Makes Me Happy
Melanie has been home for exactly five hours and twenty-three minutes and already Sam wants to jump out a window. Or puke. Whatever's easier.
"No, really, I love it," Melanie gushes, watching their mother model her newest bikini purchase. "It is so cute."
Their mother is flattered, and picks up the cat and modestly holds him in front of the excessively low cut top. Frothy is salivating excessively, but this doesn't seem to faze her. "Really? You like it?"
"Those little flowers are absolutely adorable," Melanie says. "And the fuchsia and orange are such complementary colours."
"Sam hated this one, you know," their mother says conspiratorially, as if it's some sort of joke.
"Oh, Sam always says that," Melanie says, smiling over at her. Sam grins back with chicken skin stuck inbetween her teeth.
-
By the time Sam's finished eating and gets upstairs, Melanie's already managed to clear out a spot in the closet for her clothes and she's found her bed under a pile of Sam's winter clothes. There's a nice, tidy pile of leggings and corduroys and flannel patterned shirts on top of her own bed.
"Do you mind if I clear out a spot in the top drawer, too?" Melanie says, looking up at her, elbows deep in her bright pink suitcase. "You had some little snacks in there, so I wanted to ask you first."
"Well, gee, thanks," Sam says, examining the carefully folded pile on her bed. It's even colour coordinated. This is ridiculous. "Knock yourself out."
Melanie beams. "Thanks!"
She flounces over to the dresser and yanks out the drawer, and carefully dumps all 90-odd remaining Fat Cakes into a hamper that was, supposedly, for laundry, but currently held a pile of last year's school books and a couple DVDs Sam had borrowed and never gotten around to watching. She shakes the remaining crumbs into the trash, and neatly slides the drawer back into the dresser.
Sam watches her sister fill the drawer with frilly pajamas and bras and folded underwear, and notes that all her personal hygiene products are not included. This meant that Melanie had probably realized that it was a bad idea to leave shampoo bottles out where Sam could fill them with hair dye and mayonnaise, and other such loving improvements. Apparently, her fancy school had made her smarter.
But there's still one thing bugging her.
"Why do you tell her she looks good in those things?" Sam demands. "She's just going to wear it all the time."
Melanie looks over at her, puzzled. "People just need a little joy in their life. If that's what makes her happy, it doesn't hurt to lie a little."
"So you thought it was ugly, too," Sam says.
"I liked the flowers," Melanie clarifies primly.
-
Somehow, Sam gets roped into doing things with both Carly and Melanie. Like, going to see chick movies at the multiplex. On one hand, it's something to do, and she gets to hang out with Carly. On the other hand, she's stuck carting Melanie around, or just having to listen to her.
"I just love all those romantic movies," Melanie says dreamily. "The Last Night Of Our First Kiss was fantastic. It made me think of my first kiss all over again."
"For a teen chick movie, it wasn't that bad," Carly agrees. "I hear the sequel's coming out next summer."
"Really?" Melanie squeals. "Oh, I can't wait."
Sam makes a puking noise into her double-large Ice Slush, very quietly, but somehow Melanie hears her.
"Oh, Sam," she says, shaking her head in disappointment. "You just don't have a single romantic bone in your body, do you?"
Carly makes a noise that may or may not sound like 'fruit salad.' Sam glares at her, and loudly slurps on the slushie.
"I do too," Sam says. "I'm just not sappy about it like you and all the other teen chicks out there."
"Which is why you tell people your Cuttlefish concert story," Melanie says.
"I do not—"
"But you never mention it was just our dog. Or that you were nine."
Carly cracks up. "Really? That's what it was about?"
"Whatever!" Sam growls, stalking out.
She's sick of hearing about first kisses, and sick of stupid Melanie bringing them up. She knows that she's had a first kiss, and it was real, and kind of nice, and most importantly it was done and over with. If she doesn't want to talk about it, that's just fine.
She throws her double-large Ice Slush in the dumpster outside the multiplex as hard as she can, nailing the sleeping hobo inside right on the head.
