Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly, nor the novel, One Day . Both belong to Dan Schneider and David Nicholls, respectively.

June 21, 2005

Bushwell Plaza smells like soup; from the lobby to the elevator, even our own apartment smells like broth.

And I don't mean that in a good way, like when you come home from the freezing cold and the smell of mom's homemade soup warms your insides before you even take the first delicious sip. No, not that.

Bushwell Plaza smells like gross, salty soup. Like, when you're visiting Grandma and she makes that disgusting split pea soup and uses words like "hearty" and "nutritious." I can practically taste the air and it makes me sick to my stomach. Bleh. I already hate it here.

Mom moved us here because of a job offer she got at a local hospital here in Seattle. It all happened so quickly: first, the clinic she was working at closed down, then a week later she was called about a job at St. Frances Hospital, then three days after that we were checking out different places to live here in Washington! I hadn't even fully processed the fact that my old life was coming to an end before I was dragged to another city four hours away to start preparing for my new one. She ended up choosing Bushwell because of their "no pets" policy, and she was less worried about me getting sick from "filthy beast germs" here than any of the other places we had looked at.

Leave it to my mom to find the most boring place in the city to live; not that Eugene, Oregon was the coolest place on the planet, but I had friends there. There were tons of kids in my old neighborhood and my school was so much fun. I haven't seen any other kids at Bushwell yet. All I've seen are old people and a crabby doorman with a sickeningly large mole on his face. Plus, this whole "no pets" thing made me miss all of the neighbor's dogs that I used to play with.

So, just to compare…

Eugene: friends, a cool school, and puppies galore.

Seattle: A large hairy mole, a strong soupy smell, and the elderly.

Man, this place really sucks.

I was so caught up in my dislike of the place that I hadn't even heard my mom calling me from the kitchen.

"Fredward!" she cries desperately, effectively snapping me out of my sulking.

"Yes, mom?" I respond, trying not to sound too down.

She walks towards me, holding out a big box full of scrap newspaper and crumpled masking tape and a tied plastic bag filled with additional trash balanced on top. She set the box and bag down on the couch. "I need you to take that trash to the dumpster and I need to you to put this," she continued as she pulled out a stamped envelope from her back pocket, "into the mail drop box outside of the entrance. Then come straight back so I can rub your hands with antibacterial gel."

"Yes, mom," I agreed, unable to keep the reluctance out of my voice. Before I can grab the box, she puts a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, sweetheart," she says tenderly, "I know this is all very new, but I promise that, in time, you'll fall in love with Seattle."

I shrug. "We'll see."

"Will you promise to at least try?" she pleads with a small smile. It wasn't very often that my mom actually asked anything of me; her wants usually came in the form of aggressive commands followed by threats of an impending tick bath. When she's actually being reasonable, it's hard to argue with her.

I smile. "Alright, mom. I promise to try."

Satisfied, she comes forward and pinches both of my cheeks firmly. "That's my good boy. Now hurry along and take out the trash."

I grab the large box and the bag and head for the door. Mom calls after me before I reach the knob. "Freddie! Don't forget the mail!" Since my hands are full, she slips the envelope in my back pocket. "And come straight back! Oh, and no talking to strangers!"

"Yes, mom. I'll be right back!"

I crane my neck so that I can see around the box. Mom opens the door wide so that I can exit into the hallway. I'm trying to walk as carefully as I can, since my vision is kind of limited. Luckily, the elevator is just around the corner, so I make it there and manage to get in and press the lobby button with only a little bit of difficulty.

Great. The soup smell is getting stronger. I can't be the only one who's bothered by it.

I hear the elevator ding, as well as the doors slide open. Craning my neck around the box once again, I carefully exit the elevator into the lobby. I can feel the box slip out of my grip just a little bit, so I hoist it up in an attempt to get a firmer hold. The doorman is yelling something about his "perfect floor," but I can barely understand it. I keep going until I hear a girl's voice from behind me.

"Hey, you!"

I turn around to find a girl with dark hair standing there, smiling and holding the envelope that was once in my back pocket. She looks like she could be my age, though she also looks to be an inch taller than me. Another thing I notice about her is how pretty she is. I've never seen a girl as pretty as her before. I mean, there were a few pretty girls in my school, but not this pretty.

"You dropped this," she points out, thrusting the envelope in my direction. Then she notices that my hands are full. "Oh! Sorry, I guess your hands are a little full."

