Disclaimer: I can't believe this... I slave over a hot stove every day, and this is how you repay me? By accusing me of copyright infringement?! Well you can just forget about that chicken dinner I had planned for tonight! If you still want it so bad, make it yourself!
iGet The Second Letter
Sam had spent the rest of her Saturday wandering aimlessly through Seattle, eating miscellaneous food and just thinking things over. Sometimes she had found herself rubbing a hand against her left arm, the annoying, tingling sensation still having yet to disappear. What was up with that? The seemingly unanswerable question nipped at her mind, as well as a hundred others, and it was around the time that she had taken a seat at the park that she came to the brilliant conclusion that she was hopelessly confused... and it aggravated her to no end.
There were many things that Sam Puckett hated--celery, school, stripes, the color fuchsia (all bright and girly and burning to the eyes)--and being confused was definitely in the top five on that list. She hated not understanding or being unaware of what was going on, and the past few weeks had only amplified those things by a thousand. Carly was acting all sorts of strange, she was out of some loop, and now for some reason, even the mere thought of... Freddie--she clutched her abdomen--made her want to puke... and it wasn't just because she found him disgusting. No, the knots in her stomach were obviously being caused by something else, but... what?
And why does my stupid arm still tingle?!
She had planned to avoid the Shays' residence for the remainder of the weekend, but after Carly called her Sunday and practically begged her to come over because she really, really wanted to hang out, Sam gave in; even when she was royally irritated with her, it was hard to say "no" to that girl.
As Sam laced up her red and black converses, she took a moment to survey her room. After the sudden burst of anger that rushed through her the day before, she had run home and decided to use her bedroom to unleash her pent-up fury. Papers were scattered everywhere, her desk chair as well as other random items were tipped over, and there were even some feathers on the floor from her pillow that she had so mercilessly bit in to.
Shrugging, Sam left. This hadn't been the first time her bedroom had fallen victim to her infamous tantrums--the last time being when she was told Melanie was coming to visit for Christmas, which had resulted in torn wallpaper and a shoe flying through her window--and it probably wouldn't be the last. Besides, it wasn't really that much worse than how she normally liked to keep her room (despite her mother's demands, which usually fell on deaf ears). She knew she'd have to deal with it sooner or later though, but that wouldn't be for at least a couple days, so whatever.
The walk to Carly's seemed much faster than normal--and hoped--even when she actually waited for the crossing sign to turn to "walk," or when she literally stopped to smell the roses. I can't believe I just did that, she thought, backing up from some coffee shop's flowerbed and scratching her nose. Even though Carly was her best friend and she had agreed to do this, it didn't eliminate the fact that she was still mad at her secretiveness with... that... boy... and she wasn't all that excited to see her.
Unfortunately, the distractions barely helped as Bushwell Plaza soon came in to view, and in no time, Sam was standing outside Carly's loft. With a sharp intake of air and a mental pep talk to keep her anger in check, Sam creaked the door open and stepped in. She instantly heard a squeal of delight and rapid footsteps, and was suddenly enveloped between two skinny arms that were a lot stronger than they let off.
"Sam!" Carly yelled joyously, squeezing her tighter.
"Oops, sorry." Carly abruptly released her, a light blush forming on her cheeks. Sam gasped for air, placing a hand to her chest. When her lungs were no longer pleading, Carly wrapped her hand around Sam's and led her over to the couch. "I've missed you so much."
"Missed me? Carly, you saw me two days ago," Sam replied, arching an eyebrow.
"Yes, and it's been two days of me missing you," Carly chuckled, forcing Sam down onto the cough next to her, keeping their hands linked. Sam stared at her as she grinned from ear to ear. Carly may have been acting strange before, but this was seriously taking it to the next level. Sam's facial expression must have shown her discomfort, because the overtly chipper girl quickly added with a slight pout, "What? Is it so wrong for me to miss my best friend?"
"Well... no, but--"
"Good!" Carly interrupted, her incredulous grin returning. Sam felt there was something else behind that smile, but she couldn't quite place her finger on what. "Now come on." Carly leaped up, and roughly yanked Sam to her feet. Whoa! We just sat down, Sam thought as Carly dragged her over to the computer, babbling on, "I have to show you this really funny video on Splashface I found. So this guy is brushing his roommate's teeth, and then...."
