Fixing Sam
Disclaimer: I don't have any legal rights to iCarly. Nickelodeon does, it is created by Dan Schneider.
You're happy, so happy, so extremely happy. So why am I not happy with you? And why do I feel sick every time I see you flashing that smile of yours, and absolutely hate it when your eyes sparkle? Right, I remember, I told you I wasn't interested and so you found someone that was. Someone who isn't me, someone that loves you, someone who isn't too scared about everyone else to tell you just how much you mean to them, to me.
"You can't." You are no longer broken; instead your usual calm blue eyes are blazing, blazing with rage, familiar rage but an unfamiliar target. "You. Can. Not. Do this to me!" You're pacing then shaking your head madly and in an instant you growl, "You lost your chance Carly, and guess what? I'm happy you did!" You're lying, I know it and you know it too because suddenly you break. Tears of dismay pour out from your beautiful mouth as you rest your head ever so lightly against the wall. High walls of defense come crumbling down, shattering like glass. "Why? Why do you always do this to me?" I've never seen you so broken before and it's scary but most of all, its heartbreaking. "I love you Carly, you know this so why are you hurting me? Is this some kind of sick joke or a phase? Cause I'm not some toy you can play with, then ditch once you find something better," You're looking at me with those blue-blue eyes of yours and I can't say a single word. So I run. Run away like the year before and the year before that one, run from the one person I wish I could truly stay with forever.
I don't meet your eyes in the halls anymore and you don't bother to pretend that I exist, or acknowledge the fact that just last week I was your best friend. You've made new friends now, Gray and Jessie, both of them are slim balls but I don't tell you this. I'll never tell you this. Because I'm the reason behind all your mess-ups, the sole reason for why you are hanging around those wannabe delinquents and worst of all, I'm too scared to do anything about it.
Freddie tried once, he tried to fix you and you had pushed him away violently. Screaming how he had wet his bed all the way up until third grade and the whole had school heard. He never tried to fix you after that. He lies about hating you. I don't hate you; I can't bring myself to hate you. Even after you spray-painted my name next to offensive drawings and even if you spread all sorts of nasty rumors about me and Freddie. I can't hate what I've helped to create.
Eventually you stop; when I asked, Freddie told me you grew bored of my nonchalant reactions. But that's a lie because as soon as I lie down on my bed, I would cry, ball at how terrible I am for neglecting you and wonder if you meant all those snide remarks. And it didn't take me long before I noticed just how broken I am without you. Even when I smile I'm sad and the year I made the top-ten honors' list I felt disappointed. So I began surrounding myself with people I didn't know or even care to know, all I knew was that they were pretty, happy, and popular.
When you would pass by wearing torn-down jeans and rock-concert T's with Gray on your right and Jessie to your left, I knew, I knew right then that I'll never be able to call you my bestfriend ever again.
He misses you, I don't know if you've noticed but he's changed ever since you've isolated yourself from us. Freddie doesn't rant with joy rather he lists facts, he doesn't smile as much or as wide, and he definitely misses you. During class, the rare ones where you're seated nearby, he would stare at you with longing eyes -missing eyes. And I suppose that's all my fault as well. Lately I've been really good at pretending; lying to myself that one day you'll return demanding a slice of ham like always. But you never do and you never will. Because you're broken, because I've broke you.
I want to fix you…but I can't, incapable of reconstructing perfection. And you, Sam, is perfect.
When I heard that you went all the way to third base with that sleaze-ball Gray I felt my palms turn cold with numbness. I cried that day, in the girl's washroom even as random girls came in and rushed out. I balled until I couldn't feel my nose anymore and my eyes stung so much, it was hard to even blink. Then you came, I froze and pulled my knees up into my chest over the toilet seat's lid. Silencing my hiccups, afraid you might notice me but you didn't. You didn't know that I listened to you cry or how I held my breath as you confessed how much you missed being your old self and how you've never even kissed Gray. When you left like all the girls before, I smiled because maybe, just maybe, I could fix you.
The next couple of days pass by like the days before, only faster. In fact, sometimes I don't even remember waking up to brush my teeth and dressing to go to school, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and if I'm lucky, be able to hear your voice. I've noticed that today, you aren't guarded by your usual pair of misfits, but the two aren't far. Jessie's busy exploring the mouth and possibly- probably much more of Laci Brooker from my Phy. Ed Class. Both of them only a couple of feet away from where you are standing. Beautifully resting against, no doubt, one of the teacher's more expensive looking cars. Crumbs from the cookies you're eating gets stuck on the once squeaky-clean windows, and you've noticed too because you're smirking. The very same smirk you used to smile whenever you've done, did, or will do something terrible to Freddie. Freddie, the one boy you would never ever suck faces with because you're too afraid at the possibilities that he might give you nerd-germs, which in your books are far more gruesome than any cootie or broccoli. I smile my first smile since you've left, mesmerized in fond childhood memories. Then I frown, because I know that's all I'll ever have of you from now on. Only memories.
Author's Note: I sort of sat down and basically puked this little piece out. Not sure where it's going to go.