iCarly (c) Dan Schneider and Nickelodeon

Hey Everyone. Thanks for checking out my Fanfic!

WARNING: This fanfic is rated for violence and may not be suitable for some readers.

Chapter One: iAlways Keep Secrets

Sam Puckett turned the knob of the door, peaking into the seemingly empty apartment. Perhaps Carly wouldn't notice the bruise on her arm, or the state of her hair. There was a distinct possibility, also, that Carly wouldn't even notice she was late. Sam had been late every week for the past four weeks, and it was beginning to weigh on Carly's mind. Sam could tell. Not that it was entirely her fault. Carly would understand. She slid into the door, adjusting the knit cap she was wearing to cover her ears.

"You're late," a stern voice came from behind the counter. "Rehearsal was supposed to start five minutes ago."

Sam gave her a sheepish smile. "But...I'm less late than usual, right?" she said, trying to lighten the mood. Carly would have none of it.

"It doesn't matter if you're less late than usual! You're still late!" Carly snapped.

"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I had to..." she quickly thought of a lie. "Brush my cat's teeth."

Carly grimaced. "You don't even brush your own teeth."

Sam sighed. "I said I was sorry. And I'm here now. Can we just start rehearsal?"

"You know," Carly began. "I do a lot to make sure iCarly happens every week. I just wish you would show a little more enthusiasm about the work that we're trying to do here."

"You don't think I'm enthusiastic? I come up with half the stuff we do on the show!"

"Yeah, stuff like 'let's go dive in a dumpster and go hunt for buried treasure!'" Carly said, mocking Sam's lower tone.

Sam scowled. "That wasn't a bad idea."

"Yeah, except it's gross! Not even Gibby would do something like that!"

"Gibby would totally do something like that! And at least I don't suggest things that are illegal anymore!" Sam tried to give a smile. "So I'm getting better?"

"You're walking the line," Carly said bitterly.

"Carly..." Sam said sincerely. She approached her best friend in the most delicate way she could muster. "I'm trying, okay? I...made a spitwad the size of a golfball today in class and only threw it at ten people. That's progress."

"Progress?" Carly shook her head and walked away. "Sam, normal people don't throw their own spit at other human beings!" She crossed her arms. "So where were you?"

"I told you!" Sam lied again. Lying was a world she could thrive in. "I was brushing frothy's teeth! He has gum...cavities."

"Gum cavities?" Carly repeated in disbelief. "I can't believe you."

"What?"

"You blew off iCarly rehearsal for gum cavities?"

"I didn't blow off rehearsal!" Sam contradicted. "I'm here! I came as fast as I could! My mom was being-"

"Oh no. Don't try to pin this on her. This is your fault, Sam. You're late. So you need to start taking responsibility for when you mess up!"

"But-"

"Now go get changed. We have to do the wheel of Karma bit."

"Carly, if you just let me expl-"

"We've already lost time waiting for you to get here! So just put on the dress so I can see that it fits and then you can go eat all my food like you always do and we can get this over with." Carly went back to the kitchen.

"Okay, fine. Whatever."

Sam made her way upstairs, but ran into another familiar face on her way. "Hey, Fredlicks."

The boy, whose real name was Freddie, watched her sternly as she bounded past him. "Hey. Where have you been?"

Sam didn't stop. "I had to brush Frothy's teeth."

She had reached the top of the stairs when she felt Freddie grab her wrist, stopping her. "Why are you wearing a hat? I didn't even think you owned a hat."

Sam inhaled. "I like hats."

"Well, you're inside now, so you can take it off."

"What are you, my babysitter?" Sam complained. "Go nag someone who cares."

"Sam!" He ran in front of her. His tone immediately softened. "I can see it, just take it off."

Sam lowered her hat, further over her ears. "No you can't."

Freddie held out his hand. "Please?"

Sam sighed and peeled off the cap, carefully. She set it in Freddie's hand, moving her hair to the side. There in the corner of her face, was a large purple bruise, just as he had suspected. "There."

"And?"

"I was trying to brush my cat's teeth when he ran under the table, so I chased him under there and when I came up I hit my head," she explained.

