So not only does this mark my 20th fanfiction, but I've also recently had my one year anniversary of being a part of this site. This is pretty fitting, since my craving for some Seddie fics is what caused my to stumble upon this place in the first place. So I guess you could say it was iCarly that started it all, and I couldn't be more grateful.
Anyways, happy reading!
Disclaimer: Hello, people who own computers! I'm NinjaNovelist, this is my imaginary sidekick, and this is NOT iCarly! Ya know, 'cause I don't own it.
"So," Wendy began in a pitiful attempt at sounding upbeat. "Everyone having fun?"
There were a few murmurs of assent for the sake of being polite, but apart from that the silence remained as awkward as ever.
Various teens were scattered around Wendy's back patio, not trying very had to enjoy themselves at her pool party. She had invited almost half the school, but unfortunately had neglected to notice that her get-together intruded upon the biggest pep rally of the year. The final result was a handful of random kids who barely even knew each other.
Among this sad little group was the iCarly crew, who had sacrificed their seats at the rally to support their friend. Sam currently sat in the hot tub, determined not to let a drop of the tangy barbeque sauce from her rib fall into the foamy water. Carly lay tanning on a beach chair, while Freddie sat on the opposite side of the pool with his feet dipped in the water, eyes firmly refusing to stare at the brunette in her new swimsuit. The only one truly enjoying himself was Gibby, splashing about in the kiddie end of the pool while sporting a pair of water wings.
"Hey, why aren't the rest of you in here? The water's juuuuust right," the shirtless (surprise, surprise) boy asked as he floated onto his back and spewed a geyser of water like a whale.
"Because," Sam replied, words meshed together as she talked with a mouth full of her beloved meat. "No one wants to go in a pool contaminated by your Gibson filth."
"Sam," Carly admonished sternly. "What did your therapist say about saying hurtful things?"
"If you can't say anything mean, don't say anything nice, something along those lines," she muttered.
Freddie rolled his eyes. "We all know you ultimately won't do what he says, Sam, but you could at least have the decency to listen to what I have to say."
"Look, Freddison," Sam shot back. "I've gone to six different shrinks over the years, and they all say the exact same chiz. Why would I even bother?"
"Ahem," Gibby coughed impatiently. "Back to what I was saying. If we really wanna get this party going, how about we play a game? Sharks and Minnows, Freeze Tag... ooh, I know! Let's play Marco Polo!"
"Yes, let's!" Wendy cried as she hopped into the pool, eager to do anything to relieve her guests of their boredom. One by one, people reluctantly began adding themselves to their numbers.
"Ugh, you mean I gotta walk all the way over there?" Sam complained.
Freddie gave her a look, one that told her to quit messing around and just play around. She received that look quite a lot from him.
"What, that actually takes effort!" Nevertheless, she placed her polished bone aside and joined the ranks.
"So who wants to be 'it'?" Wendy asked.
Silence once again ensued, and the redhead looked hopefully about for a victim, one she would have the most ease in coercing to do what she wished.
"How about you, Freddie?" she asked sweetly.
The aforementioned nerd immediately began shifting nervously on his feet. "I dunno..."
"Hey, does anyone have a extra suit?" Gibby asked. "Mine's starting to slip-"
"Okay, let's get started!" Freddie cried out, no longer hesitating to shut his eyes and plunge his head into the water.
After counting to ten, the dork reemerged and began the game. "Marco."
"Polo," came the group response.
Freddie reached lazily out in front of him, and as expected came up with nothing. What fun. "Marco."
"Polo."
"Hey, I get why they call it that now!" the familiar sound of a certain socially awkward boy declared. "'Cause that explorer guy, didn't he get lost or someth-"
"Just shut up and play the stupid game."
You can probably guess who said that.
Then he heard it. That angelic voice, as soft and sweet as the tinkling of chimes, that could only be Carly's giggle.
Suddenly gaining an interest in what he was doing, Freddie stealthily crept in the direction he had heard it coming from. "Marco."
The entire group probably said it, but the only one he heard was the one of the girl he loved.
He leaped forward with a new found energy, arms thrashing wildly to grab her, but he came up only with what he started. Nothing.
Game on.
He began calling out his half of the phrase frantically, desperately, and as the reply was made he would splash blindly past all others to chase down Carly. But each time he thought he was getting close, the next time she spoke he would discover that she had managed to slip even farther away.
Though his eyes were shut, he could just feel the sneering gazes of those around him, daring him to keep on chasing after his crush. They were so confident that he would never succeed, and whenever he heard that beautiful, taunting laugh just barely out of reach, he began to believe in them a little bit more.
She was so close and yet so far away, but Freddie had made up his mind that he would get her, if only this once.
"Marco!"
"Polo!"
He heard it again, and his nerdy brain deduced that she couldn't be more than three feet away.
"Marco!"
"Polo!"
It was closer now. This was it. She was his.
"Marc- OW!"
Hot pain rushed into his foot and arced up his entire leg, the shock of it all forcing his eyes open. It turned out that he had jammed it into the railing of the pool stairs.
"Hey, that's against the rules!" Gibby cried. "Looks like we've got a cheetah in the Arctic."
Wendy chose to ignore Gibby's senseless comment. "Freddie, are you okay?"
Said dork sat himself on the steps and rubbed his injured foot. "I'm alright. Just stubbed my toe."
"Oh Freddie, I'm so sorry."
His heart couldn't help but constrict a little as he found the source of the voice. Carly was perched on the edge of the pool, once again unattainable.
"Don't be, it wasn't your fault," he answered as he tried flexing his toes. Nothing seemed to be broken, which he found rather fitting. You can't be broken by someone whom you never had in the first place, and who never had you. "But do you mind if someone else takes over? I'm done with this game."
It was really a shame, though. For had he merely reached out beside him, he would have found a certain blonde tomboy who had been sitting there, waiting for him all along.