Disclaimer: Own iCarly? Why ye--no. :(
"Ah! Sam, let me go!"
"Not until you apologize for saying I stole your cupcake!"
"But you did steal my cupcake! I saw you! You even still have frosting on your--Ah!"
Sam flipped the quivering Gibson around so he was now laying flat on his back on the floor. The shirtless boy stared up at the towering blond with fearful eyes as she began to advance on him again, her face red and her breathing raspy. She had just begun to lift her foot and hover it over his exposed stomach when she suddenly began to move backwards, yelping about her hair.
"Sam," Carly hissed when she had pulled her aggressive friend a safe distance away from the fallen Gibby. "How many times have I told you: we do not try to use Gibby's stomach like a trampoline no matter how curious we are to see if we'll bounce."
"Well he had the nerve to say I stole his cupcake," Sam huffed, cradling her now sore curls.
"Well, did you?"
"No." Carly raised her eyebrows and her mouth spread into a small, knowing smile. Sam slowly looked down at the floor, back up at the brunette, then back down at the floor again. She quickly swiped her tongue against the corner of her mouth where she knew a bit of pink frosting was still visible. "Alright fine, I took it. I just couldn't help it, okay? I was so hungry, and it just looked so good."
"But you just ate lunch... two times," Carly replied, baffled at her friend's appetite.
"Yeah, and that was forty-five minutes ago," Sam said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around her stomach, and began to let out small groans. "Oh, and now I'm hungry again. Ooh--"
"I swear you were fused with a black hole at birth," Carly laughed as Sam continued to make pained noises.
"Hola, chicas," Freddie greeted, suddenly appearing beside the two girls. He gave Sam--who was now keeled over awkwardly as she gripped her sides--a weird look, then quickly shook his head. "Anyway.... Hey, Sam, did you finish your--"
"Not now. Need food," the shorter girl grumbled, her blue eyes darting around the surrounding hall where many students stood in small circles, chatting and giggling together.
"I was just going to ask if--"
"Your girly voice isn't helping me get any food, so put a sock in it, dork ."
"You know what, Sam? I don't have to stand here and be treated like--"
"Don't care," Sam cut in absentmindedly, her vision coming in line with a bag of chips a tall, redheaded boy was eating just a few feet away. Judging by where the bag bent, Sam concluded there was about one-forth of chips left inside. She inwardly shrugged as she began to inch towards him, figuring that was better than nothing.
"Give me the chips, nub!"
Two screams--one scared, one almost predator-like--and another hair tugging session later, and Sam stalked to sixth period with nothing but a still growling stomach, empty hands, and a gloom mood to go along with them.
Sam entered the classroom with Freddie at her heels, and took her usual seat in the far back corner. She immediately put her head down on the desk's cool surface, and sighed into the wood. A few seconds later, the sound of crinkling plastic made her ears perk, and she peered through her bangs to see a bag of Cheetos swinging right above her.
"Here," Freddie said, dropping the bag by her head. "I was saving them for later, but you can have them."
Sam didn't even thank him as she abruptly attacked the unopened bag. She let out a content sigh as the first cheesy, crunchy morsel found refugee in her mouth.
"So, did you do--"
"Mmph!" Sam furrowed her eyebrows, giving Freddie a look that clearly said she didn't want to make small talk with him at the moment, and just wanted to focus all her energy on the Cheetos at hand. Freddie sighed in defeat and turned his back to her just as the warning bell rang.
Sam finished the last crumb right when the second bell went off to begin class. She quickly crumpled up the bag and shoved it into Freddie's open backpack, too lazy to go and throw it away in the real garbage. Well that, but she also didn't want to have a run-in with Ms. Bumbleworth, who had just waltzed into the classroom wearing a dress that looked like someone had vomited orange gunk all over it.
"Alright, class," she began in her annoying, nasally voice, "please pass up your assignments that were due today."
Sam wondered why someone would actually buy a dress so ugly and seriously consider wearing it. Sure, she's seen some pretty ugly dresses in her life, but that one honestly took--wait, what?
"Huh?" Sam said, looking wildly around as everyone began to rummage through their folders. She turned and craned her head over Freddie's shoulder to see him pulling out what appeared to be a large packet. She leaned closer towards him, and whispered harshly in his ear, "What assignment?"
"What?" Freddie replied, confused. He gave her a sideways glance. "Don't tell me you forgot about our final for this semester. We've been working on it for four weeks straight."