Freddie looked at her, unimpressed. "You chased the cat under the table?"

"Yes."

"Then how did you hit the corner?"

Sam exhaled, speaking as though it was obvious. "I dove under the table where the corner was but I missed."

"But that was before you went under for the cat."

"Yes."

"So it happened twice. The first time you dove under, the second time you hit your head on the top?"

"Yes. Can you leave so I can change?"

"And it was the cat..." Freddie half asked.

"Yeah, the cat," Sam tried one last time. From the look of things, however, Freddie wasn't buying that story. "Or..." Sam gulped. "It could have been my mom."

"Sam!"

"Well, she was mad because I said that I wasn't going to be home tomorrow because I have iCarly and so she got mad and said couldn't go and so I got mad and told her that she needs a freaking social life and so she...threw a chair at the wall."

"Again?"

"But the leg was the only part that hit me so..."

Freddie breathed into his hands, unable to remain as calm as he would like. "Did you tell Carly?"

Sam frowned. "Last time my mom and I fought and involved Carly, her couch ended up in her kitchen and she still wanted me to move back home."

"Still," Freddie said. "I really think she'd be less angry if you just told her what was going on instead of making up excuses."

"Hey!" Sam protested. "I could have been brushing frothy's teeth!"

Freddie flattened his eyebrows. "Frothy is rabid. Brushing his teeth would put you at risk for disease."

"Oh..." Sam bit her lip. "So I...shouldn't do that anymore?"

"No!"

"Well, I didn't know!" Sam snapped. "I'm from a poor household! We're not that educated!"

Freddie sighed. "Are you okay?"

Sam stared at him, blankly. "What?"

"Are you okay, Sam?" Freddie repeated, harder. "Ever since you started telling me about all this home business I've been feeling a little...well...like it can't go on anymore!"

Sam growled. "Oh, so you've decided to care about me today." she spat.

She had been noticing this for a while now. Some days their friendship appeared on good terms, other days it was a bomb waiting to explode. Freddie's opinion of Sam was never consistent, that was one of the major issues. One second he could be praising her, the next scolding her for the same action. It changed so often Sam never knew how he really felt about anything. Was his caring the facade? Or was it his hate? It was impossible to tell, especially now that Carly was back in the mix.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She shook her head. "Nothing." She didn't want to deal with this today. "Just forget it."

Suddenly they heard footsteps coming up the stairs. "Sam!" Carly's voice called up. "What are you doing? You have to go change!" She shook her head disapprovingly, not even noticing Sam's bruise as she passed. "Freddie go downstairs and see if Spencer's ready to move his sculpture to the studio."

Sam followed Carly into the studio. Freddie walked down the stairs, telling Sam with his lips 'tell her'.

Sam inhaled. "So...Carly...I wanted to-"

"Sam I want to-" She turned around, just now noticing the bruise on her forehead. "Oh my god! Did something happen?"

"Yeah, I uh..." She looked into Carly's concerned eyes. Those eyes that loved her so much and would never do anything to hurt her. "I hit my head on the table."

"Oh my god, you poor thing!" She said. "Does it hurt?"

Sam's face flattened. "No, it feels like butterflies," she droned sarcastically.

"I'm going to go get you some ice," Carly said. "You wait here and get changed. Those dining room tables. They're just the worst."

"Yeah..." Sam said. "The worst..."

From that point on, iCarly rehearsal went just as it always did. Sam and Carly improvised, and Freddie mapped out his camera movements. Freddie flirted with Carly, and she in turn ignored him or directly and politely told him to stop.

Carly Shay. It seemed like there was nothing in the world that could phase her, at least in Sam's mind. She lived to serve others, to give them a new life and hope. She gave Sam much more than that, though. Carly was Sam's best friend, her go-to girl, the person Sam wished she could be. Carly was born from a broken family, but even though she didn't have a mother figure, and her father was down in the bottom of the ocean in a submarine, she had life pretty good. Almost too good, in Sam's opinion. How could a girl be that kind and have everything she wanted? Was life really that easily avoided for people like her? Those were the kinds of questions Sam couldn't help but ask herself. She felt guilty for doing so, though.