-
Apparently, the Groovy Smoothie hadn't been considered an appropriate hangout the last time Melanie'd bothered to come home, because she's unreasonably impressed by its garish colours and even manages to distract T-Bo enough that he doesn't try to sell them any more skewered bagels or pickles or whatever he's hawking today. Sam figures she'll probably have gone there again today.
Sam skids in through the door just after Carly and Melanie take their seats, in the process of catching up on everything Melanie's missed recently. She manages to hear "And then this crazy girl bought our website-" before she interrupts.
"Sam! I thought you were in detention," Carly says, surprised, but because it's Carly, she also sounds happy and looks a little bit resigned all at the same time.
"Yeah, well, you know," Sam says, and shrugs. They order their smoothies and relax a bit, and then the inevitable happens. Today's topic: the Perfect Student, with guest speaker Perfect Melanie Puckett.
"You know, Sam, you need to start thinking about your GPA," Melanie says, taking a dainty sip of her smoothie. "And you should start taking your record seriously. These days, a lot of schools are actually requesting it along with your transcripts."
"Whatever," Sam says, sucking down her smoothie like it's the only thing keeping her alive. Detention always leaves her feeling bone-dry.
"Sam, Melanie's right," Carly says, concernedly. "What are you going to do about your record if it has things like 'Skipped Detention' in it?"
Sam shrugs. "I'll let you work something out?"
"Carly can't help you all the time, Sam," Melanie says, frowning slightly. "You're going to have to start taking responsibility for your own actions."
Hearing Melanie harp on about college is so annoying. It's almost as bad the reminders she sends her about using those cutesy little girly planners she gets for her birthday and Christmas every year.
"Look, I've got three more years before I have to worry about any of that," Sam snaps. Just because Melanie only has two years to go doesn't mean anything.
"Don't worry," Carly says reassuringly. "I'll keep her on track."
Sam knows this means that Carly really hasn't thought about it much either, and grins. Melanie thinks this sounds reassuring, dropping the issue, and heads to the bathroom to "freshen up".
-
Today, Sam's room smells a little like incense and a little like air freshener. Of course, Melanie's there, trying on clothes in front of the mirror, and there's some bubbly pop song playing over the crackly radio in the corner. It's like Sam doesn't even live there anymore.
Melanie's wearing a checkered miniskirt, a black sweater top, fishnets, and a pair of high heels that are way, way too tall.
"Whoa, there," Sam says. "What's the occasion? Is your trucker boyfriend taking you home tonight?"
Melanie's reflection looks glum as she turns and examines herself sideways in the mirror. "Does it really look that bad?"
"Yes," Sam says frankly, crossing the room. She digs around in the laundry hamper until she finds a Fat Cake, and eats half of it in one bite. "Nice tights, though."
Melanie is already rummaging in the closet again, pulling out a silky red dress, and changes into that. It's the same one she got at the mall the other day and wouldn't stop talking about, frilly collar and all. She digs through the closet, and finds a pair of leather boots that their mom's motorcycling boyfriend had given Sam in an initial attempt to bond. (He also included a two-pack sheet of temporary skull-and-crossbones tattoos. Sam had kept those, and used them once or twice. Her mom broke up with the guy soon after that.) Melanie squeals in excitement, holding the boots up as if they were the best things ever.
"Mind if I borrow these?" she asks, already putting the boots on.
"Yes," Sam says, mouth now full of ham sandwich. She'd found an extra one left over from lunch in her backpack.
Melanie digs through her purse and pulls out some red lipstick, and applies it quickly. Apparently that's where she's been hiding her makeup.
She turns to Sam, beaming, and twirls around. "Well? What do you think?"
"Nice, I guess," Sam says. She really, really doesn't care.
"Pearls!" Melanie exclaims, clapping her hands together. "That's what it's missing."
Sam's already eaten another two Fat Cakes by the time Melanie's done primping. Suddenly, her annoying and overly peppy sister dives onto her bed, and is shaking her out of her content, food-induced, napping state of existence.
