This has been floating around my computer for months and I'm still not sure if I like it. Oh well, enjoy. Mostly revolving around the relationships between Sam and Mel and Carly and Sam, with a bit of Seddie thrown in for kicks.
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Melanie Puckett got drunk and stumbled in front of a car the day before her 17th birthday, and Samantha Puckett had never hated her more. Because, really, who the fuck did she think she was? She had already left her once, no need to do it again.
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Carly Shay couldn't help but be a little bit worried when she walked into the Puckett household (small, messy, a bit overwhelming, just like her best friend) to wish the girl in question a happy 17th birthday and saw her calmly throwing mirrors at the wall across from her.
"That's, uh," she said awkwardly as she walked in, Freddie a few steps behind. "That's a lot of bad luck." Sam didn't respond, just picked up another small hand mirror and threw it at the wall across from the sofa she was sitting on.
"Sam?" Freddie tried cautiously, holding onto Carly's wrist to stop her as she made to walk over to her friend. "What are you doing?"
"91 years' worth," she said quietly, still staring at the wall as though it was a math sum she couldn't figure out. Freddie and Carly looked at each other, confused.
"… Sorry?"
"13 mirrors, so that's 91 years' worth of bad luck."
"And… why are you smashing mirrors?"
Sam suddenly looked toward them, her eyes unfocused.
"Did you know we were completely identical? Sometimes I would wake up in the morning and forget which one I was."
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Carly did her hair on the morning of the funeral because looking in mirrors made her forget there was no such thing as ghosts.
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It was weird, seeing people who she felt like she knew but she didn't really. That red-haired girl, she'd seen pictures of her in Melanie's monthly 'I'm sorry I pussied out because I don't like when things aren't easyperfectfun and that you hate me but I'm still going to pretend to be a good person by contacting you' email but she actually knew nothing about her.
There were a lot of double takes and paled faces and what the fucks before it clicked that that must be the sister she'd mentioned that one time, and imagine what that poor girl is going through.
The funeral was short and sweet, just like her sister. She was going to say something, about the sister she once had when they were both a bit younger and a bit more fragile but she just shook her head when it was her turn to get up and celebrate how stupid the girl was, because no one wanted to hear the stories she had and to be honest, she knew as much about the new-and-improved (and dead, she's fucking dead) Melanie Puckett as she did that red-head. And she didn't even know her name.
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Carly and Freddie were just waiting for the explosion of tears and screaming and swearing because one day Sam was quiet and the next she was walking into the Shay's apartment like she owned the place and eating everything in their fridge, and they could only fix her if she was broken.
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They thought they were going to get it two weeks after the day-which-they-didn't-talk-about. Sam and Carly were on the couch watching crappy 2am T.V, Sam's feet on her best friends lap as Freddie helped Spencer paint a sculpture which no one could figure out the meaning of in the kitchen.
"Guys," Sam said quietly, her eyes closed. "Do you think it's possible to want it so badly that you can swap places with someone else?"
"No," the other three said in unison, waiting for the Sam Puckett Explosion which didn't come.
"Me, neither," she sighed, before rolling onto her side, facing the back of the couch and falling silent. Carly carefully moved from her spot at the end of the couch and lay down beside the blonde girl, wrapping her arms around her waist and burying her face into the back of her head. Sam would have cried if she were the type of girl who did that, but she wasn't so she didn't. Because it wasn't Carly's fault that it reminded her of 10 years ago, when Daddy was shouting and Mum was crying and Mel was saying 'it's okay, we have each other.'
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She thought that was the worst thing about watching people cry for her sister. None of them actually knew her; she was just a fucking fantastic liar.
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Melanie had never liked Carly. They got into a giant argument about it, once. Mel had screamed (why are you trying to replace me) and so had Sam (why are you so fucking self-centred, I'm allowed other friends) and by the next week she had applied for a scholarship to some fancy boarding school and just like that, she was gone within the month.
Sam had wanted to be angryangryangry but instead she was just tiredtiredtired, so she perhaps didn't put up as much of a fight as she should have (all Mel ever wanted was to be wanted) and they both wished it weren't but things were just different after that.
And now she's dead so it won't ever get fixed. Whatever.
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She wasn't trying to replace Mel with Carly. She just wanted someone who didn't have to love her, and Carly was so bright happy sunshine smiles that it didn't matter how fucked up Sam's head was, there was someone she could borrow happiness off right next to her.
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One night, Carly was staying at Sam's house because Spencer was out of town and when Sam was away from her she got uneasy, when the front door banged open and in stumbled Pam Puckett, in all of her drunken glory. Sam got to her feet and slipped an arm around her mother's waist, a dance she knew all too well, before guiding her to her bedroom and laying her down in her bed. Carly hovered, unsure of what to do and sure that her best friend's mother was going to die, when Sam snorted and went to walk out of the room, shaking her head (she'll be fine, she always is.)