Carly had everything. She was the host of a popular web show. Sam didn't kid herself anymore. iCarly was Carly's web show, there was no doubt about that. She was just thrilled to be a part of it. It kept her off the streets, hanging with kids that might lead her to spending even more time in prison than she already had. Sam had made the record for the longest time spent out of prison in the family. Melanie was the only exception, but the Pucketts never really counted her in the drawing to begin with, she was such an outlier. But Carly had everything going for her, unlike Sam. That's what made her so great. An A student, an interesting artist of an older brother to give her perspective and a relaxed yet loving environment to grow in. Yes, Carly had everything. Any job she wanted, any material possession...any boy... But Sam was never jealous. How could she be? It wasn't like she deserved any of those things, especially when it came to the boy department. Besides, there was only one she wanted, and he undoubtedly was Carly's. First, middle and last. So Sam didn't trouble herself with meaningless nonsense like how much better Carly's life was than hers. Instead, she chose to think of the more important things in life, like what kind of food she wanted to eat out of her refrigerator.

Sam stepped out of the bus onto the sidewalk. The sky was heavy with grey clouds which loomed overhead, saturated with moisture. She groaned. Soon that moisture would be pelting her freshly curled hair. It wasn't that she minded getting wet, it was that going to bed with wet hair always made it frizzy the next day. The last thing Sam needed was doing the web-show with a head full of cotton ball hair for millions of fans to see. She walked briskly towards the end of the street where her house was.

She clacked up the stairs, one at a time, her high pumps slipping sideways onto the concrete. Stupid shoes, she thought angrily. Sam didn't want to actually do the makeover that day, but Carly had insisted. "I want us to look like that chick from the Wheel of Dough!" she had told her. Apparently she didn't trust Sam to do that kind of work herself. The blonde shook it off. That was a bit harsh. Carly was always concerned with appearances. It should have been no surprise that for the bit she wanted to look as swanky as possible. Sam leaned against the doorway, remembering how awkward the whole thing was. Freddie was back to drooling all over Carly, which was an event that never seemed to go away. Sam had come to terms with it now. It didn't work between she and him anyway. They broke up. It was over. He could do what he wanted.

Shaking some of the raindrops out of her hair, she opened the door. She peeled off her shoes, trying not to fall over. The light from the door shone into the hall as the rain began to come down harder. Her foot kicked the door shut behind her as she stumbled into the house. There were boxes upon boxes piled up in the back room. The aroma of day-old pizza permeated from the living room. Sam sighed. Home sweet home, she thought facetiously.

"Hey!" she called into the seemly empty house. She hoped no one would call back.

"I'm in the living room!" the brassy voice replied. "The litter box is full."

Sam dropped off her backpack and entered the dark room. A silhouette of a woman sprawled out on the couch stretched across the wall. Sam turned on the light to see her mother, still in her bathrobe with her feet propped up on the arm of the couch.

"We went late again so-" Sam was stopped by the expression on her mother Pam's face. She propelled her feet off the couch and sat up.

"Melanie? Is that you sweetheart?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "No, Mom. It's just me." Her deep tone said it all.

"Oh." Her mother sunk back into the couch. "What are you wearing? You look like the pink fairy vomited all over you," came her biting response.

Sam walked across the hall into the bathroom. Turning on the light, she looked at herself in the mirror. No major damage. "Carly wanted us to look alike," she said brushing her hair down. "You know. For the show."

Pam scoffed. "Well, that figures."

Sam put the brush down. "What?"

Her mom shrugged. "Nothing." She could hear the footsteps coming across the hall to meet her. She didn't have to look at her to know she was right there. "You're just turning into her that's all."

Sam's cheeks flushed. "I am not turning into her."

"Really. Just look at yourself. You spend so much time with Carly I kept thinking: 'Oh hey! She's just gonna turn into that girl one of these days!' And low and behold! It's finally happened."

"That's ridiculous."

"Oh no?" She appeared behind Sam in the mirror. "Look at what you're wearing."

"It's for the show."

"Yeah... the show iCarly. You should call your life iCarly because that's all we get around here. Carly Carly Carly!"