"Sam, I need your opinion," Melanie says eagerly, bouncing up and done. "I have a date with Freddie on Saturday, and—"
Sam's stomach flips, a little bit like how she feels when she has to throw up, and she immediately drops the Fat Cake she'd reached for, all thoughts of sugary goodness out of her head.
"Freddie? Freddie Benson?" Sam repeats.
"Yes," Melanie says, frowning slightly. "He's a little confused about us, though, I think. Did you tell him I'm your twin?"
"Yeah," Sam chokes out, torn between laughing and wanting to text him and make fun of him for being an idiot, because there's no other explanation for him wanting to go out with her practically identical and obnoxious twin sister. "But, seriously, you're going out with Freddie? Why?"
"He asked me!" Melanie says proudly. "And he's really cute."
Sam shakes her head. "You brave soul," she says, deadpan. "I'm hope you know what you're getting yourself into. Just stay away from his mother."
Actually, on second thought, Melanie is exactly the type of girl Mrs. Benson would love at first sight: pretty, neat, polite, studious. Not like Sam. Or Carly, who tended to do things like play jokes on her gullible son because Sam made her, and not date him. Etcetera.
-
Melanie comes home early, and drags Sam out of the kitchen and upstairs so that they can talk. This all happens in about one minute and thirty seconds. Sam barely has time to wolf down the last of the turkey before she's sitting in her room, Melanie clearly ready to have a long, boring conversation. It probably has something to do with her date.
"Oh, Sam, it's the strangest thing!" she says, pouting. Melanie looks perfect, her hair up, her dress neat, lipstick and gloss still just as bright and shiny as it was when she'd first applied it. "He brought back empty glasses instead of drinks, he wouldn't dance, and he ran away right in the middle."
Sam flops onto her bed and digs her PearPod out of her backpack. "What a gentleman."
"I think I'd have enjoyed that date a lot more if he didn't think I was you," Melanie says, critically examining her reflection in the mirror. "He just never stopped talking about you."
"Okay," Sam says, headphones on, foot tapping to the beat. She turns the volume up, hoping Melanie will get the hint and leave.
She doesn't. "I thought you said he liked Carly."
"Loves," Sam corrects, despite herself. The music's shuffled to a softer song, so she can't pretend to not hear what's going on.
Melanie frowns. "He only mentioned Carly once, and that was because she'd told him you hated stripes. I suppose he wore them on purpose, then."
"Sounds like him," Sam says, mentally kicking herself for responding yet again. Why, oh why was she encouraging this conversation? "He's the type of person who'd be dumb enough to purposely wear what I hate on a date with me."
"I don't think I'd like being you," Melanie says, absentmindedly rubbing a spot on her arm, and wincing when it hurts. "You two must be awfully rough with each other."
Sam laughs. "What, did the nub knock into you, too?"
"He pushed me!" Melanie protests. Sam is distinctly unimpressed. The idea that Freddie could work up enough courage to even try and push her around is beyond ridiculous.
She switches her PearPod to a different playlist, one that's a lot louder and crazier.
-
A few days go by. Freddie avoids her like the plague every time he sees her alone in the halls. It's no big loss.
Melanie goes shopping with their mother and somehow persuades her to buy a tankini with orange and fuchsia hibiscus print instead of another bikini. It even has a little frilly skirt.
-
Sam comes back to her locker after detention to grab a snack before she heads home. Carly warned her that Spencer's been experimenting with health food recently, so she's not expecting to find much there. She still has a hot pocket or two in her locker.
Surprisingly, Freddie's waiting for her. Actually, it's more like he's pacing in front of her locker and muttering to himself.
"What up, dork?" Sam says. He stops, startled, and looks up at her like a deer caught in headlights.
"Um. Nothing," he says. "How was detention?"
Sam shrugs. "Terrible as usual. Mrs. Briggs keeps wailing about her breakup."
"That's nice," Freddie offers.
"And then the Easter Bunny came and gave us candy," Sam says, because Freddie is clearly Not Listening.
"Look, I know what you said," Freddie says suddenly, biting his lip.
Sam frowns. "What'd I say now?"
But the dork still isn't listening, and just plows on ahead. "And you know, I thought I liked being right. But I don't think I was. And then I realized that you could still be lying, and I could be totally, totally wrong. And you're probably going to hate me forever."