"What?" Sam barked. "Why didn't you tell me that was due today? I could have skipped!"
"I've been trying to, but you've been too busy trying to take care of your always unsatisfied stomach to listen," Freddie retorted, clearly exasperated. Sam groaned and fell back against her seat with a thump, her face dropping. Freddie maneuvered himself so he could see her more clearly, and arched an eyebrow. "Wait... you didn't do it?"
"Of course I didn't do it, Freddweeb," Sam snapped. "I wouldn't be sitting here getting all freaked if I had done it, now would I?"
"Well I just thought the reason you slept during work time was because you were doing it at home."
Sam rolled her eyes. "Right, because I'm the type of person to save all my school crap for when I get home. Yup, Fredward, that's me to a tee." Freddie simply shrugged, and Sam let out a growl through her teeth and ran a nervous hand through her hair. "Alright, I just have to...." She snapped her fingers. "I got it."
Suddenly, Sam jumped to her feet and clutched at her chest dramatically. The sound of her desk scraping against the floor caused the majority of the classes heads to turn. Sam caught a brief glimpse of Freddie's expression before continuing her plan, his jaw unhinged and his eyes wide with surprise.
"Ooh, my chest! Ow! It's like my heart is aching and throbbing in dull pain! Ah! A-and my left... right... arm; s-shooting pains--"
"Sit down, Sam," Ms. Bumbleworth sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'll be sure to be seeing you after class to discuss your absence of a paper, don't worry."
Sam scowled and sat down to the sound of quiet snickers. Freddie gave her a look of pity, but couldn't stop himself from snorting. Sam grumbled an obscenity at him--that was met with a light gasp--then placed her head once again on her desk, deciding then that, as usual, she should just sleep for the rest of the class period.
With a quiet yawn, Sam closed her eyes and allowed her body to relax and immediately fall into darkness.
It was all the same as usual. The flashing multicolored lights. The marble floors. The soft, romantic music playing in the background. Sam was even still decked out in the same attire as she always was: a purple, salsa-type dress with black tights and purple heels to match. In other words, something she normally wouldn't be caught dead in.
But tonight, it didn't matter. Tonight was different. Tonight she was finally going to get the courage to say what she had been longing to say for two solid years. She was going to take in a large breath, close her eyes, and boldly admit loud and clear, "I lo-"
A giggle played against her ear, and Sam peered through her lashes to see what appeared to be two people slow-dancing in the distance. She couldn't quite make out who they were exactly, but they were definitely a boy and a girl, and they both appeared to be wearing blue. She tried to call out to them, but all she managed to do was feebly wheeze.
Quickly, they began to circle closer and closer to her. They started to go faster and faster towards her like they always did, until she could finally make out who they were. Two brunettes with brown eyes, holding each other for dear life, laughing and staring into each others' eyes lovingly. For some reason the sight made Sam's heart plummet, and her eyes began to sting when she recognized fully who they were (again).
It was Carly and Fre--
Sam awoke with a start when the bell went off to signal class was over, and silently noted the cold sweat rolling down her forehead. She scanned the room to find that most of the students were already gone, and only a few slowpokes remained as they attempted to organize their stuff together. She caught sight of Freddie standing in the doorway, giving her yet another weird look, but, just like before, he simply shook his head and followed everyone else out of the classroom.
Why do I keep having that dream? Sam wondered, scratching her head and staring blankly at where Freddie just was. That had been the third time in the past month that dream had plagued her mind, and it was doing nothing but leaving the Puckette girl lost.
"Ah, Sam," Ms. Bumbleworth said when the door closed behind the last students, her cringe-inducing voice echoing off the walls. Sam jerked at her name being addressed. "How nice of you to join us awake people. Please, come here."
Sam slowly got up, and reluctantly ventured to the front where Ms. Bumbleworth sat at her desk. The lean, grey haired woman peered at Sam through her wired-rimmed glasses before looking down and folding her hands together on her desk.
"Now, Sam, tell me... what is it about English you find so boring?"
"I dunno," Sam mumbled under her breath, shrugging one shoulder. She began to fiddle with the stapler on Ms. Bumbleworth's desk, the recent dream still leaving her in a slight daze. "I don't like to read."
"Yes, that became quite apparent to me when you used 'Hamlet' as spitballs," Ms. Bumbleworth grumbled, not having found the whole ordeal as humorous as Sam did at the time.
