Sammy knew she wouldn't be getting anything special, her dad was a notorious cheap ass. Plus, they got in a fight every time the weekly grade email was sent. She didn't have bad graded, far from it. All A's and B's in AP classes nonetheless, but a C on an assignment seemed to make him bust a vein.

"Ms. Witwicky? Would you like to give your report?" Her teacher called. Sammy looked up from the notes she was taking. Jesus but history was easy. Her poster board had only taken her twenty minutes to make. She set it up, then promptly turned to face the dumb illiterate hoards before her.

"My Grandfather, Archibald Witwicky, has one of the strangest stories of my family, which is why I picked him. He set sail into the Arctic Circle, but his ship became trapped in the ice. While he was there he apparently found some ice man," at this she held up a laminated newspaper with a bolded headline, "and wound up going crazy in a mental ward, babbling about the ice man and painting these weird images," again, flash to a newspaper, " and that is my family history report. Any questions?"

"Yeah, do you always have to be an overachieving bitch?" One specific jock yelled out for the back. His comment was met with general laugher, and a fist bump from another jock. Sammy couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"And here I thought you might have learned some higher intellectual epithets. I find your remarks to be of the most low brow and neanderthal-esque humor." Sammy smiled at the end of this, and sent him her personal death glare. She'd rehearsed that for a awhile, it always helped to have a few remarks prepared when Trent DeMarco was concerned.

"Break it up you two, Ms. Witwicky, an A as usual. Mr. DeMarco detention."

Sammy was out the door, bag in hand, before Trent even realized what happened. She didn't have time to screw around, putting juice heads in their place. She had a car to get.