The two girls basically spent the day watching ridiculous videos online, eating junk food, and coming up with new ideas for the next iCarly. Carly had calmed down as the day progressed, but there were still random moments when she would become incredibly cheerful and leery for no apparent reason, leaving Sam to ponder. Carly was predictable, so Sam had an inkling what her extreme mood swings had to do with, but a proper time to bring her theories to light was seemingly becoming impossible.
Sam was quite surprised with herself, having managed to bottle up her anger for the majority of the day. There were a couple times where she had accidentally let it show, however, though she was sure Carly hadn't noticed anything... that unusual. The first was when the local dork decided to stop by unexpectedly and borrow some super glue for his science project, his mother forbidding such things at their house because she feared he'd glue something to himself, or worse, himself to something. Sam resisted the desire to snicker.
Carly had skyrocketed into her questionable "I am so, so happy" demeanor at his appearance, and Sam had become extremely quiet, keeping her attention focused on her drink--that began to vibrate in her shaky grip--and acting like he didn't just barge in. Freddie--she almost asked for a bucket--returned the favor by not acknowledging her either, and Sam was split between being relieved and annoyed by this; she honestly didn't want to talk to him, but she was the one with the rights to be all aloof right now, not him. If anything, he should have been on his knees, kissing her feet and begging for her forgiveness for being a total nub yesterday, not ignoring her.
Sam fought through the pains in her stomach, her boiling blood and the vile taste in her mouth, and took a glimpse here and there. At one point, Freddie... raised his eyebrows at Carly, who gave the smallest head shake Sam had ever witnessed. A huge smile was still plastered on her face, but her eyes were filled with "I can't do this" fear. Freddie's... lips quirked, a sign Sam took as reassurance for Carly--the gesture making her want to knock the lamp next to her over--and suddenly, he was staring over at her.
Sam's heart nearly stopped, she had to remind herself to keep breathing, and for a second there, she really thought she was going vomit right on the sofa. His brown eyes were just so... so... something. Her left arm began to feel funny all over again, and she had the urge to rub it, but she didn't dare. Her insides were twisting in every direction, and she had to force herself to finally look away, half of herself upset with this decision, the other pleased.
She silently thanked pork when he departed right after, but was a bit shocked with herself when she hissed like an angry cat a second after the door shut behind him. Carly whirled around and shot her a bewildered yet amused look, and Sam immediately took a long swig from her glass as a cover-up.
What is he doing to me...?
The second incident occurred around dinner time. Sam and Carly were sitting on the couch, Spencer bustling around in the kitchen as he cooked and sang. The reality show they were currently watching was having a hard time keeping Sam's attention, and she found herself noting their situation was not all that different from two nights ago. Sick of the white elephant in the room, Sam took a plunge.
"Are you ever going to tell me what you were going to tell me Friday?"
Carly shifted, but her cheerful facade remained. "I already told you it was nothing," she chuckled.
"Nothing? Really?" Sam blinked. She had thought for sure that would have taken her off guard, but Carly just nodded.
Sam could practically feel her frustration bubbling to the surface. Carly was suppose to be her best friend, and here she was, listening to some dweeb and keeping her in the dark. What kind of friendship was that? She was just about to snap that she heard them yesterday and knew it wasn't "just nothing," but Spencer cut her off.
"Dinna 'ez served," he said in a really bad attempt at a French accent. Carly was on her feet and skipping over to the table in no time. Sam let out a mix between a growl and a sigh and got up a few seconds later, walking over to the table at a much slower pace than the brunette and slumping down in front of her meal with a scowl. She watched sullenly as Carly and Spencer dug in. After a few bites, they both sent her stunned looks over the fact that she hadn't even started eating yet. Sam glared down at her food to avoid their gazes.
Stupid Carlotta, keeping something from me. Stupid Ms. Bumbleworth and her stupidly ugly clothes. Stupid Gibby and his... stupidity! Stupid Fredweird, making me all... argh, I don't even know! This is just all so... stupid! I. Can't. Take. Any. More. Of. This--
"Sam, what are you doing?!"
Sam jerked at the Carly's shrill voice, and she turned to see her sending her a glare, a napkin in hand as she dabbed at her shirt that was now covered in marinara sauce spots. Sam then looked straight ahead at Spencer, who held his food near his open mouth, but made no attempts to eat it. She finally averted her eyes downward to her own plate, her once perfectly crafted spaghetti tacos now a heap of noodles, sauce and broken shells that were splattered all around. Her hand was wrapped around her usually ignored fork so tightly that her knuckles were turning white, and the pointed parts of it were jabbed right into the center of her mess.