Sam turned around to face her mother. "Okay."

"Carly! Carly! Carly! Carly! Carly! Carly! Carly! Carly! Car-"

"Okay! I get it!"

There was a long pause before: "It's kind of sad, Sam."

Sam bit her lip, trying not to say something she'd regret. "What?"

"You think that if you put on a pretty dress and learn how to giggle you're just going to magically turn into her one day. It's just...a bit pathetic."

"I told you. I'm not turning into Carly."

"Then what's with the..." she reached down towards Sam's purse.

Sam moved it away. "Nothing!"

"Oh...okay..." She leaned over and grabbed her daughter's purse.

"Hey!" Sam reached for it, but her mother brought it out of the room.

"What have we got here? Lipgloss..." she announced, lifting it up to the dim light. "Mascara...oh and my favorite..."

"Come on, Mom. Give it back..." Sam said, following her down the hallway.

"Coverup!"

"Mom!"

"Ha! I don't wanna wear dresses anymore Mommy, you said! I wanna wear Daddy's boxer shorts and be a man, you said! And now look at you! Miss Priss walking around my house in pointy shoes and butt-dresses!" she snapped.

"It's not a butt-dress! And it's not even mine!"

"Why the makeup, Sam? You never used to like it before." She lifted the glass lipgloss above her head. "You think it'll make you pretty?" SMASH! The bottle fell to the ground, shattering on impact. Sam stood back, avoiding the crash. "Oops."

"Aw come on," she muttered.

"Do you think people will like you?" She threw the mascara against the wall. The container flew open, the black staining the wall like blood.

"Cut it out!" Sam shouted.

"No! This is what you want!" She held out the foundation towards Sam. "This is what you've always wanted."

Sam groaned. "You never had a problem with Melanie wearing makeup. Why is it she can and I can't?"

"Cause it's not about the makeup,Sam," her mom retorted. She waved the foundation bottle around. "That's right. It's about this."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. That is makeup, she thought, annoyed. "Foundation?"

"Coverup." Sam shook her head, confused as her mom continued to speak. "Oh, I'm a horribly useless human being. Coverup." She opened the bottle and painted her face with the liquid inside. Sam's nose flared as she made her way down the hall to the kitchen. Her mother followed, unable to control the laughter that was now consuming her. "Oh look! I am lazy and can't pass any of my classes! Coverup!"

"Shut up." Sam rolled her eyes.

"Cover up the filthy house and the rabid cat! Cover up the four arrests and the destructive behavior! The glass on the floor!"

"Just get lost!"

"Oh, but it's so easy. Just see a blemish and cover it up! Isn't that why you like playing dress up with Carly? Wouldn't you rather be her than yourself?"

"Yeah!" Sam screamed, whipping around to face her mother. "I would rather be Carly! She doesn't have to live with you!"

Pam grew quiet. Her face eventually formed a scowl. Without hesitation she grabbed Sam by the arm and dragged her down the hall. They arrived back at the bathroom mirror where it all began, mother holding daughter in front of the glass.

"Look. Do you see that?" the woman spat. Sam didn't look up. "I said look!" A hand grabbed a bunch of her hair and pulled her up so she was staring at herself in the mirror. "Who is that?" Sam didn't answer. "Who is that? Is that Carly Shay? Do you see Carly Shay in the mirror?"

"...no."

"No. Who do you see?" No answer. Pam thrust her hand forward, pushing her daughter's forehead into the glass. "Who are you!"

"Sam."

"Sam who?"

Sam stared into her own eyes. "Sam Puckett."

"That's right." Pam released Sam's head allowing her to fall toward the sink. "You are Sam Puckett and I am your mother. This is your house. That is your face. This is your life." She handed her back the foundation bottle. "And no matter how much of this junk you put on, that is who you are." With that, she walked out of the tiny bathroom back to her couch. "Now Sam can go clean the litter box. It's stinking up the place."

Sam caressed the foundation bottle in her hand, staring at herself in the mirror. All of the sudden, she couldn't stand what she saw. She lifted the bottle over her head and threw it as hard as she could against her reflection, the foundation spreading all over as the glass flew all around her.