Freddie closes his eyes, screws up his face, and leans in quickly. Sam barely has time to react before he's kissing her, in public, oh, god. His hands are on her waist, and it's a little different than the last time, because this time feels rushed and she's looking right at his panicked face and can't help kiss back a little, because it's still kind of nice, but then she snaps to her senses and shoves him away about the same time he lets go of her waist.
"You--you--" she sputters, pointing furiously. "Never again."
Freddie's staring at her like she's grown two heads and he tried to eat one for breakfast. "I didn't kiss you."
Sam stares back at him, then takes a threatening step forwards, reaching out to grab him by his stupid striped polo. "Then what do you call this—"
"At the club, that time," Freddie says, face rapidly paling. "When I thought you kissed me. It really wasn't you. It really was Melanie."
Sam falls back a step. "That's what this was?" she says, in disbelief. "This was all about stupid Melanie?"
But Freddie's already gone, disappeared down the hallway and out the door.
-
Sam comes home angry, and wants nothing more than to pick a fight with someone. She's angry that Freddie kissed her, and angry that she kissed back, and angry that it was all because of Melanie.
She storms up to her room. Melanie's sitting cross-legged on the bed, and she's watching iCarly videos on her laptop. She looks up and smiles. Sam still looks thunderous. Melanie's smile slips.
"What's wrong, Sam?" she asks, looking concerned.
"Freddie kissed me," Sam snaps out, rummaging through the hamper for another Fat Cake. She doesn't want to talk about it. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Oh," Melanie says, eyebrows raised. She shuts down her laptop. "Why are you so upset, anyway?" she asks curiously. "Didn't you two already kiss?"
Sam whirls around. "Where did you hear that?"
"Um, Freddie," Melanie says hesitantly. "After I kissed him, when he thought I was you, he said something about you having said it would never happen again, and then he wouldn't tell me any more."
"I'm going to kill him," Sam declares, mouth full of sugar. It isn't fulfilling at all. "We agreed we weren't going to talk about it-"
She shuts up. Melanie already knows way too much. Sam can tell that she's slipping into full-on girl mode, ready to ask all sorts of questions, like why they kissed, and how it was, and did she like Freddie, and did she have butterflies, and Sam's in no mood to deal with that now.
"So why did he kiss you now?" Melanie asks.
"It's all your fault!" Sam retorts peevishly. She really, really wants to punch something. "You're always just too perfect, aren't you?" she shouts, feeling the last of her self control slip away.
"What are you talking about, Sam?" Melanie says, paling. Her purple shirt matches her purple bedspread and her purple glitter nails and she doesn't look messy or uncoordinated at all.
Sam's shoelaces are two different colours and she's wearing three different patterns and boy's shorts and her hair feels frizzy and gross. She likes her clothes, she doesn't usually care what her hair looks like, and she likes to be comfortable, but Melanie always makes her feel sloppy.
"You make me sick," Sam tells her. "You and your perfect hair, and your perfect nails, and your perfect grades. Everything."
Melanie looks confused. "What?"
"You recycle," Sam continues hotly, "and you brush your teeth twice a day. Carly doesn't even do that! She chews gum, like a normal person!"
"But the dentist said—" Melanie protests.
Sam doesn't care about the dentist. "No one thinks you're going to end up in jail before you're eighteen. Everyone thinks you're just all sweetness and light. And even when I try, I still can't be anything like you."
"Stop it, Sam!" Melanie says, close to tears. "You don't have any idea what you're saying."
"I know exactly what I'm saying," Sam says frostily.
"No, you don't!" and then Melanie's crying perfect movie-tears with unperfect snot threatening to come out of her nose. "Do you know what I'd give to be able to eat as much as you and have nothing happen? You don't do any exercise, you eat whatever you want, and never gain a single ounce or break out or anything. Do you know how unfair that is?"
"It's just my metabolism!" Sam snaps, suddenly feeling guilty, and pushes her guilty feelings as far out of mind as she can.
