Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.
Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.
A/N: No, this is not a joke. Your eyes are not deceiving you. ColorsOfTheSky101 (that's me, in case you ignored the little author's name next to my story, which would be alright with me!) is posting a story. On this site. For the first time in, what, two years? Maybe more? Jeez, I don't know. Although I'm sure many of you have forgotten me by now, maybe some of my old fans/friends are still out there, and if you are, and you'd like an explanation as to why I have quite spontaneously decided to return, I will explain at the bottom of this chapter. If uninterested in my reasoning, feel free to ignore it! Anyway, on with the story…
iTrap
Chapter 1
"Move it, Dad!" Mary Benson demanded as she leaned forward from the back seat, her blue eyes directed in sharp annoyance at her father, who was at the wheel. She hated how slowly and carefully her Dad drove. Seriously, cars were given the ability of acceleration for a reason! "We're gonna be late! And I refuse – do you hear me? Refuse! – to get stuck with a bunk bed again this year!"
"Mary, chill," Fredward Benson replied, shaking his head, keeping his brown eyes on the winding road ahead. The route to this camp was a God-forsaken deathtrap. Of course, the brightly colored Camp Sparkly Lake! brochure never mentioned that. It would've been helpful to know, especially in the process of picking a camp for his thirteen year-old daughter two years ago that he would have to drive to and from at least twice a year, that was all he was saying… "We are not going to be late this time. I calculated departure time relative to arrival time to the nub, even accounting for traffic and weather conditions – "
"Has anyone ever told you you're a dork?" Mary cut him off rudely and, much to Freddie's dismay, familiarly.
"Yes," he answered honestly, remembering like he always seemed to. "Yes, many times, actually." Mostly the same person, he added to himself.
"Good, 'cause they're right."
"Mary…" Freddie started in a warning tone. She sighed.
"Sorry, jeez," she apologized grudgingly, as she rolled the windows on each side of her down and crossed her arms. "I was just saying!" From the corner of his eye, Freddie saw her wild, curly blonde hair blowing all over the place and wondered how it didn't bother her in the least. The disorder of it all, the distraction of it all. Once again (as much as he tried to prevent it, it happened at least three times a day) Freddie was struck by the resemblance. Mary is so much like her. Too much like her.
"What have I told you about unnecessary insults?" he went on, like clockwork.
"…That they're unnecessary?" Mary answered, clearly bored with the discussion they had had all too many times. It was like a dull, colorless, overplayed infomercial, one that, Mary felt, did not pertain to her in the least. She was just having some fun. Just because her father was allergic to fun didn't mean she had to be.
Luckily, Camp Sparkle Lake was noodles of fun.
"Exactly," Freddie nodded, knowing he probably hadn't gotten through to his rambunctious daughter but still hoping he had. The blue car finally (a three-hour drive, so the word 'finally' was most definitely called for) took a sharp left onto a worn-out dirt road, past the rainbow billboard with the camp's super girly name printed upon it.
"Yes! We're here!" Mary bounced in her seat like an energizer bunny on sugar rush, straining her neck to stare out the window, willing her Dad to speed up so they could arrive all the more quickly. "Boo-yah!" Freddie gave a small smile at his daughter's avid enthusiasm. She really did love it here, and he knew it. Mary didn't love very many things, but those things she did love, she loved with everything she had.
"You're not looking excited enough," Freddie joked sarcastically. "Maybe we should turn around – " Immediately a dainty but powerful hand whacked his shoulder, followed by outright protest at his clearly light-hearted humor. "Ow! Mary! I'm driving! What have I told you about -?"
"Violence is bad, yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, I know!" she brushed her father's comment away. "Look, there's the parking lot! Go, go, go!" With a sigh, he signaled right and sailed smoothly into the parking lot, and then, parking space. The moment the car was in park mode, Mary zipped out of the car. She already had two of her bags out of the trunk by the time Freddie made his way out of the car to help her.
"I can tell you're going to miss me," he said jokingly, though part of him was a little hurt that Mary was so eager to leave him for half the summer, even though he knew she didn't mean it that way.
"Hi, Mary!" a redheaded counselor approached us; one of many in the parking lot on duty to help campers carry their bags to their respective cabins. She was holding a clipboard.
"What up, Sandra!" Mary greeted her excitedly, with a high five. "Do I have you as a counselor again this year?"
"No, sadly I do not," Sandra said, trying to muster up a sad face, but Freddie knew better. Last summer he had received exactly twenty-seven calls of complaint concerning Mary's conduct, many from Sandra herself. Grape juice in the Whites laundry, spray-painted insults on cabin windows, inappropriate lunch disposal (you know, pants, knapsacks, people's faces), the list went on and on. He could tell Sandra was beyond relieved to not have to deal with Mary these next few weeks. But hey, the camp didn't kick her out. He called that progress. "You, my dear, are in…" she checked her clipboard. "Bunk 13B. With Alana. Lucky girl." She made a subtle but noticeable face. "Want some help with these bags?"
"Abso-bacon-lutely!" Mary agreed. "S'not like I'm gonna carry them myself, know what I mean?" Mary handed Sandra two of her three relatively heavy suitcases. "Feel free to make a second trip."
"Mary," Freddie scolded. "Nice try. Pick up a bag and help." Mary rolled her eyes and grudgingly agreed. Sandra, content with the fact that she did not, in fact, have to make a second trip, headed in the direction of 13B.