"I paid for it, didn't I?" Sam suddenly snapped. "Look, can you get to the point of this, lady? I have a Geometry class to go not pay attention in."
Ms. Bumbleworth sighed and rubbed eyebrow, "Sam, you do know that that paper was worth forty percent of your grade, correct?"
Sam shrugged her other shoulder. "Yeah, that might have crossed my mind."
"And you do know that by not turning it in, you fail this semester of English, a credit you most certainly need next year to graduate."
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"Well then you most also know you will most likely have to spend your vacation in Summer school in order to make up that credit." Sam opened her mouth to repeat her last statement once more, but Ms. Bumbleworth thoughtfully tapped her chin and continued, "I hear Ms. Briggs is the coordinator this year."
Sam dropped the stapler she was holding onto the dusty floor, the impact causing unused staples to scatter around at her feet. Her eyes grew wide to the size of dinner plates. "W-what? Y-you've got to be kidding me."
"Wish I was," Ms. Bumbleworth replied, shaking her head sadly.
"I-I'll... turn it in tomorrow! I swear."
Ms. Bumbleworth shook her head once more. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. The school board wants final grades in by three o' clock today. There is no possible way for you to turn it in any later than that."
Sam's mouth began to open and close like some fish out of water, making strange noises every now and then. Suddenly, after a few prolonged seconds, she fell to her knees and placed her hands together like she was praying, her exposed skin lightly scrapping against the discarded staples. Ms. Bumbleworth pushed her swirly chair back slightly, startled by the younger girl's actions.
"Please, please don't make me deal with Ms. Briggs during the summer. Please! I'll do anything. Anything!" she cried. She knew it was pathetic, but at the moment, she really didn't care. Sam had plans for the summer--mainly just sitting on Carly's couch, watching television and eating a bunch of ham, but plans nonetheless--and none of those included spending time with that she-demon in disguise.
"Is there anyway I can fix this besides," she gulped audibly, "Summer school?"
Ms. Bumbleworth looked sympathetic as she stared down at the pleading girl, but a few torturous pauses later, and her eyes practically began to light up. "Actually, yes, you can," she answered, a small smile tugging at the corners of her thin lips. "I am safe to assume that you are well aware that Wendy Carpenter had a bit of an accident earlier this week, and will be out for the remainder of the year, yes?"
Sam stood back up and nodded, recalling that a few days ago she had heard Carly say something had happened to Wendy when she had fallen in Chemistry class and sat down right on some spilled chemical. She remembered laughing hysterically, but now learning Wendy had been injured to the point where she couldn't even finish the rest of the school year, she felt a little guilty for doing so.
"I am sure you are also well aware of the Ridgeway Press and I am the person who runs it."
Once again, Sam nodded. The Ridgeway Press was a mediocre, pointless school newspaper that Ms. Bumbleworth had a handful of ignorant students work religiously on to get out every Tuesday, and one could usually find more copies in the trash than in peoples' hands. Sam herself only bothered to grab a couple copies every now and then because her mom's cats enjoyed using them as toilets.
"What you may not know, however, is that Wendy is 'Angie,' the newspaper's advice columnist," Ms. Bumbleworth said. Sam raised her eyebrows at this new piece of information; she had no idea Wendy had been one of those saps on the newspaper committee. "And considering the fact that Wendy is out for the rest of the year, that means I am out of an 'Angie' as well.
"So, I propose this: you fill in for her for the remainder of the year and become the new advice columnist... and I will pass you both semesters with solid C's. No other work needed."
If Sam had water in her mouth at the time, that would have been a perfect "spit take" moment.
"W-what? You're k-kidding. You gotta be. I mean... you know who you're talking to, right? I can't give advice to people!"
"I see a lot of potential in you, Sam, even if you don't see it yourself," Ms. Bumbleworth explained. "I see... someone with an opinion, and they're not afraid to say it. I've seen the way you speak to the other students; you're brutal, but honest. Fearless, honesty--it's the type of qualities a columnist must have. You may not be perfect, but you can relate to troubled students better that way, and I think you'll be excellent in giving your peers some quality, realistic advice."
Sam shook her head, contemplating in a silence that was only interrupted once when the bell for seventh period went off. A few more seconds after that, Sam looked up at Ms. Bumbleworth with a new spark of determination in her eyes.
"Make it a C+, and you got yourself a deal."
