"You are only young once, but you can be immature for a lifetime." -John P. Grier
18.
It's a big number, isn't it? It's not 9, not 12, not even 7 – it's 18. It's the number of freedom, of liberty, of finally moving out of your mom's house.
So when your 18th birthday comes, you expect something big, right? Something out-of-this-world, something that defines magic. Cheesy, but true. Beware, though – there's a chance that your ex-girlfriend won't be your ex anymore, or that your mom will have a major spazz attack over you being an adult. When you're me, at least.
Good morning, iCarly fans. My name is Freddie Benson, and this is the story of my birthday.
It all started on February 4, 2012, when I was coming down the stairs of my apartment. I was expecting a huge non-fat, glutton-free, Marissa Benson-styled breakfast, maybe a few touches of sugar out of celebration, and a couple of her therapists about to jump up and yell, "Surprise!" when I come inside the kitchen.
But no. Because with the luck I had, all I got was a mom dressed in head-to-toe black, sobbing in a corner, repeatedly crying out, "I'm a bad mom! I'm a bad mom!" to her reflection in the toaster oven.
She stood out in the bright, canary-colored room. The tiles were ivory white, stained by eyeliner-mixed tears, and plants grew everywhere. ("Hey, Mom, what's with all the small trees?" "The world might run out of oxygen, Fredward. At least we'll have a supply.")
I cautiously walked a little closer to her and asked, terrified, "Mom?"
Don't get me wrong; I've seen her in worse conditions (i.e. when she found about me and Sam), but still, she looks like a lunatic.
Upon hearing my voice, her head immediately snapped up in my direction. I practically saw the crazy in her eyes. "Freddie?"
"Uh, Mom, why are you-"
You guys know that Sam always tackles me, right? I'll hit the floor, and maybe get a concussion, but it's worth it. To me, that's good pain. My mom hugging me to death? Not so much. "Fredward! You're still here!" she cried happily, squeezing me tighter, if that's even possible.
Imagine me, an eighteen-year-old dude, getting hugged by my mommy. What was I supposed to do, push her? She'll get even more depressed and do something even more stupid.
"Mom, what are you talking ab-"
"I thought you left like your father did! Oh, my baby boy is still with me, thank Lord Jesus in Holy Heaven!" she exclaimed, shaking my shoulders and looking up at the sky thankfully. "I thought you ran off with that ex-girlfriend of yours! That maybe you bought that car you wanted and…and… You almost left me, baby!" She broke out crying again, staining my purple penny-tee.
"Mom, don't worry," I chuckled, rubbing her back comfortingly, "I won't leave you."
"Ever?"
I chose my words carefully. But how you say I'm going to leave you one day without sounding mean? "W-well, I'll have to go to college soon after I graduate, I'll have to get married…"
"EVER?"
"Fine!" I frowned. Well, what she doesn't know won't hurt her. Yet, at least. "I won't leave you!"
She let go of me, a grin on her face, and a phone in her hand. "Good." She wiped the makeup off her face, took a tissue from her napkin stash in the back of the coffee maker, and stretched her arms open wide, asking me to hug her again.
"No time, Mom. I have to go to school! I'll be late!"
She nodded, handing me an apple. "Will this do for your birthday breakfast? I'll make it up to you at dinner."
I smiled, but declined. "No thanks, Mom. I'll just grab a Fat Cake from Sam's locker."
She raised an eyebrow, as if saying, You really think that's going to happen?
Shrugging, I started to walk to the door, thought about what I said, and went back to take the apple back from her awaiting hand. "You know, just in case."
"Just in case that Puckett girl's snack is more important than you?"
"Pretty much." I threw her a quick smile, about to walk out the door when T-Bo, in a towel (just a towel) walked into the kitchen.
"Yo, Mrs. Benson! When'd Sam say we were supposed to go to Fre- " he started, but saw that I was in the room. His eyes went big. "Freddie!" I saw my mom make hand gestures, but I wasn't sure what they meant. "LEAVE!"
"Wha-"
"NOW! ADULT STUFF GOING ON!"
"But this is my house!"
