The sun broke through the thin curtains of Carly Shay's bedroom, hitting her best friend, Sam Puckett, in the eye as she slept on the floor amidst various cans of drinks and wrappers of junk food from the night before. Sam's eyes blinked open and she murmured. "Stupid sun." She rolled over and put an arm over her eyes.

It was the first day of summer vacation. Their junior year was now officially over, and Sam had a real excuse to live at Carly's apartment all summer: air conditioning. Seattle summers were warm and humid, the kind that made your hair stand up all day and gave you sweaty pits if you didn't use extra strong hair gel and 24-hour heavy duty deodorant.

It was noon, but, like every first summer night since they started high school, the girls stayed up all night with the help of energy drinks, processed food, and music. Sam had fallen asleep with a can of RockGod in her hand and Fat Cake smeared around her mouth on the floor. Carly had managed to get into the closet and was napping by her shoes.

As a rule, neither were allowed to wake up before two in the afternoon.

xxx

Across the hall, Freddie Benson hung upside down on his couch, flipping through the channels. "Freddie," his mother warned, "you can get brain hemorrhaging from that."

Freddie frowned and flipped back upright. "I'm just bored."

"Well," Mrs. Benson set an arugula and turkey on wheat in front of her son, "why don't you go to Carly's?'

Freddie shook his head. "I can't. It's too early."

Checking the clock that was hung cleanly above the television, Mrs. Benson said, "It's noon, dear. They should be awake by now. It's not ladylike to sleep past lunchtime."

"Yeah, but Ma -- Sam and Carly always celebrate the first night of summer by staying up all night drinking and eating."

Mrs. Benson gasped. "Spencer let them drink -- caffeine?" The word was like bitter venom on her lips.

Freddie nodded as he took a bite of his lunch. "But only this time of year," he lied. Carly herself drank so much Peppy Cola that if you cut her, you wouldn't get blood. You'd get cola.

"Well," Mrs. Benson repeated as she smoothed her skirt, "I would never let my Freddie-bear poison his frail teenage body with that garbage," she said, pinching Freddie's cheeks. He frowned. "Okay, then. You finish your lunch and don't watch anything violent. I'm going to the grocery store. I'll be back in a couple of hours." She stood, rumpled his hair, and left the apartment with her grocery list and purse.

Freddie changed the channel from the "We Love Math" show to some movie with exploding cars.

xxx

Carly's eyes were still closed, but her brain was slowly waking up. She yawned and stretched, wondering why in the world her room was so dark. When she sat up, something brushed her face. Actually, several somethings. She opened her eyes, but could still not see much, aside from light that outlined the room she was in. A bout of claustrophobia set in. "Uh, hello?" she called out, wide eyed in forgetfulness. "Is anyone out there?"

Nothing.

"Hello?" she tried again. "Where am I?" Something outside the room stirred; she could see its shadow blocking some of the light. The shadow opened the door.

"Good Lord, Shay. You're in the closet." Sam laughed. "You fell asleep at like four last night and I closed the door on you."

Carly furrowed her brows. "I fell asleep in the closet? I don't even remember."

"Yeah, you were all hyper on candy and you crashed ridiculously. You kind of crawled into the closet and went to sleep."

The light from the open door was illuminating what had brushed against Carly's face. Clothes. She laughed. "Wow. Remind me to stay away from Happy Farmers next year. I always crash." She crawled out and blinked in the bright sunshine. "What time is it?"

"Quarter to three," Sam answered, closing the closet door. "I got up like fifteen minutes ago and brushed my teeth. I was about to go downstairs when I heard you calling out for help. You know," she said, plopping down onto the bed, "if you were in a kidnapper's closet, you wouldn't have been safe yelling like that."

"Yeah, well," Carly said, rubbing her forehead, "that's what I was afraid of. What do you want to do today, Samantha?"

"Whatever I feel like doing, gosh!" Sam smiled. "Draw some pictures of ligers maybe. Get some computer hacking skills."

"I knew we shouldn't have watched Napolean Dynamite last night."

"It's a Sam Puckett Favorite. And it goes along with the tradition: we eat junk, drink junk, and watch movies with red headed kids sporting afros and Moon Boots."

"And insane dance skill."

"Ah yes," Sam said, rubbing her hands together. "You're correct. So -- what are we going to do?"

Carly shrugged. "Freddie'll come over later and we'll figure something out."

"He'll also be making me a meal like last weekend," Sam said, recalling last Saturday, when Freddie had made her a sandwich.

"We'll see about that," Carly said. "And anyway, I gotta go to the bathroom. You go wander."

Sam nodded. "Will do. Mind if I throw things at Spencer?"

Carly stopped and thought. She spun around to face Sam. "Only if you don't use anything expensive or break anything expensive. And that includes body parts."

"Can I use food?"

"Absolutely not. I'm the one that'll have to clean it up."

Sam frowned. "Linens?"

After a few moments of deliberation, Carly agreed. "It's not that hard to fold a towel or to. You have my blessing."

"Yay!"

xxx

Sam skipped down the stairs as best she could without falling, various towels and sheets in hand. Upon entering the landing of the staircase, she carefully turned her head around the corner to see if Spencer was in the living room. The television wasn't on, and the only thing she could hear was Carly singing Britney Spears in her shower. Being in the clear, she left the stairs and headed over to Spencer's room.

Just as she was about to turn the knob, the front door opened. "Hey!" Freddie called out, shutting the door behind him.

"Shh!" Sam hissed at him, bending to pick up the ammo she dropped, startled. "I'm trying to wake up Spencer!"

Freddie's mouth formed an "o" and he tip toed over to her. "Can I help?" he whispered.

"Yeah, I guess. Be you better be quiet."

The brunette nodded and grabbed a pink towel off the floor. "What exactly are we going to do with these?" he asked as he eyed the towels.

Sam sighed. "Throw them at Spence and wake him up! Now hush before I throw youacross the room." She opened the door carefully. Freddie took out his cell phone, the thought of recording this for one of iCarly's "Wake Up, Spencer!" segments dawning on him. The two quietly stepped into the room, Spencer snoring loudly. "Ready?" Sam asked Freddie, grinning. Freddie nodded and pressed the "record" button. "Wake up, Spencer!" they both yelled, firing linens at the sleeping man.

Hah...Seddie. I haven't written Seddie in such a long time.
Erniegway, this is multichaptered. (:

Review, if you wanna.