"Oh, sorry, Carls. Just... making spaghetti taco salad!" Sam cried, forcing a wide grin on her face as she scooped up some of her disaster, and stuffed it in her mouth. "Mmm, mmm."
Carly eyed her curiously, now running a fresh napkin through the bits of food that had gotten into her hair. Out of curiosity, Sam took a snag down at her own appearance, and was unsurprised to find her yellow shirt and blond curls looked as if she had just got done brutally stabbing someone... with taco shells. With a shrug, she continued eating. Whatever.
After dinner, Sam found herself being pulled forcefully by the wrist all the way to Carly's room, and thrown down onto the pink, floral print comforter. Carly hovered over her, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed.
"What the heck, Carls--?"
"What was that?" Carly cut in, motioning wildly towards her bedroom door. She then gestured at her light blue shirt, emphasizing the stains. "Look what you did to one of my favorite shirts!"
Sam sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. Just wash it; it'll be fine."
"You've been acting really weird today, Sam," Carly said with a shake of her head, turning to rummage through her dresser for a fresh shirt.
"What?" Sam's jaw dropped. "What are you talking about?"
"I don't know... you've just seemed... mad?"
Sam fidgeted a little. "Yeah, well... you haven't been acting all that sane yourself," she retorted, attempting to turn the focus away from herself.
Carly stopped going through her clothes, her shoulders tensed, and although she kept her back facing in her direction, Sam knew she wore a worried expression. "Yes I have--"
"No you haven't! You've been prancing around here, acting like you just ate some 'loopy' pills."
"I do not prance." Carly clicked her tongue, and picked out a red shirt with black dots. She glanced over her shoulder at Sam, who had taken a moment out of their conversation to swipe her finger across her own dirty shirt and lick off the sauce she managed to obtain. Carly sighed, disgusted, reached into her dresser again, and flung an orange penny-tee at her friend with the words "Monkey Funky" on it. Sam simply nodded in thanks.
The two girls quickly changed, and Carly soon joined Sam on her bed. She cleared her throat. "So... are you going to tell me why you're mad?"
"I'm not mad," Sam lied with ease. "Are you going to tell me why you've been so 'fake happy' today?"
"I haven't been 'fake happy,'" Carly replied quickly. She moved her eyes down to her boots that she was swinging back and forth, and Sam inwardly compared her pose to a person guilty of a crime. The crime in question here? Lying. Badly.
"Oh, come on, Carls. Yeah, you're a perky person... but you and I both know something is up...."
There was a long, awkward pause after this, until Carly mumbled, "I'm just excited to be hanging out with you...."
Sam was about to reply with something mindless, when she digested Carly's words and tone fully, and it all hit her like a pound of bricks. It was so obvious, how hadn't she seen it before? Carly's odd happiness, Freddie--ugh--and her's weird little exchange; she had a feeling it was about the incident on Friday between them, but now she was certain that was only a minuscule part of it.
"You want to tell me, don't you...? What's going on between you and... F-Fredweird." A pain shot through her stomach at voicing the name aloud and she let out a small groan, but luckily, Carly didn't seem to notice.
Carly's head shot up, and her eyes widened. "There is nothing going on between me and Fre--"
"He told you, didn't he?" Sam straightened up as Carly lifted her legs, curled them up so her chin rested on her knees, and began to hug them. "You know I was in the studio yesterday and I heard you guys talking, don't you?"
Carly cringed... then slowly nodded.
"And you invited me over today to act like everything is 'normal' and have been forcing yourself to be cheerful so I don't ask questions... but you really just want to tell me, don't you? It's eating you up inside that you have to keep this from me, am I right?"
A hesitant pause, then another nod.
"Why don't you just tell me?" Sam groaned, knitting her eyebrows together.
Carly furiously shook her head. "N-no, I can't."
"Why not?" Sam whined.
"Because... it's complicated... and I promised I wouldn't say anything, and just... no." Carly placed her hands on top of her head, and curled herself up even more. When she spoke again, it came out as an almost muffle, and Sam had to crane her ear to hear, "You'd freak out."