"A-a-and you're so talented, and you have your own webshow," Melanie says tearfully, and there, the snot finally does start dripping out of her nose. "Even though you're mean, you're really funny, and you can make people laugh. I start shaking when I have to give a speech in class, and you can be in front of thousands of people with no problem."
"I'm not acting in front of thousands of people, I'm just doing the show with Carly," Sam says, scowling. She throws a tissue box at Melanie, who manages to catch it before it hits her face.
"And you have such a great guy right in front of you, and you don't notice him at all!" Melanie wails, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
"So now this is about Freddie?" Sam says incredulously.
"H-he only ever talks about you," Melanie sniffs. "And you're always so focused on him, but you treat him terribly. He says you hate him, but you can't, or else you wouldn't have gotten so upset about all this!"
Sam can't believe it. This conversation, this fight, is so beyond unreasonable it's not even funny, and she's sorry she started it. "The kid slept in footie pajamas until he was 14!"
"And you still sleep with your stuffed Boogie Bear!" Melanie shoots back, then covers her mouth as if it was something especially terrible she never meant to let escape, eyes wide.
Sam cocks her head to the side. "Did you just say something mean?"
Melanie blows her nose resolutely. "You're selfish, Sam Puckett, and it has to be said. I'm sorry. But it's true."
She goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. Sam can hear the water running, and the occasional sound of Melanie blowing her nose.
Sam throws herself onto her bed and covers her head with her pillow, and screams, right into her mattress.
-
The next morning, Melanie's back to being nice to her, as always. She doesn't seem upset about their fight, or about Freddie, or about the fact that Sam put mayonnaise in her purse.
She watches Melanie do her hair, peering at herself in the mirror. Sam can't figure it out. Nothing about this week makes sense.
"I don't get it," Sam bursts out, hands clenched. "How can you act this nice?"
Melanie tilts her head, her ponytail bouncing to the side. "What do you mean?"
"Look, Freddie was a jerk to you," Sam says. "He treated you like he treats me. And we're not nice to each other."
Melanie looks wistful. "Sometimes, people just need a little joy in their lives."
"So what, you thought letting Freddie believe you were me would bring him joy?" Sam says. She can't quite believe it. The whole thing sounds dumb.
Melanie scrunches up her face. "No," she says. "That's silly. I meant that I wanted a little joy in my life." She laughs, even though it wasn't funny, and her laughter doesn't sound that nice. "It was a little bit selfish, I guess."
"And a cute guy liking you would make you happy?" Sam questions, stumbling over the words. She'd never had to describe Freddie as cute before. It's awkward. "Even though he was a nub."
"Yes," Melanie says, sounding surprised. "Nobody's perfect."
Sam can think of a whole host of guys who were cute but turned out to be nubs, but none of them were worth being nice to later on.
Suddenly, she has an idea. It's one of those ideas that could get her good karma, and a nagging feeling of having done the right thing and how she should do the right thing more often.
"Why don't we go for a walk," Sam suggests, smiling with all her teeth.
"Um, okay," Melanie agrees, seemingly confused. But she goes.
-
Sam drags her sister all the way to Bushwell Plaza. They don't take the elevator to Carly's. Instead, Sam stops just across the hall and rings the doorbell. Melanie starts to ask what they're doing, but Sam jabs her in the side with her elbow, and she stops talking.
Freddie opens the door, and his jaw drops.
"Yo, dork," Sam says.
"Hi Freddie," Melanie says, smiling cutely.
"Hello, Sam," Freddie says, sounding a bit dazed. He gulps, audibly, before turning to her sister. "Melanie."
Sam claps her hands together. "Well, now that we've introduced ourselves, I've got places to go. Later." She's done her good deed for the day, or week, or whatever. She turns and walks around the corner, but something keeps her from actually leaving.
Melanie and Freddie don't seem to have noticed that she left. Melanie's still smiling up at him, her hands clasped behind her, in full flirting mode. Freddie looks a little lost, but he exits his apartment and shuts the door behind him so his mother can't hear.
It's pathetic enough for a play. Sam decides that maybe they need to do another one about mistaken identity. She casually leans her back against the wall and eavesdrops.
