A/N: Thanks for the support on my last story! This one will be longer. While this is mostly Seddie centered, at the moment Sam and Freddie may or may not get together by the end of this story. I feel that the build-up to Seddie is much more exciting than when Seddie actually happens. For that, we can let Dan Schnieder decide how it is going to happen. However, for now let's just let our imaginations fill what's in between ;) I hope you enjoy it. We'll see how the story falls as I continue to write =)

"Ah, Sam!" I really didn't understand why I was always the one put in the worst situations. For example, on Sam's 16th birthday, I'm the one who's holding her hair as she pukes into my personal bathroom toilet. And it'll be me who'll have to clean it up. Not Carly, not Sam herself, but me. But of course, these are the situations I get myself into.

"I feel like I'm dying."

"Don't talk. Just get it out." Sam wiped her mouth with her sleeve and leaned against the wall, her eyes glazed and exhausted, looking at me.

"I think I'm done." I sighed a breath of relief and took out the Clorox. This had been going on for about an hour now. I tried to clean the bathroom as best as I could, scrubbing every scent off so that my nut of a mother wouldn't accuse me of anything when she got home. Once again, she had an APA (Aggressive Parents Anonymous) retreat and boy was I happy she did. The "guardian" she chose to look over me was eighty-five and was passed out on the couch. She didn't even notice Sam come in.

I sat on the floor next to Sam, who really did look like she was dying. She looked at me with her bloodshot eyes and sighed, tears coming down her face. "Don't tell Carly." I nodded.

"I won't." there was silence, until that silence was interrupted when Sam slapped me in the face… hard. I turned to face Sam, who was laughing and crying at the same time. Leave it to Sam to find humor out of the worst situations by slapping me.

"I feel sick, Freddo."

"Well, that's what you get for drinking." Sam laughed harder and grabbed my ear. I tried to scoot away. She was getting really freaky.

"You're such a—such a—I don't know." She became serious again. I didn't really know how to handle it since this was honestly my first encounter with a drunk person. I always thought drunk Sam and sober Sam would be pretty much the same.

"I'm really, really sick though. When I'm sick, Carly makes me soup."

"Well I'm not Carly."

"No… but you love Carly and Carly loves me… so make me soup." I took a sideways glance at Sam again. She was sweating like a bulldog and smiling at me—and crying at the same time. This was the weirdest experience I ever had with Sam, and that's saying a lot.

"No, Sam. Soup will make you even worse. Trust me." I couldn't stand to see Sam's sweaty face anymore, so I got up and wet a washcloth with cold water. I threw it over her head and figured it was the least I could do. She yanked the washcloth off of her and whipped my face with it, glaring at me. I rubbed my cheek and groaned.

"Sam, I've helped you enough, haven't I?"

"No. I don't know if I could get up. Help me up."

"Sam--!"

"Help me up!" Again, I groaned but I helped Sam up. She couldn't really support her own weight, so I basically had to carry her and dropped her on my bed.

As soon as she hit the bed, she threw my bed sheets over her head. No way in hell was I letting her sleep in my bed!

"Oh, no, Sam! Get up!" I tried to roll her a bit, but she just slapped me a bunch of times. I gave up after a minute, so I went through my closet, pulled out my Galaxy Wars sleeping bag, and laid down on the floor next to my bed. First Sam ruins my bathroom, then she ruins my bed just by being in it. Then again, Sam ruined her own birthday, too. Being friends with someone like Sam meant either taking her for who she is or leaving her and never looking back. Although most of the time I want to look the other way, I can't. Because even though I hate her and she hates me and all that stuff, I know she'll always be Sam. I wish I was that sure of a lot of things in life.