"Why?" Sam chuckled, but Carly just shook her head once more, and Sam slumped her shoulders in defeat. "Alright, fine...." She wasn't sure what else to say, when suddenly, it was like she could practically see the light bulb turn on beside her head. "But what if I... guessed?" Carly's brown eyes peeked out from behind her hair, and Sam smirked. "I could ask some questions, and you could just shake your head 'yes' or 'no'... technically, that's not you saying anything."
Carly uncoiled herself, and contemplated this for a few seconds. "Hmm, that's... true.... I... suppose--"
"Awesome!" Sam yelled, bouncing her butt on the bed and causing Carly to shriek.
Sam thought over all she knew so far while Carly nervously picked at a loose string on her comforter. The blond decided to start with, "So you and Freddie have some sort of 'promise' going on, right?"
A silent 'yes' from Carly.
"And it has to do with him going on dates?"
Sam began to grow excited; she was finally getting somewhere.
"And you have to do something after a certain number of dates?"
Carly fidgeted. 'Y-yes.'
"And he's been on one?"
Sam's eyes widened. "Two?"
"When was the other one?!" Sam screamed right into her ear, causing Carly to fly off the bed. Carly scrambled to her feet.
"When?" Sam asked more quietly. Her eyes bore into the brunette's, and Carly seemed to register something in Sam's reaction, because she didn't try to comment on the fact that she wasn't suppose to be vocalizing anything. Either that, or she just didn't care anymore.
"Yesterday," she answered.
Sam's already widened eyes grew double in size. Two in one weekend?
"That skunk bag?!" Sam felt sick just imagining her, with her long red hair and bra strap always hanging off her shoulder. She shook her head, trying to get the mental image out of her head of Lesley and Nerdward sitting at some fancy restaurant, laughing and chatting, her bra strap dangling. "Why is he doing this, Carly?" Her voice came out as a sorrowful whisper, which shocked both of them. Sam, realizing what that could have been taken as, stammered out, "W-what do you have to do after the third date?"
Carly began to croak, "I-I... h-he... I--"
"Sour Love" by Cuttlefish started to play throughout the room, and Sam's temper flared as she retrieved her phone, flipped it open without looking to see who was calling, and growled into the mouthpiece, "What?"
"Samantha Joy Puckett!" her mother shouted from the other line, causing Sam to flinch and pull the phone away from her ear. "What in the world did you do to your room?! You get home right now and clean it up!"
"You're home? But I thought you were going to be in Vegas with Billy the Bull until Wednesday!"
"No, that was a bust. Turns out Billy the Bull was only dating me to make Scarlett the Snake jealous, and of course, it worked! Who wouldn't be jealous of me? Now you better start running to clean this mess up, young lady! I'm raising a daughter here, not a pig!"
"Argh!" Sam snapped her phone shut, and turned to a now curious Carly. "I have to go and clean my room."
"Yeah, I heard that part clearly, but... Billy the Bull?"
"My mom has been hanging out with this group of people lately who like to put types of animals after their names. She's Lisa the Leopard." Carly opened her mouth. "Don't ask." She closed it.
"Well... you better go and do that, and... I'll tell you everything later, alright?" Carly breathed, wringing her hands together. Sam raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "I mean it this time! I promise... just give me some time, and I'll tell you everything you want to know and then some, okay?"
Sam pointed at her. "Ankle swear?"
Carly giggled and rolled her eyes playfully. "Ankle swear."
After they completed the necessary steps, Sam rolled up her dirty shirt, said goodbye, and ventured down the stairs. She was just about to exit when something peculiar caught the corner of her eye, and she slowly looked over towards the couch to see Spencer kneeling in front of a lobster, painting it with white stuff and humming some tune.
"Uh, Spence... why do you have a lobster?"
"It's for a new sculpture idea."
"Okay... but didn't you say you were never gonna use life animals again after the snail incident?"
"Yeah, I know, but I just saw this guy... or gal...?" He picked it up, lifted it up over his head, scanned the bottom of it, then dropped it. "Lobster at the store, and I got the most brilliant idea and couldn't resist."
"What are you putting on it?"
"Glue!" Spencer answered giddily.
"Why?" Sam snickered.
Spencer reached behind him, and grabbed a pail filled with stones. "I'm going to glue these to it. It's going to be a 'Rock Lobster'!" He put the pail down, and went back to pasting and humming. Suddenly, he frowned, dropped his brush, and began to yank at the bands around the lobster's claws. "Can't have these on there though. It'll make it look unnatural."
