iMake Sam Girlier… Again!
A/N: This is my first fanfiction, and I hope you people like it. It's not really my best work, but I still like the idea. I hope you enjoy, and I don't own iCarly. I apologize beforehand if anything's out of character.
Carly's PoV
I woke up to Sam jumping onto my bed using that awesome trampoline. Let me tell you, that is almost as bad as waking up because you feel a slight stab in your side and finding a taco in your bed! Never agree to let your Mexican food loving best friend stay with you. Cue the shuddering.
Anyways, obviously, as soon as I realized that Sam had just leaped on top of me, I opened my eyes to yell out something. Then, I noticed something very odd. Sam's eyes were filled with agitation and even a little bit a fear.
Samantha Puckett afraid was something that was never seen. Even I, her best friend, rarely saw her scared, so I shut my mouth and gave her my full attention.
Unfortunately, she didn't talk, so I, of course, prompted her to spill.
"Sa-am. Why did you jump on me? In bed. At 3:00 am. In my apartment. How did you get in here anyways? I thought Spencer locked the door with the new chain instead of using the lock."
Sam answered my second question first: "Well, I guess he forgot to use the chain."
She seemed innocent. Too innocent. She was lying. I smiled slightly. I'd just let her get away with it… this time.
"And you're here because…?"
Sam bit her lip, then answered me slowly and carefully, "I… I need you to help," she took a deep breath, and the rest of her words came very quickly, "mebeadaffodilagain"
After the words were separated and absorbed in my head, my eyes widened slightly. Sam had another crush! I felt like squealing for joy and with shock, and squeal I did. Quite loudly, actually.
Sam winced slightly and rubbed her ears. Oops. I knew it was loud, but not that loud.
"Jeez, Carlotta, what was that about?"
"I can't believe it! You have another crush! Who is it?" I nearly shrieked. I did control myself, that time, though. In my defense, I was excited! I loved it whenever Sam and I could girl talk. And if she was going all girly, then this guy was probably a law-abiding citizen! Although, it might be best if he liked her for her….
Sadly, Sam didn't have a love of girl talks like me. She just clammed up and frowned.
I sighed and said, "You'll tell me someday. What do you want me to do?"
Sam smiled and replied with a simple, "Do your worst."
I scurried to my closet like a Pak-Rat after cheese with a happy grin. There, I collected my mini make-up kit (Sam should be grateful I didn't pull out the mega make-up kit. Or the monster make-up kit), some hair ties, and a bundle of clothes. Then, I practically sprinted to the bathroom to get my straightener, a basin, and bottles of shampoo and conditioner. Who knew when the last time Sam washed her hair was?
It took me a while to get the things, so I was a little worried that Sam might've rethought this and left. I was pretty happy and a bit amazed when I saw that she was still there.
As I dug through my drawers for some perfume and hairclips, I said, "You must really like this guy."
Sam jumped a bit. I guessed that she was busy looking at the pile on my bed with increasing horror.
"What makes you say that?"
"Well," I responded, "You're still here even after I've been piling this stuff in plain view."
I turned to look at her, and she just shrugged. She so liked this guy. It was just too cute!
I came back with several tiny bottles of perfume samples and glittery hair clips.
Dumping it all on the bed, I said, "I'm just going to experiment with the clothes for things like best color choices and skirt length and with the make-up and accessories. Then, we go shopping.
Sam groaned until I coaxed her with an entire food court meal and trip to Build-a-Bra on me. She always borrows money from me, but lately, she's been able to get some money from her mom to buy things.
"You're still going to have to pay for half of your new clothes, accessories, and make-up, though."
Sam immediately started groaning again, and I wished that I hadn't said that. Oh well, at least now she knows and won't accuse me of stuff. She'd make a pretty good lawyer. You know, if she actually abided the law. Or ate less ham. Or blamed Freddie less. Hey, maybe Freddie was... nah. I could see Sam with maybe a minor crush on everybody's favorite cuchy nerd, but this? Nuh uh.
Five hours and thirty-four different clothing, cosmetics, accessories, and hair care stores later, we ended up in the cafeteria with two super-sized sandwiches and a disgusted/traumatized Sam as I tried to teach her etiquette. Tried being, for once, not the operative word.
After another two hours, I'd taught her to eat with her mouth closed, how to take tinier bites, and how to eat only one super-sized sandwich per meal. I also taught her not to use her bra for a food storage compartment. All in all, a surprisingly successful day. I wonder who the lucky guy is to merit this. I'm bugging her about it later.
After we got back to the Bushwell (and I taught Sam not to chuck the two shopping bags full of clothes at Lewbert's whiney head), I got to work. I painted her fingernails magenta with yellow polka dots and washed her long, blonde hair. I plaited it into a loose braid so, hopefully, she'll have sweet waves instead of wild (if awesome) curls in the morning. I bet that her hair would be smelling strongly of artificial grape in the morning. I used a whole bottle of that shampoo!
I also put together an outfit of a loose, pale yellow blouse and pink skirt that just brushed her knees. I added a pair of fuzzy, light, tan boots and a heart shaped necklace (the same magenta as her nails). I also found a ponytail holder of mine that had cute little clusters of white and pink hearts. I was exhausted after it all.
Sadly, even after all of my effort, Sam wouldn't tell me who the guy was. I'll get it out of her, though, even if I have to strap her to my red, butt-muscle-working chair.