Samantha Smart by Maxwell Puggle Read Free Book Online Page A

Station to their left. There were huge plastic sidewalks floating all around the perimeter of Madison Square Garden, and homeless people were, sadly, evident in numbers huddled up there under wood-free newspapers and old blankets.
At least,
she thought to herself,
New York’s become quite a bit warmer.
It was the only thought she’d had since the world got all strange that made this timeline seem better–for some–than the one she and The Professor were trying hard to restore.
    The taxi-boat pulled up on the corner of Twenty-sixth Street and let her out onto a plastic sidewalk. Samantha paid the driver and thanked him, then walked to a store on the corner. It was still only half past two by her watch and she was hungry, not having eaten that day. She purchased a huge turkey sandwich at the deli which she figured she’d eat half of and save half for The Professor. She also bought a pint of orange juice and a bag of dog food for Polly, which she stuffed neatly into her backpack.
    Walking back outside, Samantha found a little bench and sat down to eat her half-sandwich and drink some orange juice. She found it quite strange that the juice carton read “Georgia Orange Juice” instead of “Florida Orange Juice,” but then remembered the interactive map at the museum which had showed large portions of Florida to now be underwater.
Georgia,
she mused as she licked mayonnaise from her lips,
must be the new place to grow oranges.
She hoped that this hadn’t affected the traditional Georgia peach crop too heavily, as she had always been a big fan of peaches.
    Just as Samantha was packing up the half-sandwich she was saving for The Professor, a young man walked around the corner and asked if he could share the bench with her. She almost choked on her last bite of turkey when she looked up at him–it was Jordan Anderson from Heatwavvve,
her favorite boy-band in the whole world.
    “S-Sure! I mean, absolutely–by all means!” she fumbled with her words, totally awestruck. “Would you, um, like some... sandwich? Or some orange juice?” she offered. She knew she was totally blushing. This was unbelievable–entirely at random, Jordan Anderson had come and sat down next to her on a bench. She wished she had a picture of the moment to show to her friend Brianna–Samantha knew she would totally flip out.
    “Thanks, but I don’t eat meat,” Jordan replied, smiling his million-dollar smile. “I feel like it slows me down, and I have a very active life.”
    I know,
Samantha thought. She struggled to think of something to say that would keep the conversation going.
    “So–aren’t you in that group Heatwavvve?
I mean, I’m sorry but you–you look almost exactly like–”
    “Jordan Anderson?” Jordan interrupted. “Yeah, that’s me. Do you know the band?”
    “I–I actually have every one of your songs. I–” Samantha broke into a nervous giggle, “I’m actually kind of amazed to be meeting you. I have... a huge poster of you... on my wall, or, I, um, used to.”
    “Used to?” Jordan sounded slightly surprised. “Have you outgrown Heatwavvve
already?”
    “No... no! I still love Heatwavvve.
I just–well, I kind of had to... move recently, and I don’t really have any of my stuff.”
    “Oh, well–that’s a shame. Hey, tell you what,” the gorgeous dreamboat said, flashing that smile and patting her on the back, “my manager’s office is two blocks from here. If you want you can walk over there with me and I’ll give you a brand new poster, signed by the whole group.”
    “Wow, that’d be awesome,” said Samantha, still in dreamland.
    “Come on, then,” Jordan began, getting up and lightly taking her arm to lead her. She let him pull her to her feet and began floating along like a scarf tied to the singer’s arm, his touch sending waves of pleasure-electricity through her body. They made it about a block before she even thought to look at her watch, though when she did it alarmed her.
    “Oh,