"Wait," a voice slurred from the mess of blankets and pillows and blonde on the bed. Sam sighed.
"Yeah, mum?" Tiredtiredtired but she holds it together, because she prefers her mother drunk to sober these days.
"You're so pretty, girlie. Have I ever told you how pretty you are?" She smiled, slurring her words together but happy nonetheless.
"No, mum."
"Yes I did. I always tell you how pretty you look in your blue dress." (I don't own a blue dress, mum, stop it. We both know where this is going.)
"No, mum. That was Mel." (Was Mel. Was Mel. As in, past tense. As in the stupid bitch went and got herself killed.)
"You are Mel."
"I'm Sam."
"Who's Sam?"
Carly gasped quietly behind her before grabbing her hand and leading her out of the room. Sam knew she should have been surprised, but she wasn't really sure either these days.
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Mel had always been their mum's favourite, anyway. She was her dads. Another person who had walked out on her.
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The Sam Puckett Explosion came the next day, after an iCarly rehearsal which Sam was late for and Carly forgot was happening. Freddie awkwardly stood at his computer, playing solitaire while he faked doing something important because it was just too bloody uncomfortable to do anything else. Carly tapped a pencil to a blank sketch pad as she sat on a bean bag chair, both pretending to be productive and not glance at the clock every five minutes, because she was late and if this were a month ago they wouldn't have worried but it wasn't so they did.
"Freddie, I'm so scared for her," Carly whispered, as though saying it quietly would mean it wasn't true.
"She'll get here, Carls, she always does," he answered, but they both knew that wasn't what they were talking about.
And the door slammed open and she was angry, which was good because it meant there was still a bit of Sam left in her, and she started shouting and screaming and crying and throwing because who the fuck does she think she is, leaving secret letters about how she's sorry for everything? She doesn't get to be sorry, she's the one who left, she fucking left me, and Carly was crying too, but quietly, because contrary to popular belief, she knew when things were and weren't about her. And Freddie was shocked, because Sam had never let him see the side of her which was human, and she was still crying (why does everyone leave, Carls, it's not fair) and so was Carly (I'm not going anywhere, I promise), and Freddie had never seen Spencer look more serious than he did standing at the doorway, so he grabbed the blonde haired girl and let her fall fall fall (down the rabbit hole) into his arms as she cried for the fucking idiot who knew what alcohol did to her, and she did it anyway.
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Sam glanced in a mirror to fix her hair the next morning and didn't cry, so Carly Shay smiled because it was hard being angry at a dead girl.
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Sam handed the letter to Carly wordlessly, a weird smile on her lips which she couldn't figure out.
Dear Sammy,
I don't know if you'll find this in time, but if you do, call me. We're turning 17 next month and I'm scared shitless. I'm so sick of celebrating birthdays without you, and empty phone conversations which don't mean anything. I'm sorry, for everything. It was my fault, it was always my fault and I didn't know how to fix it so I got scared and ran away. I was so scared. Mum was a mess and you were always the stronger one of us; you always knew what to say to calm her down when she was in a mood and where she kept the dinner money when she forgot about us. I'm so proud of you for getting through that; I never was able to. You are so beautiful now and I wish we could be together again, just so I could say 'this is my sister, we look identical but we're complete opposites and I wish I could be more like her.' I watch iCarly every week, religiously, and my roommate thinks it's weird but I think it's hilarious. I always knew you could do something productive if you put your mind to it.
Do you remember when Dad left the second time, before he O.D'd but after he tried to take you away from us, and he told you to take care of me? I was so angry about that, I didn't talk to you for a week. I wanted to be the strong one but I think he always knew that you could hold us both together and I'd just fall apart. I wish I could be like you in that respect. You're so brave, Carly and Freddie don't know how lucky they are to have you.
I'm sorry I never liked Carly. She's such a lovely girl but I hate her on the principle of her trying to steal you from me when you were mine. I loved you first, but she loves you more.
I have to go now, my plane back to school leaves in an hour and mum's waiting to drive me to the airport. I know why you're not here to say goodbye, but I wish you were.
I'm sorry, for everything.
I love you,
Mel.
Ps. When you and Freddie finally hook up, call me. Immediately. Like, as you are putting your clothing back on, be dialling my number.
Carly looked up at her friend, handing the letter back. Sam laughed.
"Bitch called me Sammy. She knew how much I hate that name."
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Samantha Puckett woke up on the morning of her 18th birthday and forgot which one she was. But then she remembered because Carly Shay jumped on her bed and Freddie Benson kissed her on the cheek and she was alive and she was okay. She wasn't great, but she was okay.
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The Seddie totally wasn't necessary in that, but as if I could write something for iCarly without it. Reviews are love!