"Samantha!" she heard her mother call from the living room.

The girl stormed up the stairs as fast as she could without stepping on the broken glass. She ignored her mother completely as she tried to navigate the stairs.

"Oh..." she heard her mother's voice from downstairs. "You think you're so innocent, blaming me. You know this isn't really about me, Sam!" she shouted. "You know what this is really about!"

Sam ignored her and continued to make her way across the hallway.

"This is about that Benson boy, isn't it?"

Sam didn't stop.

"You're still not over it."

She could hear her mom's words ricocheting through the walls, unavoidable.

"Poor Sam broke up with her boyfriend. Aw. Boo hoo hoo."

Sam grabbed her baseball bat from her room.

"You think you can win him back if you try to be Carly! It makes perfect sense! You can't stand the fact that he's choosing her over you."

Sam slammed her bedroom door shut.

"It's not gonna work, Sam. You already chopped off all your hair to be like her. You're wearing her clothes-" her mom began to laugh. "You haven't even hurt a kid in two weeks. It's like she's brainwashing you."

The baseball bat thudded down the stairs. Each clang hit Sam's ear with a sharp ring.

"You did all that and it doesn't even matter. He wants the genuine article, not some cheap knock-off!"

Sam reached the bottom of the stairs. She dragged the metal bat across the archway into the living room.

"Hey! Maybe if you die your hair brown he'll fall in love with you again! Huh? What do you think?" she howled.

Sam opened the front door.

"Don't forget the litter-"

SLAM.

Finally, there was quiet. Sam listened to the pitter patter of rain falling on her front porch. Her blonde hair fell over her face, slowly dampening from the rain. She wasn't going to cry. There was no point. Everything her mother said was true. She could feel her chest tighten as she inhaled and exhaled. Her hand trembled, trying to keep its grip on the bat. A clash of thunder erupted into the sky, but Sam was un-phased. It didn't matter what the weather was like. She wasn't going back inside.

She walked down the concrete steps, barefooted as she didn't bother to put on shoes before she left. She heard the scrape of the metal bat dragging along the hard surface. Normally, she would swing it over her shoulder or even keep it in a bag, but not tonight. She began to walk through the dark night, allowing the rain to soak through her dress to the skin. Somehow, keeping her hair from frizzing wasn't important anymore.

Whack! The metal from the baseball bat hit the tree trunk. Whack! Whack! Whack! Sam beat it as hard as she could. Swinging the bat, she chipped off some of the bark on impact. It flew by her face, as though she were chiseling a statue out of marble. When she finally got all the frustration out, she collapsed against the tree. Breathing heavily, she looked through the rain towards a familiar clearing. There, sitting in the rain cold and forgotten, was an academy screen TV set. Sam recognized it right away.

She walked over towards the television, dragging the baseball bat behind her. She squatted down so she was level with the screen. It was completely shattered on one side with the wooden frame broken. She poked it with her bat.

"Huh." She lifted the bat over her head, towering over the machine. "Worthless piece of junk."

She swung the bat down as it crashed into the television screen. A large spark flew out of it and jolted Sam backwards. She dropped the bat and collapsed to the ground, hardly able to breathe. What happened? Did the thing actually electrocute her? Impossible. It must have been out there for years now. Sam yanked herself into a raised position. Hesitantly, she reached for her bat, tapping it to make sure there wasn't any residual charge. When the metal seemed safe, she grabbed it and hoisted herself up. Her feet were beginning to swell from the soil beneath her. She checked her cellphone, which was still in her jacket pocket. 11:58. Her mom would be asleep by now.

She dragged the bat behind her, back down the street, through the front door, up the stairs and into her room. She didn't care if she woke anyone up, although she never did. She dropped the bat onto the floor of her room with a thud before closing the door. She couldn't see anything. A flash of lightning illuminated everything inside the space for an instant before dissolving back into darkness. Everything was in silhouette. Sam flopped onto her bed, slipping out of her dress and kicking it onto the floor where it belonged. She crawled under the covers and covered her head. Her mother's words rang in her mind.

This is who I am, she thought. This bed, this hair, my bat...my TV...

She closed her eyes.

And nothing else.