"So, I guess this is it," Mary eventually said, turning to her dad. He smiled down at her.
"Guess so, kiddo."
"Just so you know," she continued. "I will miss you a lot." Father and daughter hugged goodbye, in understanding of how important they were to each other. At least to Mary's knowledge, he was all she had left of a family.
"Love you, Mary," Freddie said as they pulled apart. "Have a kick-butt time."
Mary smiled, the biggest summer of her life ahead of her. "Love you more." She picked up her bag and followed Sandra. Freddie watched her go, deep in thought.
"Love you more." The most familiar response of all. But the past, well, it was the past.
Freddie shook his thoughts away, got into his car, and made his way out of the lot. During his exit, he accidentally cut off another parent in a red convertible trying to get in. The driver honked like a maniac until he was finally able to get passed through.
Some people can be so abrasive, he thought bitterly.
"Some people can be so freaking inconsiderate!" Samantha Puckett ranted to her daughter, Clara, aged thirteen, who sat patiently in the passenger's seat of their red convertible. "I mean, c'mon, move much?"
"Maybe he didn't know you were trying to get in?" Clara suggested, fingering her long, curly chocolate brown hair, her blue eyes, as always, intelligent and innocent behind thin glasses. She had been deeply pondering her upcoming first sleep-away camp experience, the pros and cons. It wasn't making the pit in her stomach any smaller though. Sam sighed in defeat, her daughter always the voice of reason.
"Fine," she admitted, as she quickly pulled into a vacant parking spot. Her park was crooked, possibly creeping into the spot next to her, but she didn't seem to notice or care. "But still. He could've looked." Sam put the car into park, and she and her daughter hopped out. "Alrighty, kid, let's unload this baby." Together they hoisted Clara's three suitcases out of the trunk and onto the ground. Sam wiped her brow, flipped her wild golden hair, and smiled at Clara, thrown for a moment, as often happened, how bright her persona was. She always joked she could smell her exceptional intellect from a mile away. Of course she knew where it came from, but man was it something to see. "So, are you psyched or what?" What, Clara thought.
"Being totally honest here," Clara replied, holding her stomach. "I think I'm gonna hurl."
Sam frowned. "Aw, and why is that?"
"What if the other girls don't like me?" she voiced her concern shakily. Mature for her age, Clara consistently had a difficult time relating to kids her own age. She didn't get invited to many parties, nor had she ever been away from home for more than two days, and that was with Science Olympiad, her people. "What if they tease me? What if -?"
"Good morning, ladies!" a black-haired woman approached the Puckett car, smiling broadly, holding a clipboard. She reminded Sam of one of those toothpaste commercials. She inwardly cringed. "I'm Alana. Name, please?"
"This is Clara Puckett," Sam announced proudly. "She's a new 'Sparkler'."
"Excellent!" Alana smiled and scanned her clipboard. "You're going to live in cabin 13A, with Sandra. I'll help you with your bags!"
"Thanks so much," Clara said politely as Alana picked up two of her three suitcases and headed towards the cabins in the distance. Once she was out of earshot, Sam turned to Clara and put her hands on her shoulders gently.
"Listen up, Clara," she began, "You're a Puckett! No one messes with a Puckett. Especially one as fantastic as you." She grinned at her pride and joy. "Now, Aunt Carly highly recommended this camp from when Emily went a few years ago. It's an awesome place, and you're going to have an awesome time!" Sam did not know just how true this statement would be.
"Do you swear?" Clara asked, testing her mom. "On ham?"
"I swear on ham," Sam agreed, raising her hand up. "A thousand times over."
Clara beamed. "Then I believe you."
"That's my girl!" Sam said happily, pulling Clara into a tight hug. Once she released her, she went on to say, "I love you. Be good. Listen to your counselor. Only pull pranks that don't physically impair people."
"Got it, Mom. Love you more." Sam ruffled Clara's hair, and then watched as she picked up her last suitcase and ran after Alana.
"Love you more"... No. She refused to go there. Not now.
When Clara was out of sight, Sam turned to her car and examined her parking job. "Mama needs to work on her aim."
A/N: So there it is, chapter one. I hope you guys liked it. :) Quite frankly I am a little nervous. Strike that, I'm REALLY nervous. I haven't posted something in a long, long time. Speaking of which, if you are curious, here is my explanation:
I had a huge loss in my family a few years ago… I lost my mom. As a result, I sort of lost myself. I wasn't empty or anything, at least not later on. I was still me, but a different me. I guess, more guarded, maybe more appreciate, I don't really know. But anyway, I couldn't finish any writing I had started before my mom's death. I just couldn't find my way back to the place where I was while writing it. So I stopped writing altogether for a while, but started up again soon enough, because writing is my passion, and I can't let go of my passion. I recently watched iOMG (greatest iCarly EVER, just saying), and I remembered how much I loved writing fanfiction because it was the closest I ever had to being published, to have my words shown to the public. It was the greatest feeling. And I thought about it and thought about it (seriously, I have been thinking about it for a ridiculously long period of time) and eventually came to the conclusion that I don't have to be in the same place or even feel like the same exact person to keep posting on here. Maybe that's the case with the unfinished stories, I don't really know, but I can post new pieces on this site as a different person, a different writer. Maybe even a better one. So here I am, hoping to be accepted once again into the FanFiction community.
Anyway, mad thanks for reading, even if you decide not to review. I appreciate it so much. :)
- Colors