Freddie sighs.
"Melanie, I owe you an apology," he says. "I was a jerk and I didn't believe you weren't Sam. I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Melanie says. "It was just bad timing."
"No, it's not okay," Freddie insists, and falters. "I mean. Even if you were Sam, I shouldn't have been that mean. And especially since you weren't."
Melanie laughs charmingly. "Don't worry! I'm Sam's sister, I know exactly how she is. You tried to cover your bases, and it just kind of fell through."
Sam snorts. She doesn't know anything about her, or else she'd lay off the stupid academic planners.
"How can I make it up to you?" Freddie says hesitantly. "Um, do you want to go on another date, for real this time?"
"I'm in boarding school, remember?" Melanie reminds him. "I'm not around here for very long. And as cute as you are, I'd rather not do long distance."
"I didn't really mean something that permanent, but-" Freddie says, and cuts himself off. Melanie is probably being adorable, and twirling her hair, or something distracting. Sam rolls her eyes.
"I'll settle for this," Melanie tells him.
Sam waits to hear what Freddie says next, but they're both being quiet. She peeks around the corner.
Melanie's kissing Freddie, and his eyes are closed, and he's actually kissing back. He's kissing someone with her face, and it isn't her, and that's weird, weird, weird, and maybe even kind of wrong. Sam's stomach is churning so much that she feels like throwing up, and it kind of hurts.
They break apart.
"See you around, Freddie," Melanie says. "You still have my number, right?"
"Your number?" Freddie repeats, still slightly dazed. "Oh. Yeah."
"Keep in touch!" Melanie says brightly, turning to leave.
"Hey, Melanie," Freddie calls. "I meant what I said the other night. You did look pretty hot."
Sam escapes down the back stairs and doesn't wait to hear Melanie's response.
-
Melanie goes back to school, and takes the black boots with her. She leaves the room smelling like incense. Frothy the cat eats the new tankini, and foams orange and pink for the next week.
Sam's mother comes home one day with new clothes. And of course, to replace the much-mourned tankini, there's a new bikini. This one is black with purple stripes and little yellow smiley faces. She makes Sam watch her model it.
"What do you think?" her mother asks, posing. She even bought a matching beach wrap, and strappy black flipflops. The bikini looks horrible, as usual, and the flipflops don't even show her foot tattoo, which would be the only advantage to her mother wearing flipflops, in Sam's opinion.
Sam takes a deep breath. "I like the stripes," she says, and goes to her room before she says anything else.
-
Sam's lounging on the couch at Carly's, watching TV. It's something about elephants. The most interesting part was watching them explain how much they had to eat a day. (Answer: A lot.)
Freddie comes in, sees her, doesn't see Carly, and turns to leave. Then he stops, shuts the door, and comes and sits next to her on the couch.
"So I'm an idiot," Freddie says, by way of greeting.
Sam doesn't take her eyes off the TV. "Yup."
"And you're probably always going to outsmart me, and I'm probably never going to stop being paranoid around you," Freddie says.
"Probably."
They watch elephants fight. It's kind of intense, and kind of boring at the same time, because you just have two big masses of grey and brown or whatever trumpeting at each other. The narrator seems pretty excited about it, though.
Freddie laughs, a quiet, strained, not-quite laugh. "You know, it's funny just how much I've given up for you. And I have no idea why I do it."
Sam frowns. Kissing Melanie must have made him go crazy, or something. He hasn't given anything up for her. She decides to turn it into a joke.
"One last thing," she intones, eyes still glued to the TV. She holds out her hand, palm up. "Your soul, please."
And then Freddie's holding her hand. She doesn't let him, but he does anyway.
-
-
Like a fantasy that you never find
Right in front of me all the time
And it makes me happy
-- Drake Bell, 'Makes Me Happy'
-
author's notes: longest oneshot ever, holy cow. I really liked Melanie, and I wanted to write something with her, and Freddie, and Sam, and then it exploded into a kajillion pieces like this, most of which ended up being written yesterday. reviews and concrit are always appreciated!