"I'm out," Sam said, raising her hands and turning back towards the door. She exchanged goodbyes with Spencer--as well as wished him luck, though he took it that she meant in crafting his sculpture--walked out into the hallway, and was unsurprised to hear a scream of agony fill the air not that long after shutting the front door. With a chuckle, Sam began to head towards the stairs, but stopped dead in her tracks when she heard another door click open and a familiar voice say her name.
"What do you want?" she grumbled, turning around to face the geeky owner of the voice who called her. She made a face when she saw him holding up a wooden knight shield like the cheap ones you get at Jay Mart in the kids' section. "What's with the lame toy?"
"Oh, nothing. Just protecting myself if I happen to be assaulted by another muffin." He peered over the top of it, and Sam scoffed as she held up her sauce-covered shirt to show him there was nothing to worry about, no muffins. With a sigh of relief, he lowered the shield. "Cool."
"What do you want?" Sam repeated, folding her arms and tapping her foot impatiently. She gazed intensely at the wall, trying to actually keep her food down.
"I just wanted to apologize. I was kind of a jerk to you yesterday...."
Sam finally looked at him, and as expected, there was a lurch in her stomach. It wasn't as unpleasant though. It only made her feel a tad... dizzy. "Yeah, kind of," she snorted, but it wasn't as harsh as she had meant it to be. Freddie smiled sheepishly, and Sam could practically feel her anger dissolve into nothing. "But hey, just... just forget about it. It's no big deal."
Freddie was taken aback. "Really?"
"Yeah," Sam replied honestly, shrugging. It was hard to believe that only a few hours ago, she had expected him to give up all his dignity--the little amount he had left, that is--in order to win her forgiveness, but now here she was, giving it to him without either breaking a sweat. She didn't know why, but despite everything that had been going on... she didn't want to keep being mad at him.
They fell into an awkward silence, Sam subconsciously rubbing her left arm, Freddie subconsciously rubbing his left hand against his pants. It was finally Sam who decided to break their uncomfortable situation with, "Heard about your date with Lesley. Fun?" Why did I bring that up?!
"Eh, not really... she's kind of a... a--"
"Skunk bag?" Sam said helpfully.
"Yeah," Freddie laughed.
Sam was just about to ask why was he going on all these dates, but bit her tongue; Carly had already promised to tell her everything, and it would just be fruitless to bring it up to him. Besides, they had just put one argument behind them, and even though Sam loved their bickering the majoirty of the time, the moment they were in felt sort of... nice. No disagreeing, no name calling; just them talking civilly. It was... nice.
Sam blinked and stumbled back. Somewhere in here revere, Freddie had moved closer to her. His face was now only inches away, and Sam could feel his hot breath tickle her skin. His eyes--that Sam could now see had little specks of gold in them--held that same intense look they had on Thursday, but this time, there was far more determination present. A chill ran down Sam's spine as he took another step forward, and she took another one back.
"W-what's your deal, Benson?" she stuttered, trying to maintain her composure and not let her tough exterior crumble.
"Sam... why are you so... um...." And just like Thursday, he faultered. Sam was lost. What did he keep trying to ask her that was so important that he kept failing at the actual asking part? Why was she so what? She attempted to rake her brains and try to get some sort of hint as to what it was, but it was in vain; all she could think about was how close in proximity they were, and how her stomach was now doing cartwheels.
"Sour Love" hit their ears, and it seemed to wake them both up from some sort of trance. They both rapidly blinked, and stepped further back from each other in unison. Sam fished her phone out of her pocket and answered with a gruff, "Yeah?"
"Hurry up!" her mother's voice shouted.
"I'm on my way, mom!"
"You're on your way, what?"
Sam's grip tightened on the phone. "I'm on my way...," she glanced at Freddie, feeling embarrassment rising, and finished through gritted teeth, "Lisa the Leopard."
"Ah, good. That's what I thought you said. Now hurry up!"
Sam disconnected the call at that, and shoved her phone back into her pocket, utterly irritated. Freddie was watching her questionably. "I have to go clean my room."
He scratched the back of his neck. "Um... Lisa the Leopard?"
"Don't ask," Sam said far more dangerously than when she told the same thing to Carly. She pounded a fist against her open palm to help make her point clearer.
