A/N:

A quick and basic background to the story: Carly was in Italy for a year and is now coming back to Seattle and surprising everyone. Carly, Sam, Freddie, and Gibby are 19; Spencer is 31. Also, Carly does some diary writing from time to time and the story is from her first-person point of view—something I've never done before, so bear with me! That's all I'm giving you for now, just so you know. J

Disclaimer: Dan Schneider owns iCarly, I do not.

Dear Diary,

Italy was fantastic—the food, the boys, the fashion, and most importantly, my dad. Spending a year with him was something I had dreamed about doing since he first left when I was eleven. It was great, but I know that Seattle is where I belong.

As great as a time as I had, I miss Spencer and my friends so much. I'm on a plane now to go surprise them; they'll never see it coming! And Sam thinks I can't pull a good prank…

I can't wait to see everyone! I wonder how things have changed. I Skype everyone as much as I can but we all get busy and the time change makes it difficult. And what will we do about iCarly? Pick up where we left off? I hope we can once I figure out school.

The pilot just announced that we're approaching Seattle, I better go! I'll write again soon.

I closed my diary, buckled my seatbelt, and looked out at the clouds. Seattle clouds. Why was this place so magnificent to me? It isn't as physically beautiful as Florence. It's wet and cold most of the time here. But I love it more than any place in the world. There's just something about this place…I don't think I ever want to leave again.

As soon as we land and get off the plane, I text my dad to tell him I've arrived safely. He worries about me returning to Seattle after being under his supervision for a year.

After I retrieve my luggage from baggage claim, I call a taxi and tell the driver to go to Bushwell Plaza—my home. Although the ride is only about twenty-five minutes long, it feels like an eternity goes by before we arrive at Bushwell. I thank the driver and give him the cash I owe him, and as he drives away I am left here to marvel at the home I've missed for a year.

I take my many bags—it's a struggle with two huge suitcases and three travel-size bags—into the lobby before I hear an obnoxious, shrill voice behind the front desk.

"OHHHHH, WHAT ARE YOU DOING BACK HERE? I thought you were in Italy," Lewbert shouted. He put extra emphasis on "Italy", as if he was mocking my trip. He's probably just jealous, I note as I notice his wart is still there—and has possibly gotten bigger, if that could happen.

"It's great to see you, too, Lewbert. But I'm home now, for good," I say with confidence. I can't wait to do "Messin' with Lewbert" again, I think to myself and smile. "Uh…can I maybe get some help with these bags?" I ask nervously, a little bit scared of what Lewbert's reaction might be.

"UGHHH," he screams, "Do it yourself!"

Just then, a cute guy in a Bushwell employee uniform walks out from the back office and calms Lewbert, "Hey, Lewb…chill out, man. Did you run out of your meds again?" the guy says, poking fun at Lewbert while simultaneously relaxing him. He's tall, looks around 20, has dark brown hair, and is wearing a beanie on his head probably because it's so messy. "Can I help you, Miss?" he offers.

"Uh, yeah. Can I get some help with these bags? I live in 8-C," I say as I think about how good it feels to say that again after a year.

"Of course. Do you have an authorization key for the cargo elevator?"

"No, but my brother is probably home if we go to the front door."

"Alright, then we'll take the public elevator," he says as he approaches me and takes one of the huge suitcases and all three bags. I admire his strength for a moment and then follow him to the elevator.

"You're coming home from a long trip, I assume?" he asks me curiously.

"Yeah, I spent a year in Italy with my dad."

"Wow, must have been nice! I've always wanted to visit Italy," he says with enthusiasm.

"It was great, but I'm really glad to be home. You're new here, aren't you? I don't recognize you."

"I got a job here about…four months ago?" he says as he thinks, "Yeah, four months ago. Gosh, it seems like way longer than that with Lewbert. Guy is a piece of work," he says as he shakes his head.

"Tell me about it," I agree.

"My official job title is 'Assistant to the Doorman'. Not even 'Assistant Doorman'. Now I know how Dwight Schrute feels," he jokes, referring to The Office, and I laugh.

The elevator doors open and I lead the way to 8-C. "Ohhh, are you Spencer Shay's sister?" he says in a moment of realization.

"Yup," I happily declare.

"I talk to him and his girlfriend sometimes. He's a cool dude. Great artist, too."

"Wait, did you say girlfriend?" I ask him, confused, "My brother, Spencer Shay, has a girlfriend? Are you sure?" I think about Spencer's past with girls and somehow have a hard time believing that he has an official girlfriend.

"That's what I think she is…I guess you'll find out soon."

"Yeah, I guess," I agree as I reach into my pocket and hand him a few dollars for helping me with my bags, "I can take it from here. I want to go in and surprise him alone." I try to hand him the money, but he doesn't take it.

"Thanks, but it's no big deal. You can keep it," he says with a kind smile.

"Really?" I ask as he nods, "Okay. Thanks…er, I never got your name."

"Oh, it's Evan," he says as he puts his hand out to shake.

"Hi, Evan. I'm Carly," and we shake hands."

"Welcome home, Carly. See you later," he adds as he turns back toward the elevator.