"SHOO!" And with that, he pushed me out the door, but not before I heard my mom on the phone.
"He's out of the apartment, Samantha."
He's out of the apartment, Samantha… He's out of the apartment, Samantha…
I repeated the sentence over and over again my mind, hoping I could understand what He's out of the apartment, Samantha means. Why would Mom inform Sam that I've left my apartment? And why would Sam answer her call? Heck, why do they even have each other's number?
"Hey, Benson, happy birthday."
Snapping out of my thoughts, I turned around, and saw a pair of crystal eyes shining through a mash of golden curls. It was the Hostess of Hostility, the Mistress of Meat, the Princess of Power, herself: Samantha Joy Puckett.
I was shocked. Sam remembered my birthday? The same Sam that once forgot her mom's name? ("Pam Puckett is too stupid of a woman to have the privilege of having her name remembered." "She gave birth to you!" "On a bus!")
"Oh, thanks, Sam." I smiled, then turned to head to my next class. But I suddenly felt a small hand on my shoulder, turning me around.
"Sorry, Benson. But Momma's kidnapping you."
"Oh, this is a good one! Turn it up!" I was currently inside Sam's car – a red Mustang Pam's boyfriend got her – being forced to drive. Some song on the radio came up, and now she's jumping off her seat, grinning and eyes shining. "Oh, wait. It's almost over…"
"What song is this, anyway?" I asked, genuinely curious. It was really good, slow and very simple. I wouldn't have expected Sam to like a genre like this.
As the song picked up pace, Sam's breezy reply came: "Pardon Me by Here is We."
I got my eyes set on you,
My heart is burning red
All of my words come out wrong,
Run circles in my head,
You had me and I melted,
In the palm of your hand,
You know it yes Ii felt it,
You'll never understand,
Mean it truly,
sincere heart….
Why do you do this to me?
Tear me apart?
Mean it truly,
sincere heart…
Why do you do this to me?
Tear me apart…
"Where are we even going, Puckett?" I demanded gently, sighing as she pointed to the left. "My gas tank is almost empty."
Her eyes were focused on the road ahead of us. "Shut up and let me handle everything," she replied absentmindedly. I rolled my eyes, then changed the radio station. "Oh, and turn to the left."
"But we already passed Bushwell!"
"I'LL PASS YOUR BODY TO THE MORGUE IF YOU DON'T TURN LEFT!"
So I turned left. Then a right. Then another left. And before I knew it, we were at a children's playground. With the children still in it.
I took in the scenery – there were small children running around the grass, giggling and laughing. Sam jumped off her car, walking towards a little blonde girl with ringlet curls.
I followed her, feeling a little out of place. The little girl smiled at her, and frowned at me. I saw she had striking ocean-blue eyes, and was wearing an outfit similar to Sam's: Dark jeans, black Chuck Taylors, a white long-sleeved shirt, and a leather vest.
Sam wrapped an arm casually around the girl's shoulders and grinned up at me. "Fredhead, meet Jeanie Puckett. She's Uncle Carmine's kid."
Jeanie shot me a pointed glare, making me cringe uncomfortably. "Uh, nice to meet you, Jeanie." I offered her a handshake, but was declined by her through an eyeroll.
"I don't need your nub germs rubbing off of me, Fredward," she sassily replied.
"It's Freddie…"
"I know."
Sam grinned. "Don't you just love my family?"
Jeanie and I were sitting on a park bench near the school. Sam was buying a corndog (after she stole my wallet) and her cousin was chugging down a can of Peppy Cola.
"So, Freddifer, why'd you and Cousin Sammy break up? Did she recover from her concussion and realized you were a dork?" she asked, dead serious. She burped, then threw the empty can at a plump jogger passing by.
The jogger, who looked like she was about to pass out from exhaustion, looked at the can on the ground, and then gave me a dirty look. She stomped on it, picked it up again, and threw it at my head. "STUPID TEENAGER! I'LL HUNT YOU DOWN! YOUR LITTLE WEBSHOW WON'T SAVE YOU!"
