Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly or these characters.

Authors Note: Hey! I was trying to get some inspiration for Never Been This Far Away From Home today when I stumbled upon this. I wrote it a while ago and never finished it. Anyway, I decided I might as well get it written. Hope you like it!


It's prom night, and I'm drunk. Like no one saw that coming.

There are a lot of possible explanations why I, Sam Puckett, am currently sitting alone in the empty, dark cafeteria taking pulls from a bottle of what I think is whiskey but might be brandy. I might be here because Rodney turned out to be the worst prom date ever or because proms are lame or because it's what everyone expects girls like me to do on prom night. Yeah, I wish that was why I was here, but no. I'm here taking solace in the sauce because the last thing I ever needed to see was my two best friends dressed in prom gear, slow dancing, and making out, and I have to forget it, in whatever way I can.

It's a little weird, you know? You go through your whole life thinking certain things are true and will always be true: bacon will always be the best breakfast meat, I will never turn down a chicken leg, and Freddie will always have a weird unrequited love for Carly. Then, things change, and it's like you can't figure out what's real anymore. Like when I discovered ham was actually considered a breakfast meat or like last year when I got food poisoning and didn't go to Spencer and Carly's Memorial Day chicken fry. Like when Freddie asked Carly to go to senior prom with him, and she didn't didn't say no like she had when he asked her to ever other dance.

At first I thought it was pity. This being our senior year and all. Why shouldn't she give the little dorkwad a glimmer of hope? Then, she'd started to worry about matching flowers and fabric colors. Then, she made dinner reservations for two and explain that it wasn't like she meant anything, she just wanted it to be special. Yeah, special with Freddie. That's what Carly wants now. Whatever, it's not like Jenny Hana's is that great anyway.

I shouldn't be this upset at them. It's not their fault that Rodney didn't get me a corsage. It's not their fault that Rodney brought over takeout Chinese that we had to eat in my living room. It's not their fault that my mom wasn't there to take pictures of us or that Rodney tried to feel me up in the parking lot or that Rebecca Berkowitz has the same dress as me. Whatever, who wants stupid flowers or pictures or a romantic dinner anyway? Only losers actually care about prom. What a joke.

"Sam?" Great, here comes the rescue brigade.

I pull the bottle to my lips and swallow twice, letting the liquid burn a trail down my throat. I glance down at it. It's half empty. I smile smugly, guess I am a Puckett after all.

"Over here, Freddifer." I immediately regret calling to him.

"Sam, what are you doing in here?" He walks over to me, and he's doing that walk he does when he feels really cocky. It makes me a little ill to know why.

"Want some?" I shake the bottle at him.

He frowns at me and crosses his arms. I can tell he thinks about trying to take the bottle away for minute, but he knows he can't make me do anything, drunk or not.

"Come on. Don't be such a walking cliché."

I laugh once at him but not because it's funny and pull the bottle towards my mouth, taking another swig. "Just go back to your dance. I'm sure Carly's waiting." I motion towards the door with the bottle.

He rolls his eyes but doesn't leave. Instead, he sits down next to me.

"Where's Rodney?"

I laugh again and shake my head. "Who knows. Probably trying to figure out how to set a broken nose. I just took this," I lift the hand holding the bottle, "and bailed. No body tries to feel up Sam Puckett without her consent."

I see something flash in his eyes, and for a minute I wonder if he actually cares. He swallows hard, and I wait for him to say something. He doesn't, so I just take another drink. My skin is warm and I can tell that my cheeks are flushed.

"I knew you shouldn't have come with him." He finally manages.

"Why do you care?" My speech is starting to slur now, the alcohol coursing through my veins.

"Probably because you're my friend Sam, and I don't want to see you get hurt by assholes like him."

I giggle. "Ooh, big words from such a little boy." I am tempted to squeeze his cheek, but my limbs feel heavy. It's too much effort.

We don't say anything for a while then. I drink and he just sits there, silent.

"You know," I finally slur out, "He didn't hurt me. No one hurts me." I drink again.

I see him peek at me out of the corner of his eye. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"No one knows," I slump against his shoulder, my head suddenly too heavy for my neck. "'s a mystery." I close my eyes and breath in deeply, picking up the smell of his shampoo and something else. It's sweet and flowery. Obviously Carly bought a new shampoo for the night.

"Sam, come on." I can feel his warm around wrap around my shoulders, and I feel like I should say something, tell him to get his hands off me, that if he wants to molest anyone it should be Carly, not me, but my tongue feels too thick for my mouth, so I just stay quiet. I feel him shaking me, and it's only then that I realize I'm teetering somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness.

"Wha'?" I shrug out of his arm and pull my head away from his shoulder. My hand gropes blindly for the bottle, but I can't seem to find it. I figure Freddie's taken it away. A hot rage boils up through my veins. "Hey! Give it back." I lunge for the bottle, but he moves it away too quickly.

"I can't let you do this, Sam. You'll be expelled if they catch you." His voice is clear, confident. He's never stood up to me like this before. Something about it makes me even angrier.

"Fuck you." My voice rings across the empty cafeteria, bouncing off the walls and magnifying infinitely. I'm so mad. Mad that I had to watch him and Carly, mad that they cut me out of everything, mad that he's trying to take away the last thing I have, the thing that can make me numb too all of this. I stand up on shaky legs, the edges of my vision blurry. He stands too, trying to steady me without touching me.

"Calm down, Sam. I'm just trying to help you. Carly's really worried." That's when I snap. He's only here because Carly wants him to be. I pull back my fist and slam it into his face, the pain of my knuckles not even registering. He crashes into the table, the force of my punch knocking him off balance. My bottle has fallen from his fingers, and its amber contents are spilling across the table. I scoop it up, hoping to save the rest. I stumble away, trying to tune out Freddie's moans in the background, trying not to feel guilty for what I've done. I think I hear him call out my name one last time as I walk away, but I'm not sure.

Somehow I make it home thanks to the luck of stumbling upon an empty cab a few blocks from school. At first the cab driver looks dubious about driving me anywhere, but I flash him the money that I stole from Rodney and he agrees. My mom is passed out on the couch in front of the T.V. Theres an infomercial on the screen with some guy trying to convince me why I absolutely need his product. I just shuffle past her and into my room. I fall into my bed in my dress. It's only then that the tears finally come. They don't last long though for only minutes later I blackout.


I wake up the next day with my head pounding. The light blaring through my windows only makes it work. My phone makes a beep, and I see that I have three mixed text messages. The first one is from Rodney. I scroll past it, not wasting my time on his words. The next is from Carly:

Freddie told me you left the dance early. Too bad because it was lots of fun. Freddie ended up getting into a fight. Some guy punched him while he was in the bathroom. He looks kind of manly now. - Carly

Sam grimaces, knowing who the next text must be from. She clicks it open.

Carly doesn't know anything. She didn't even know you were gone. Let's keep it that way. -Freddie