugh this is horrible.

about it.” “I still have a fever.” Sam glances at the Employees Only door. “Listen,” says Jen. “Your mom won’t let anything happen to you.” “But she can’t be everywhere at once.” Jen laughs. “You are a piece of work.” She always says this, and Sam can’t tell if it is good or bad.

“Hi,” Sam answers softly. “Happy birthday!” he tells her, even though he is five days late. “Thanks.” “How does it feel to be EIGHT?” “I don’t know.” “The same?” “The same.” “I got you something!” “What?” “It’s a surprise!” “Okay.”

“I’ll come down, and you’ll come up.” “How will I come up?” She looks through the café window, and there is her mom sitting in the car. Probably she already knows about this. It makes Sam mad because nobody tells her anything. “How far away is it?”

She just looks down at those big shoes, while her dad says, “Room to grow!” If he were really magic, he would tap her shoes, and they would shrink to fit—but then he would know her size already, without looking. He would know her size and he would know what she is thinking—that she never wanted shoes or Boulders without him.

She likes everything quick. If she is climbing, she will scramble up as fast as possible. If she’s got homework, she waits until the last second and scribbles down the answer. Her mom says, Slow down, but Sam likes being done. Her mom says, It’s not a race. She also says, I was just like you. Halle takes her time. On the wall she’ll hang there, thinking about her next move. Sam just goes for it. For this reason, she falls a lot—but then sometimes she nails it.

they’re in the same group for bouldering. The way it works is you have to sit in folding chairs while you wait your turn. The folding chairs are all in a row facing away from the wall. That’s so you can’t see the handholds or learn from what the other kids are doing. No sharing beta in a competition.

it’s super interesting the glimpse into the world of climbing …. i also feel like the way the author breaks it down in the voice of child is super effective

Halle tells Sam that a long time ago her dad was married to someone else, and he has two older daughters who are grown up in New York City. One is a stockbroker, and one is a lawyer. Sam says her dad doesn’t have any other children. She is the only one.

and he can’t be bothered to see her. what a piece of shit

She can see it. She is standing on the podium in Danvers with first place in bouldering. Halle takes second, just one step down, and in the audience, Courtney and Jim and Lucy and Noah are all cheering. Sam’s dad is missing but it doesn’t matter, because winning is so good. Sam is famous; she is rich; she is standing far above. That’s her dream. The problem is her mom won’t let her compete. Fourth grade is hard, but Courtney doesn’t care. Sam has to catch up, or she can’t climb. Courtney will be the bad guy. She will be that person if necessary, because she wants Sam to learn something get a job do better in her life.

That’s just the way it is. You pay your bills. You lock your door. You do your homework. Everybody’s got a job. You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it. And write neatly. And lose the attitude. Fractions and poems and maps of the world. Sam works nonstop, even at Halle’s house.

On the phone, Mitchell says he is really back. He has a place to live, and he is getting a job at Roger’s Garden Center. Sam thinks, Really? He says how glad he is and how he missed her, and he is sorry he got delayed before. He was planning on being there, but he got held up. He says I have so much to tell you.

“No.” “When I was your age, I never got a ribbon for anything.” “You never wanted a ribbon.” “How do you know?” “Because that’s how you are.” “It’s true.” Her anger flares. “You never try for anything.” “I’m trying now.”

careful,” Mitchell says. “Your mom’s a stickler.” Sam says, “Next year is high school and that counts for college.” Mitchell smiles, but he says, “Hey, I had a strict mom too.” Mitchell’s mom, Samantha, passed on before Sam was born. She was a tough cookie and a teacher. Sam is named after her, but not exactly. Sam’s whole name is Sam, because she is her own person. “But I appreciate Samantha now,” says Mitchell. “She made me read, even though I didn’t want to.”

Jack has his friends who come to drink and party. He has a job in construction, and he can’t get fired because he is working for his dad. He gets whatever he wants, and now he wants Noah. It’s almost like Jack does it out of spite, because he knows Courtney is just getting by. Noah has a new ATV, while Courtney has no money to fix her real car. Courtney has to ask Grandma Deirdre for help, and that takes a lot of phone calls.

school Sam meets a few sad people in the cafeteria. They are girls who sit around talking about how tired they are and how much they hate everything. It’s a relief, but it’s depressing too. Courtney says, “Why don’t you get together and cheer each other up?” Meanwhile, Sam has physics lab.

finally drags herself out of bed. “What happened?” “Not good.” That’s how Sam’s family is. Nobody tells the truth—not really. You’re supposed to know, or guess, or just get older. Now Sam is older, and she can’t get a ride, and still nobody will say what’s going on.

Sam is so angry she opens her door. “No, Sam!” Noah yells, and suddenly he’s sobbing. “No, don’t walk on the highway!” Sam sinks back in her seat and her mom shouts, “Now look what you did!” Sam closes her door, but Noah is crying and crying, because he thinks she was about to kill herself.

“You’re frustrating,” he says, “because you’re doing great and then you get stuck, and it’s like you’re paralyzed.” “When I was younger, I climbed better.” “Younger, like seven?” “Yeah.” “You know why? Because you weren’t so nervous all the time.” His voice is challenging, his eyes amused. Sam thinks, You know what makes me nervous? You. He tells her, Calm down. Be strategic. Attack the wall. “You know what I’m saying?”

He remembers everything she does, and she remembers everything he says. Go, go, go. No, that’s not it. Again! He has two voices. Harsh in the gym and gentle in the car. He always says, “I know you’ve got it in you.” He tells her that like it’s a secret between them.

ugh i’m so uncomfortable

He likes to figure out proofs, but he doesn’t care about world history or Spanish, or any of that stuff, so he has a lot of free time. When he was younger, he used to be destructive, and he went to a special middle school. That’s where he started juggling. It’s self-regulating. “You should try it,” he tells Sam after physics, as they head down the stairs.