"Okay, I won't," he squeaked.
More awkward silence.
"I'll see ya tomorrow then," Sam mumbled.
"Yeah... see ya."
The pair hastily parted ways, Freddie dashing back into his house while Sam practically flew down the stairs and out of the Bushwell, Lewbert's panicky screaming about "no running in the lobby" following behind her. She was lightheaded from the whole ordeal as she started to walk down the sidewalk, and she decided to turn on some music from her phone in hopes to making the journey there easier. Everything seemed to melt away as she drowned in the enticing melody and lyrics about girls and their secret addictions.
Sam arrived home in no time to an enraged mother, new forming twists in her stomach the moment she shut her phone off, and wishes that she had a maid.
When Monday rolled around, the trio seemed to come to some mutual, unspoken agreement to remain natural around each other and their peers. There was still that underlying tension going on between one another, but there were better places to bring that up than at school, and plus, the hectic weekend sort of drained all of it out of them for the time being. So as usual, Carly was perky, Freddie was dorky, and Sam was freaking out.
"What did you just say that nerd contraption was for?!"
"Sam, calm down," Carly said soothingly, placing a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam pushed her off, lunged forward with outstretched arms, gripped a very frightened Freddie's collar, and tugged him towards her.
"Tell me!" she bellowed, her hair more tangled than normal and her eyes wild.
"I-it's for the AV c-club," Freddie stuttered, trying to pry himself loose. Sam let him go just as he yanked back extra hard, and he found himself falling down onto the tiles, the strange, wired contraption he was holding flying out of his hands and landing in the middle of the hall. And as luck would have it, one of those giant cleaning machines the janitors used decided to drive by at that exact moment, and sweep the thing away.
"Noooo!" Freddie yelled dramatically, stretching his hand out as he watched it fall apart between the bristles. He put his head down, and began to pound his fist against the floor. "No, no, no. The guys trusted me with that... what am I gonna do?"
Carly was in the middle, torn on who to comfort. Her best guy friend was currently on the ground crying about some wired thingy-mer-bob she didn't really care about, and her best girl friend now had her head shoved into her locker as she screamed bloody murder into it, kicking her foot against the locker beneath her's and leaving noticeable dents. With a shrug, Carly walked away. They could figure it out on their own. Besides, Spencer promised her Galini's after school, and she didn't want to be late for that.
How could I forget about those Anna replies? Sam thought bitterly as she managed to calm down enough to pull her head out, and slam her locker shut. She jumped a little when she saw Freddie standing right next to her, his hands balled up into fists at his sides and his breathing heavy against her cheek.
"That was... two-hundred dollars... worth of equipment that you... just broke."
"Hey, it's not my fault you're uncoordinated," Sam said venomously, shoving him aside and walking past him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meat club issue to go and deal with."
"Meat club?" she could hear him say coldly. "I know there's no meat club, Puckett!"
Even though her mind told her to keep going, Sam halted. She turned around, and narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes there is."
"No, there isn't. I asked Principal Franklin."
Sam stalked towards him slowly, threateningly. "Why, may I ask, did you ask him that, dork?"
"I wanted to know why it wasn't on the list of clubs."
"Then how come Franklin has never heard of it?"
"It's really private."
"Yeah right." Even though she was right next to him now and looked like she was about to kill him where he stood, Freddie didn't back down. Instead he crossed his arms defiantly and said smugly, "You're up to something."
Low, rumbling sounds began to emit from Sam's throat, and she used her elbow to thrust his body against the lockers behind him, wiping the smirk clean off his face. "If you get secrets, Benson... then so do I. Back off."
Leaving it at that, Sam stopped pinning him and he slid to the ground where he gasped, his ears and face bright red. With that, she twisted around and stomped away. When she reached the newspaper classroom, she inspected her surroundings just in case the dork was stupid and decided to follow her. Seeing that the coast was clear, she slipped inside and was greeted with a very unhappy Ms. Bumbleworth.
"You're late," the teacher scolded, tapping her watch with her index finger.
Ms. Bumbleworth sighed, "Oh, just forget it. Just let me see your replies." She held her hand out, but Sam didn't move a muscle and just stared at her blankly. "Um... Sam?"
"Well, you see.... Ms. Bumbleworth, uh... my cat, Frothy... he's pretty rabid and he... ate... my replies?" Sam said, her excuse coming out as more of a question than a statement.