Ms. Bumbleworth gave a short laugh. "I like your spunk, Sam. I'll give you a C. You can take it or leave it, but I'd advice you to take it; not many teachers would be as willing to do something like this as I am...."
"Errgh... whatever, I guess I'll do it," Sam grumbled, slumping her shoulders. It was better than a Ms. Briggs-filled summer, that was for sure.... Actually, eating clams smothered in horseradish sauce would even be better than that.
Ms. Bumbleworth stood up and clapped her hands together, a broad grin spreading across her worn features. "Excellent! Now there are a few rules to being the advice columnist."
"Rules?" Sam mimicked, frowning.
"Yes, rules. Rule number one: confidentiality. This means you can neither a) tell anyone you are 'Anna,' nor-"
"'Anna'? I thought it was 'Ask Angie'?"
"Well, I think it's going to be a little obvious to the readers that there is a different person answering them, so your 'name' will be 'Anna,' which means it will be 'Ask Anna' from now on.
"So anyway, you must never tell anyone you are 'Anna,' nor can you b) give away the real name of the person writing to you if you happen to figure out who they are from their alias or other factors. Remember, despite what is written in the paper, no one must know anything more about you or the people writing to you. You are not even allowed to tell your best friend in the whole world; if I find out you have, it's an automatic fail. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, yeah." Sam waved her hand, dismissing it as no big deal. She could keep secrets. As long as there was no laughing gas involved, then it was no problem.
"Rule number two: punctuality. I want you here, on time, every day right after school. Monday through Thursday we work until five, and on Fridays we leave at four. Is that understandable?"
Oh, great, Sam inwardly groaned. I'm going to have to come up with some lame excuse as to why I'm staying after school all the time, and somehow get to Carly's before six everyday for iCarly rehearsals. Wonderful.
"And rule number three: respect. You will treat me, the other students you're working with, and the people you are writing to with the utmost respect. I will be reading over your work to make sure there isn't anything less than politeness written, okay?"
Sam wanted to gag, but stopped herself before fully completing the gesture. Instead she managed to only get out what sounded like a strangled whimper, and she rapidly nodded her head to hide it as well as to show she heard all the rules loud and clear, and understood them.
"Excellent!" Ms. Bumbleworth exclaimed again. "Now I'll just write you a pass for seventh period, and you can be on your way."
The moment Sam stepped out of the classroom, she began to wonder if what just happened... really just happened. As if some cruel, unknown force decided to answer her, Ms. Bumbleworth strolled out right after her, and gave Sam yet another thin-lipped smile. "I'll be seeing you next week on Monday, Anna," she chuckled, before turning down the nearest hall and out of sight.
"I can't believe this. One minute you're throwing spitballs at nerds, the next you are a nerd," Sam sighed to herself. "Well, look on the bright side, Sam ol' girl: you do this, and that means no Ms. Briggs this summer. And Ms. Bumbleworth did say no more English work either. Yeah... I guess this whole 'Anna' thing isn't all that bad..."
Sam looked down at the pass she was holding before deciding to crumple it up, and toss it over her shoulder. Geometry had already been going on for five minutes, missing the last forty wouldn't change anything. Besides, it was the last day for that semester anyway, and she already knew she passed that class with an impressive D+.
The blond first went to her locker to grab her hoodie, and then made her way to the nearest set of doors. The weather outside was rather cloudy and it looked like it was about to rain any second, but at least her house was close. Zipping up her dark red, plaid hoodie as far as it would go, Sam pushed the glass door open and made it out into the cool air before the alarm sounded for her to close the door.
A/N: Hey, hey, hey! Who told you I was dead? Well, I'm not! And I know that it may come as a shock, but no, your eyes are not playing tricks on you: I am actually writing a story for iCarly. (18 year old moi, you say? Yes, it's true.) It's just... I've been a fan of iCarly--mainly Seddie--for a while now, and only recently decided to express my love for it. So here's a new Seddie story/crazy Seddie-obsessed author to add to the iCarly fandom (because lord knows it doesn't have enough of those, lol). I tried to keep everyone in-character as much as I possibly could (sorry if I epic failed it), and hopefully it's not boring, even for a first chapter. So yeah, I have a basic idea where I want to take this story, and am really excited to write it (hopefully I actually finish a story for once though, lol). So yeah, any feedback would be great! Even flames. I'm not a huge fan of cold hot dogs, you know. ;)