"Uh, y-yeah, a little," I mumble. Ugh, I sound like such a dork. I readjust the box, which causes the bag on top of the box to fall on the floor. Great, now I sound like a moron and look like a clumsy mess in front of this really pretty girl.

She giggles, to my dismay and my delight, because I don't want to look like an idiot in front of her, but she has a really cute laugh. I can't resist chuckling along.

"Need some help?" she asks, grabbing the fallen bag before I even have the chance to respond. As she comes closer, my nose is filled with an amazing smell that I can't fully recognize. It's like a mixture of coconut and something else…strawberries, maybe? Whatever it is, it smells amazing and it totally overpowers the soup smell. I'm momentarily hypnotized by her scent as she looks at me expectantly. I shake off the trance I'm in and eventually answer her.

"Oh! Uh, sure! Yeah, I could use some help. Thanks a lot!" I really hope I don't sound too eager.

Luckily, she just smiles back as we both head out the front door. "Cool. So, I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new?"

"Yup. My mom moved us from Oregon. We just got here this morning. I'm Freddie, by the way. Freddie Benson."

"Hi, Freddie. I'm Carly Shay. It's nice to see another kid around here! There aren't too many our age. You're eleven, too, right?"

I nod my head enthusiastically. We pass the mailbox, which I nod at. She drops the envelope in the box and leads the way to the side of the building where the dumpster is. Since the dumpster is kind of tall, we set the box and the bag at the corner of the drop-off and make our way back to the building.

"Thanks for your help, Carly," I say.

"No problem," she replies. "So, which apartment did you move into?"

"8-D," I answer, hoping that my new apartment is somewhat close to hers.

"No way!" she exclaims, her smile lighting up her face. "You're right across the hall from me!"

Awesome. Awesome, awesome, awesome!

"Wow, that's pretty, um, awesome!" I say lamely as I mentally kick myself for sounding so stupid. We enter the lobby (which is missing a grumpy, mole-having doorman, thank God!) and head for the elevator.

"Lewbert must have went on his break," Carly observes, pointing at the front desk.

"His name is Lewbert? No wonder he's so cranky," I joke. She laughs and her eyes kind of sparkle. That's when I notice that she had the same color eyes as me. I've never really liked my brown eyes, but hers look…perfect.

We both lunge for the "up" button and end up pressing it at the same time, fingers bumping together. The contact makes my stomach flip and I'm sure that I'm blushing like a fool. She just smiles.

"Whoops," she shrugs as the elevator doors open and she walks inside. I follow dumbly, feeling led by the smell of coconut and berries. We ride up to the 8th floor in silence and I wish that I can come up with something cool to say. Unfortunately, we arrive at our floor before I can come up with anything.

"See ya around, Freddie!" she waves cheerfully before skipping off.

"See ya around, Carly!" I echo just before she enters her apartment. Her scent remains behind, and it somehow stays with me well after she's gone. I notice that I no longer smell soup. All I smell is Carly Shay, the pretty girl who now lives right across the hall.

Home sweet home.

A/N: I know I said I was taking a break, but I think I've developed quite an addiction to writing. :o)

This fic is based on the novel One Day by David Nicholls. For those of you who haven't read it, the novel follows the evolving relationship between two friends, Emma and Dexter, over the coarse of twenty years. Each chapter of the book is like a snapshot of their friendship that is taken on the same day each year: July 15th. It's a hilarious, truly endearing read and one of my favorite books. I highly recommend it.

I thought it would be fun to do the same for Carly and Freddie in a series of drabbles and ficlets (probably more ficlets than drabbles, since I'm awful at keeping things short). I'm not positive that this story will follow them for quite as long, but you never know. I chose the date June 21st, which is my fiance's birthday. This story is dedicated to him. :o)

I hope you guys enjoy this story! Please review, if you have a moment!

Hollaatchyagirl,

Phunky

P.S.- I just have to say one quick thing to the Creddie-centric writers. I have now come across two AMAZING stories that have been abruptly abandoned by authors who have "given up" due to the events of the most recent episode of iCarly. Please, please, PLEASE don't let one episode discourage you from sharing your perception of true love or stifle your creativity. It's not that serious. Trust me.

Okay, I'm hopping off my soapbox now. You all are wonderful and have a great night!