Well that was pathetic.
Ms. Bumbleworth's arm fell limp. "You didn't do them, did you...?"
"Am I going to Summer school?" Sam muttered sadly.
There was a long pause before Ms. Bumbleworth finally sighed, "No, you're not going to Summer school... we just have a blank spot we need to fill up now.... I suppose we can... but I really don't... oh, but we have no other choice... ugh, Gibby!"
The shirtless boy waddled over, munching on a banana. "Sup?"
"Gibby... remember how I told you you couldn't do that one article you really wanted to do? Well... looks like you can now," Ms. Bumbleworth announced, sounding less than enthusiastic about it.
Gibby dropped the rest of his banana, the impact creating a splat noise, and his eyes lit up. "You mean the one about the full body spandex suits?" he cried, clasping his hands together.
Ms. Bumbleworth pinched the bridge of her nose. "...Yes," she groaned.
Gibby squealed with excitement, and ran off to go collect his material. It was moments like these that Sam really stopped to take note on how bizarre that boy really was. Full body spandex suits?
"That boy is different, isn't he?" Ms. Bumbleworth thought aloud.
"Yup," Sam agreed. She then patted Ms. Bumbleworth on the arm. "Thanks, teach."
"Yes, well, this is a one time thing, Sam. Don't let it happen again, alright? I might not be as lenient next time."
"Yeah, I got it. I've just had... a lot on my mind recently.... sort of forgot about them."
Ms. Bumbleworth waved her hand dismissively. "Ah, don't worry about it. We all have our days. This does mean you have to miss the party tomorrow though, since you didn't contribute to this issue."
"Bummer," Sam said sarcastically, though she was genuinely disappointed a tiny bit.
Ms. Bumbleworth chuckled. "I'll see you here on Wednesday, Sam."
"Yeah... see ya."
Tuesday was pretty uneventful. Well, minus Freddie showing up wearing a gigantic hot dog suit, but Sam wasn't as phased by it like everyone else; she just thought he finally embraced his inner weenie.
"W-why are you w-wearing that?!" Carly cried when he approached them that morning, before keeling over and submitting to a string of insane giggles.
"The AV--Carly, will you quit laughing?"
"Anyway, the AV guys were pretty upset about the blah blah blah--" well that's what it sounded like to Sam at least "--being destroyed, so it was either be kicked out of the club... or wear this for the rest of the week...."
"Look, there's even ketchup!" Carly pointed out, falling victim to another fit of hysterics at the sight.
"Well I think it suits you perfectly," Sam said sincerely, causing Freddie to roll his eyes.
The rest of the day basically consisted of Sam coming up with hot dog-related jokes, which didn't make it totally boring. And fortunately, Freddie was too busy being ridiculed for the next couple days to confront Sam again about what she really did after school.
On Wednesday Sam entered the news room, a rather dinky pile of letters awaiting her. She figured it was because her column hadn't shown up in the latest issue, but she didn't care; less letters meant less work, which was just fine with her.
As she started to dig through them, a particular letter caught her eye. She pushed all the others aside to reach for it, and she glanced at the bottom to see who it was from, excitement building up inside her. When the name TechWiz flashed back at her, Sam wasted no time in beginning to read it:
First of all, thank you, your advice was great; very insightful. It really helped me a lot, and I've taken it.. well, some of it.
I've gone on a two dates, but neither of them have really... felt right. One of them smelled weird, and the other was a total skunk bag! Yeah, I know I'm only doing this to date the one girl I wantt to, but... I'm starting to wonder why am i EVEN--ah, sorry, caps locks--doing this? What's the point of it? I guess you're right in saying you think C... er... dream girl is only doing this promise becase she thinks I don't really love her... but I do...! I mean... at least I think i do.... But then again, you might be right: she might not be my dream girl.... So why do I want to keep thinking she is so bad? Why do I feel so... scared--I'm not sure how els too describe it--if I stop thinking that?
As for the thorn in my side... I've tried to ask her twice now why is she so horrible to me, and both times I've failed miserably; I don't know if I'm more afraid of her beating me to a pulp... or her answr. And okay, she's not that horrible... she;s actually fairly cool... and exciting... and pretty.... Pretty, but violent. I guess she's kind of like a rose: nice to look at, but will hurt you if you touch her.... i guess I wouldn't wan her any other way though. Well... sometimes... ah, I don't know! Sometimes she gets into my bubble, and I jus want to touch her even though I know it's just asking for a death wishh... it's also weird how... exhilarated I am when we're close, even when it's just her physically abusing me... argh, what's wrong with me? Ugh! I wish I understodd these feelings when i'm near her....
