At eight twelve, Sam had freshened up to the best of her abilities. She had washed her arms and then her face, and changed her shirt. She would have to shower when she gets back home but for now, she will just have to be fine with how she smelled like food.
Within the incredibly small break room with lockers to one side, an L-shaped couch and matching coffee table to another, a mini-refrigerator and a sink, Sam slung her backpack over one shoulder and leaned against her closed compartment to check Haley's messages. She had been anticipating them and it had been a tradition that Haley would send her a little something while the latter would be left to her devices.
During the four hours Sam worked, she'd been itching to just whip up her phone and blatantly look but she couldn't do that to