A downside to being a part of iCarly: People know who you are, and therefore know your name. So if you do something bad to them, then can call the cops on you. Or kill you.
"Answer the question." Jeanie grabbed the lollipop from the mouth of a baby passing by.
"Uh, I don't really know what to say…"
"And Sam said you were the smart one…" Jeanie sighed. "Just tell me why you two broke up."
I frowned sadly. "We didn't have much in common…"
She looked at me, confusion evident in her expression. "So?"
"What do you mean 'So?'? We had almost nothing in common!"
She shook her head. "So what?" She took the candy from her mouth. "Opposites attract. You're supposed to have nothing in common. You have to learn how to like stuff the other one likes."
I stared blankly at her, a little shocked by how intelligent she is. At least about relationships. "How do you-"
"First boyfriend. Age 6. I know stuff."
I was about to question how she managed to get a boyfriend so young, but Sam suddenly appeared, holding two corndogs and a stick. "Hey, sorry I took so long." She plopped down between me and Jeanie, handing a corndog to her cousin, and giving me the stick. "A dog ate yours."
"That dog always eats my food when you buy my lunch."
"The dog gets hungry easily!"
After a couple of hours, we decided to head back to my apartment.
Big mistake.
Because when we got there, the very first thing that greeted us was…well, something disgusting.
The whole apartment was filled with roses, slow music was playing, the lights were dim, and Mom and Lewbert were swapping spit. On the floor.
I was about to scream at them, but a flash suddenly came off. Sam was taking pictures.
"Sam, stop it," I whispered. "I don't want this to be recorded."
"But T-Bo's video-taping them!"
"What?"
Sam pointed at the kitchen door. And to my surprise, T-Bo was holding a cellphone, directly pointed at the – ugh – couple making out on the floor.
I've had enough. "MOM! CUT IT OUT!"
Upon hearing my voice, she quickly stood up, breaking their kiss. "Freddie!"
Lewbert groaned. "Not you again!"
We ignored him. "Mom, why are you making out with that?"
Sam added, "And why was T-Bo video-taping you guys?"
Mom's eyes widened, quickly turning around, catching T-Bo in the act. He was grinning evilly. "TERENCE!"
He quickly went back inside the kitchen. Mom turned back to us, rolling her eyes.
Lewbert took a step towards me. "Listen kid," he put his arm around me. "Your momma, she needs a man. An' since you're leavin' her, goin' off to some dumb school, I'm goin'a just, y'know, fill in."
And as a response, I twisted his arm and flipped him.
"Dude!" Sam exclaimed, high-fiving me. "That was awesome!"
Mom immediately ran to him, checking his pulse and wiping off some sweat. "LEWBY!"
Sam, who looks a little disturbed, whispered, "I think we better go before 'Lewby' wakes up…"
"Agreed."
Just before we were about to head out the door, Mom suddenly looked up and said, "Samantha, 7:00."
I saw Sam nod through peripheral vision.
Something's going on here.
"So, Blondie, where are we going next?" I asked, my eyes not leaving the road. I was, once again, being forced to drive her car, headed to God-knows-where.
I have to give Sam props – she knew how to keep an adventure going. I would have never imagined spending my birthday like this.
"Well, what time is it?" she asked absentmindedly, messing with the radio.
"6:30."
…she never drives her car
She drives me crazy
She ran out of gas and somehow I'm to blame
I'll take her out and drop her off
On the outskirts of our town
I'd leave a trail of roses that lead back home
(so come back home)
She'll pick a fight for no good reason
She knows I'll never leave
I love her half to death but she's killing me-
"I'm changing it."
"Hey! I liked that song!" I exclaimed, upset.
She smiled. "Exactly. Now turn to the left."
Sam led me to a small building, forcing me to close my eyes. I peeked, though, and saw that I was at school.
"Where are we?" I asked, sighing. I hate surprises almost as much as I hate Lewbert.
Sam didn't answer.
Suddenly, I heard a door open, and bright lights turned on. "Open your eyes, Freducation."
We were at the courtyard again – where Sam kissed me. The trees were covered in twinkling fairy lights and a stage was set up. I felt myself grin idiotically.