Argh, if you could make some snese of any of this, that would be awesome! Because I still can't sem to.... I'm having this internal battle about these two girls, and neiher of themm even know it, though I'm more than willingly to keep it that way. But yeah, any more words of wisdom for me? I"d love to hear them....
Well, I have to go and relish myself now.... Ha ha--um... yeah, I guess that makes no sense (and was really unfunny, sorry...). My mom is yelling for me so she can preform her weekly inspection for fruit flies--don't ask, she's crazy--so I don't have time to explain. oh well. Thanks in advance. peeace (I like how you put that before your name).
What the...? Sam's eyebrows furrowed as she read some lines over again. This... really sounds a lot like... but, no... no, it can't... no... but.... She threw another fleeting glimpse to his name:
"OH MY HAM!"
"Sam! Quiet!" Ms. Bumbleworth commanded from the other end of the classroom, but Sam didn't hear her. All she could hear was an annoying buzzing in her ear asking her over and over, How did you miss something as obvious as that, Puckett?!
No, she couldn't jump to conclusions yet. She needed solid proof... she needed his laptop... she needed to get the heck out of there before she passed out.
Stuffing the letter into her bag, Sam bolted. She could hear Ms. Bumbleworth calling after her, but she simply ignored her and ran to the exit. Her heart sunk when she saw the extreme downpour that was currently blasting outside--stupid Seattle--but she wasn't going to let it stop her. With her jaw set, Sam zipped up her sweater as far as it would go, concealed her hair with her hood, and pushed the door open. A powerful gust of wind hit her, chilling her to the bone, but Sam fought through it and managed to squeeze out of the school.
She pressed herself against the glass door and breathed in the fresh air, trying to avoid getting wet for a little while longer as well as trying to calm her nerves. She couldn't believe how ignorant she had been. Even though she wasn't one-hundred percent positive on the true identity of TechWiz, it was all pretty blatant... and it all made absolute sense. The pieces added up too perfectly: the "promise," the sudden dating, everything. How had she been so blind?
And as she started heading towards the Bushwell--only deciding about five minutes later to just go home instead when she was knocked right off her feet by the wind; she'd go there later when the weather cleared up--she began to think over the possibility of Freddie really being TechWiz. A large part of her didn't want to be true; just envisioning Carly and Freddie kissing made her want to hurl, and the fact that he was going on these dates... and Carly would give him a chance after one more? What?
But then she thought about what else he's said.... She's not that horrible.... I really did experience all that when I kissed her.... Do I have... feelings for her...? She's kind of like a rose.... I wish I understood these feelings when I'm near her....
And deep, deep down... a part of her really, really wanted it to be true.
A/N: Ah, I'm sorry, okay? I know this chapter is long overdue, but I've been busy. Really busy. I also got a bad case of writer's block for this chapter, so... I started a new story! Yay! And hey, look! It worked! :D Of course this story is still my main focus, but I do have some followers for my new story already, so I do plan to get rolling on that soon. Anyway, thank you to everyone who continue to read this story! I appreciate it so, so, sooo much! :) Also, this chapter is dedicated to Mlle. Madeline aka Millie! She and I are now official iCarly-fanfiction BFFs. Exciting, huh...? Yeah, you care deeply. Ha, so yes, what did you think of this chapter? Tell me, puh-lease?
To your... er, my? flamer: Hahahaha, thank you so much! Wow, I don't think I have laughed that hard in a long time. I'm worse than Jersey Shore? That's, like... the ultimate insult, hahah! XD
Dun, dun, dun... QUESTION: What are you most afraid of? Me...? Alright, don't laugh, but... I'm afraid of dolls... porcelain dolls. Ugh, I hate them so much! The way their eyes follow you everywhere you go. -cringes- My grandma bought me one once--it was a sick joke, I know it--and I had to throw it in the closet because I didn't like how it watched me while I slept. I also have arachnophobia though; I will literally cry if I see a spider... blech! Alright, now tell me yours! I'm really interested to see your guys' answer for this one. :)