This is Fredward Benson, eleven years old. He is short, pale, with dark hair, slightly crooked teeth, and a round face. He is wearing a green polo shirt and khaki pants that his mother ironed for him the night before, and laid at square angles on his dresser in the evening. He has just awoken; it is almost time to go to school. He is rubbing his face. Fredward Benson prefers to go by the name Freddie; his mother has nearly always called him this ever since he was five years old.
This is Freddie Benson's room. There is a large oak desk with a few computers, cameras, and audio visual components neatly arranged in rows. In front of the computers are three carefully stacked piles of homework, books, and binders. There is a single, twin bed with solid blue sheets; the bed is tightly tucked and made. On the white bedside table rests a lamp made from a wooden boat, a half-empty glass of water on top of a coaster, an inhaler, and a retainer case. There is a white dresser, with a full length mirror to the right side.
"Freddie, you have to come eat breakfast before the oatmeal hardens! We'll look you over for lice tonight, so don't associate with any unclean girls and boys today!" That was Freddie's mother shouting from down the hall through his closed, but unlockable, door.
This is Freddie looking into his mirror. He sighs. His hair is flat, his outfit is plain. There is nothing anybody could make fun of him for. Freddie toes into his simple canvas shoes, excellent for sidestepping bullies trying to trip him. He regards himself with minimal expression on his face. Freddie smooths down the clean front of his shirt with a thin-fingered hand. He wonders, has he grown any? The sleeves feel a little shorter today, although that could be from the vigorous scrubbing his mother gives the laundry.
"Be there in a minute, Mom!" That was Freddie responding to his mother, and this is Freddie wedging his wooden desk chair underneath his doorknob.
This is Freddie closing the white blinds on his window. This is Freddie crouching down to open the lowest drawer on his white dresser, and removing each meticulously folded Christmas sweater until he unearths a small cardboard box labeled "Dad" from the very back. He opens the lid, folds back the crisp tissue, and pokes through the small pile of objects.
This is Freddie's dad's football pin, glinting in the lamplight. This is a blue star, that Freddie remembers his four-year-old fingers tearing from his dad's leather jacket, covered in patches. This is a yellow star from the same place. This is a boat, like the bedside lamp but flat and blue, that came with the lamp, when Freddie went to pick it out all alone with just his dad on his fifth birthday. This is a bar of three stars, the pinback slowly rusting off.
"Be careful, Fredward, I know you like to take things apart, but this is very, very old." That was Freddie's dad, gently peeling small fingers away from the bar of stars, seven years ago. That was Fredward Benson, four years old, clambering onto his dad's wool overcoat.
Freddie snaps off the old pinback very, very carefully. From his desk drawer he withdraws a long, clean silver pinback, and finds that his soldering iron is nice and hot. He makes quick work of fixing the pin, blasting it with canned air to cool the two drops of solder. This is Freddie fastening it to his shirtfront, right above his heart.
He piles his homework and textbooks together, tapping them on the desk to align them properly, and slips them into his old and reliable backpack. He runs a hand through his hair, making it puff up in the front, and sighs, deeply. Now a decorated hero, Freddie Benson steps out to greet the day.
A/N This was written for the Groovysmoothie fic challenge of Decoration. I know, I know, it's not seasonal, it's not ornaments themed, it's not shippy. But I hope you liked it anyway. Freddie's dad is one of the many pink elephants in the room of iCarly, and it's a pet idea of mine that the badges Freddie wears almost always in season one are more than just a quirk of the iCarly costume designer. You can expect more rumination from me on those badges eventually, I'm sure. If you have *anything* to comment on, please do so. Thank you for reading!