"As your birthday present," Sam started, "I am giving you the chance to look inside the girls' bathroom!"
My face fell.
"That's it?"
"Just go look into the bathroom!"
I followed Sam's instructions, and grudgingly stomped over to the bathroom. I was hoping she was going to sing for me…
Walking inside, I noticed it was very…erm, pink. And not nice, soft pink; it was nostalgia pink. I have no idea why girls like Wendy and Carly spend hours primping up here and not be bothered by the color.
Something caught my eye, though. A card was taped to the wall, and my name was scrawled in the front.
I walked towards it, and took it from the mirror.
Dear Fredalupe, it read. I knew automatically it was from Sam. You didn't think this bathroom trip was your big birthday present, did you? Please. Momma's supposed to be unexpected. Anyways, if you want your real present, go to the courtyard again, and if you dare laugh, I'll maim and/or castrate you. – Princess P.
I don't know what Sam was planning, and I didn't think much about it, because all I wanted to figure out was why I started running to her.
I bust open the double doors, excited and all I found was another card.
I sighed and picked it up. I opened the small, blue card, and heard a voice. Sam's voice.
The card had a pre-recorded message.
"Yo, Benson. It's Sam. See, like I said, I'm s'pposed t'be unexpected, right? Well, prepare to be surprised." A guitar started to play, and I knew very well what was going to happen.
"Oh,oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
I've been roaming around, I was looking down at all I see
painted faces, fill places I can't reach
You know that I could use somebody...
you know that I could use somebody...
Someone like you and all you know and how you speak
countless lovers undercover of the streets…"
The song came to an abrupt halt, but was soon continued by an angelic voice behind me. Sam was on the stage, in a flowy white sundress I know she'd never war again, and was playing a black guitar.
"You know that I could use somebody…
You know that I could use somebody...
Someone like you
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Off in the night, why'd you live it up, I'm off to sleep
waging wars to shape the poet and the beat…"
I was completely enthralled by the music. Sam hopped off stage, not stopping her song.
"I hope it's going to make you notice...
I hope it's going to make you notice...
Someone like me...
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, someone like me...
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, someone like me... somebody...
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, wha-ah-ah
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh…
I'm ready now, I'm ready now
I'm ready now, I'm ready now
I'm ready now, I'm ready now
I'm ready now)
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, someone like you somebody
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, someone like you... somebody
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, someone like you... somebody
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh…
I've been running around, I was looking down at all I see..."
I was completely shocked. Did she just ask me out? Or was I the one supposed to do that?
"Sam, that was amaz-"
But I didn't get to finish my sentence. Why? Because Sam was kissing me. And surprising us both, I was kissing back. Desperately, at that.
At that moment, I remembered something a new friend told me just a few hours ago: Opposites attract. You're supposed to have nothing in common. You have to learn how to like stuff the other one likes.
It didn't matter that Sam and I were different; nothing mattered, really. We love each other. To heck with what anyone else thinks. All I know now is that I have my Sam back.
"Happy 18th birthday, Benson."
Freddie Benson sat in his chair, reading an old blog he posted ten years ago, entitled My 18th Birthday.
"Hey, Fredhead! Come on, we have to go to Carly's wedding!" he heard his wife call. She stepped inside the room, looking like she did the day she sang to him. The same flowy white sundress, holding the same guitar. "The Maid-of-Honor slash wedding singer and the Best Man can't be late!"
His eyes sparkled like they did the first time he saw her like that, and he smiled like he did ten years ago. Nothing changed, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
"Coming, Sam."
Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly or any of its characters, Pardon Me by Here is We, She's Killing Me by Rocket to the Moon, or Use Somebody by Kings of Leon.
Please review. :) I worked real hard on this, so feedback would be appreciated. Stuff is just going on in my life, and I don't know what to do. My grandparents and aunt are moving after 13 years of having me get used to seeing them everyday, and not to mention the drama of moving their stuff out and having to design my room. :P
Anyways, please review. :)
-Gabby
PS. Constructive criticism is welcome.