iRoad Trip
an iCarly fanfic
by Goten0040
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Prologue
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I think we all knew that when Carly sat us down to talk to us that we weren't going to like what she was going to say.
It was the summer before our senior year of high school and the air felt humid and sticky, even in her well-conditioned apartment that she shared with her brother. I was squeezed in between said brother and her best friend on the couch. I wasn't sure why Spencer was sitting with us, watching Carly pace back and forth. By the grim look on his face and lack of humor, it was clear he already knew. Sam was silently watching too, her periwinkle eyes darting back and forth, and there was a jittery nervousness emanating from her that was contagious. I, however, wasn't mauling a leg of fried chicken to quell my nerves. Actually, if I had even had a bite, I would probably end up seeing it on the floor. That was how I dealt with my nerves. I wallowed in them.
But if any of us were nervous, Carly was ten times worse. She couldn't quite get her voice to come right away, so she was pacing, trying to work up the courage. She was particularly strung out over it, though that wasn't saying much, considering how neurotic she could be at times. She was always such a perfectionist that if anything was out of place, she'd panic. And something was very out of place. Nonetheless, I found myself wishing she'd speak already because not knowing was killing me. Just say it, I thought, quick and fast, like ripping off a Band-Aid. I glanced at Sam, who had finished her chicken, the bone lying messily on the coffee table in front of her, and sat still as a stone. That was what she was, a rock – Carly's rock.
"I'm leaving." The words struck me, a cruel sucker punch as I had looked for the strength everyone else seemed to have.
"What do you mean?" Sam's voice was softer than I was used to. "Like… for the summer?"
I think we were all fully aware that wasn't the case, but it didn't stop my wishing for it to be true.
"No…" Carly said, her voice meek and high-pitched, almost childlike. "I… I got a call…"
I knew immediately who had called. "From that film director?"
She nodded. "I… I got the role." As cheerful as she tried to sound, her eyes were glazed with tears, her voice laced with sorrow and guilt. "He wants me to move to New York."
"So you're going then?" I asked, and I tried to sound happy too. Of course, I wasn't the actor Carly was, so it wasn't exactly believable. "Congratulations!" I smiled at her, but it felt cracked and tight. "Spencer going too?"
"No… I'm staying with Socko's sister. Spencer will come out next year, when the lease runs out."
I looked at Spencer. He already looked lonely.
"…When do you leave?" I asked finally.
"Next week," she replied, devastation hidden shoddily behind her mask. "I think we should do a final iCarly. Go out with a bang, y'know?"
A final iCarly… I felt like I'd just been told someone close to me had died. It was a numb shock that left me paralyzed in my seat. iCarly, my project, my baby was dying.
"Y-yeah, sure. We can do that." My throat burned around a lump that was rapidly forming. I stood up and wrapped my arms around her. She felt so tiny. "I'm so proud of you."
I knew she wanted to say more, but I also knew she didn't have the strength. I looked to Sam, who had been deathly silent the entire time. Her eyes were cast down as she slipped silver rings on and off and on her fingers. I couldn't read her. Her mask was much stronger than Carly's, toughened after what had probably been the year from hell for her – not that she ever showed any issues.
Her mother went missing the year before. She'd been pretty quiet then too. In fact, Carly's announcement fell almost on the anniversary of Sam's mother's disappearance. She'd been living on her own ever since. Luckily, her father provided her with the money she needed to keep the apartment (probably out of guilt fro never being, and never continuing to be in her life).
Yep. She was completely silent: silent when we made some arrangements for the last show, silent as we said goodbye, and silent still as she tromped down the stairs to the lobby, leaving me at the top, staring after her in an anger I couldn't begin to understand. I wanted to say something, anything. But that was Sam Puckett – always leaving everyone wanting more. I knew I shouldn't have been angry. She had her way with dealing with things. But her best friend needed her support, and I had the self-righteous thought that she was being selfish (but then again, wasn't Carly being selfish for picking her career over people she loved? I knew it was one of the hardest decisions she ever made, but a childish side of me hated her for it.). Deep down, I knew I was just jealous that Sam could allow herself to feel the way she did. She didn't want Carly to leave; neither did I. But I had to suffer while faking a smile. That was relatively worse than yelling and screaming at times. I figured I'd bottle it up and eventually develop a tumor on my brain or something. It was rather incredible my mother hadn't yet, at least.
I pushed my glasses up on my nose. I'd had them for about three months. Years of staring at laptop screens and through camera lenses left my vision pretty lousy, and though I tried to convince myself that my blurry vision was simply because I still wasn't used to the corrective lenses, as I dragged myself into my apartment and my bedroom, the tears running down my face, it was fairly obvious that was not the case.
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