She wonders whether Corey will show up and kind of hopes he won’t. He likes her, and she thinks less of him for that. She thinks less of herself too, because he’s crazy.

Corey thinks she should get high first, and she tries that too, but no. Even after his blue pills, when she’s half dreaming on the black leather couch in his dad’s basement, she doesn’t want to kiss him. She doesn’t want to get undressed either. He’s always licking and pawing her. It kind of tickles and it’s embarrassing. Why does he want to? Her body is thin; her breasts are small, not like the ones you see online. She barely likes to look at herself, so why would he? She would rather let him touch her through her clothes and then sleep in all her layers, sweatshirt zipped up to her chin, legs curled under her, not a person, not a girl at all. She does not want to be his actual girlfriend. She admits it to her mom, and Courtney says, “Then don’t be!” She tells Sam, If you like him it’s one thing, but if you don’t, forget it. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.

“Look,” her mom says on the way home. “Better safe than sorry.” “I don’t even like sex!” Sam blurts out. Her mom is laughing. “What?” Sam demands. “Nothing!” —

i kinda really like this characterization because contrary to a lot of media, i think this novel stresses just how childish sam is - she’s still a child! instead of imbuing her with an adult sexuality, the awkwardness of how it is at first is emphasized

sweat. He watches her push her hair off her neck and she half imagines what he does next. Half imagines and half knows this is his finger tracing her neck down to her collarbone down over her breast. She can’t even breathe, but then his touch is gone, and his hands are on the wheel again. Was that real?

“I’m sorry too,” says Courtney. “I don’t want to say this, and I don’t want to believe this, but some things can’t be fixed.” Her voice is so quiet and so sad, she doesn’t even sound like herself. She sounds like she is talking about her whole life. She’s talking about Sam’s dad, and Jack, and Adam too. Adam is with someone else. That’s why Courtney broke up with him. It turns out he was with this other person all along—but it doesn’t matter. Courtney is over it. There are a lot of things she hated about him—like he is a Neanderthal and he has guns. Sam clears the table, and her mom washes the dishes, and with the dish towel, Courtney dries her eyes. “I’m going to find him,” Sam says. “And then what?” her mom asks.

She knows she is getting stronger. She can feel weird little muscles in her back and arms. She’s getting smarter too. She can almost trick her mind into staying calm. She takes a breath and pretends she is the person she was before, the steady one, the one who knows what she is doing. But it’s not tricks or luck or magic that helps. It’s time. During the week, she works with Kevin at the Y. He knows her mom can’t pay him, but he is Mitchell’s friend.

Sam says, “No, I’m really not.” But her mom thinks missing is the answer. Courtney is always googling and taking books out from the library. Whenever she brings up Mitchell, she says, “It’s not your fault.” She probably got that online. Probably she looked up what to say when your kid’s dad is the wrong person. Courtney is so

He looks like he wants to hug her again, but she steps back. “That’s okay.” She doesn’t know exactly what she means by that. It’s okay, you don’t have to keep hugging me? Or it’s okay, I don’t mind you slept with someone else? It’s more like it’s okay, you didn’t break my heart. Try knives. Try torches. My dad is a professional.

Noah says, “Yeah!” Sam says nothing. Her dad has that light in his eyes he gets when he’s performing. Some people tell lies about the past. Her dad tells lies about the future. He is always telling a new story.

“It takes time for them to trust you,” Mitchell says. “They’ve had a lot of bad experiences, so it takes a lot of patience.” He is talking about the horses, but Sam knows what he means. She looks at him like Stop. Don’t put me in your metaphor.

“Do it,” Sam tells him, but he doesn’t listen. “What is wrong with you?” she yells, even though yelling doesn’t work. Finally, she tells Noah, “Remember I said I’d take you hiking?” But he is not the kind of person you can bribe. Or if you can bribe him, it’s with stuff, not with an activity. Apart from hockey, he doesn’t like activities until he is already doing them. And he doesn’t like going anywhere until he is already there. Sam sits at the table and Noah keeps

latif vibes

She should have called him, but she did not. She should have talked to him, invited him, forgiven him, but she did not. She treated him like he was dead—but she did not understand what dead meant. She knows now because it is too late. That’s what dead means. Too late for everything. Her dad is dead, and all his ideas are dead too. All the plans they had when she was little—now they’re over. He is gone, and so his view of her is gone as well. She was smart with him. She was a climber. She was famous in his eyes—but in real life, she will not be famous, any more than he was. He is nothing now, and she is nothing. No one will remember her.

The depressing girls talk about what they did on winter break. Sam does not say, I went to my dad’s memorial. Everyone would look at her. She does not say, He overdosed; police found him.

What did happen was mostly because she’d wanted him so much. If he took advantage of her, it was because she let him. Actually, she encouraged him. She was in love with him, but that was her fault. No, it wasn’t. She remembers what her mom said. He is not your friend. Yeah, that was true, but she was a bad kid. She lied about him to her mom. She lied about him to herself. She pretended she meant something to him.

And even then, she reminds herself, This isn’t serious. This isn’t dangerous. It’s like swimming because the water is warm. It’s not like you have to drown yourself in him. It’s weird, how they understand each other. He says, Let’s take it slow, and she says, Yeah. But even as they say that, they both know that nothing slow is going to happen. They are filthy wet, but they don’t want to leave.

“Grandma,” chides Justin. But Ann does not try to hide her surprise. She asks Sam, “Does he have special needs?” “Yes,” says Sam, and her cheeks sting, because she has never said that before. She and her mom never say, Yeah, Noah has problems or issues or needs—not even when he is melting down and people are staring. Sam wouldn’t say it now, except that Ann surprised her.

autism?