Hola gente! For those of you who don't know that means hello people! Thank you to all the people who reviewed/favorite/alerted this story. It made me feel special.

I'm going to switch to Sam's perspective for this chapter. I'll get back to Freddie in chapter 3. I think I'm mostly just going to switch back and forth between Freddie and Sam, but there might be a couple other perspectives thrown in here and there. Not sure yet. Let me know what you think!

Now, on with the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly. And since you are reading this, I guessing you don't either, so there.

Sam's POV

That nub. That stupid, annoying little nub. He had the nerve to think he was better than me; that Carly shouldn't be my friend; that my hating him was all my fault and he was just as innocent as a lamb. Well I had the right to hate him. It was his fault I was stuck living with a drunken excuse for a mother who didn't even care what happened to me.

I needed ham. And I needed it immediately. I didn't even make it all the way home, I just stopped when I came to Bushwell Plaza, parked my car in the first available parking spot I saw, and went inside where I ran to the elevator, ignoring Lewbert's screams about people running in his lobby.

When I got to the 8th floor I immediately headed to apartment 8C. Luckily, no dweebs from across the hall had showed up. I went into the Shay's apartment without knocking and started rummaging through the fridge.

"Well just come on in and help yourself to my food," came a sarcastic voice from the couch.

"Carly, where's your ham!"

"We ran out. There's some chili in there though, if you want that."

I found the Tupperware container of chili behind some sort of green goo in a bowl. I grabbed a spoon and started digging into the spicy stew, not even bothering to use a bowl or heat it up.

"Well that's attractive," giggled Carly, pointing to the brownish-red chili juice dribbling down my chin as I walked toward the couch to watch Girly Cow with her.

"Ah, cut the chiz Shay," I said, wiping my chin with my sleeve. "I'm not in the mood."

"I'm sorry," she said. "What's wrong?"

"That stupid dork. He thinks he's soooo great and soooo much better than me just because I pick on him sometimes."

"Sometimes? Sam, has there ever been a time when you weren't picking on him?"

"Well, no, but he's just so annoying! And he doesn't get why I hate him."

"Now Sam, we've talked about this. You know that's not his fault."

"Well he could at least act like he's sorry about it!"

"I think he still doesn't know. I'm sure if he knew he would understand."

"But I can't tell him. His mom doesn't want me to be the one to tell him just cause she thinks I might get mad again and start beating him up." Not that it wasn't entirely possible, but it still made me angry. "Will you tell him for me?" I begged, though I knew what the answer would be.

"You know I can't do that. I don't even know all the details. Besides it really isn't any of my business. This is between Freddie, his family, and your family."

I sighed. "Well I kind of said something about it by accident today when he made me mad. He didn't know what I was talking about though. Maybe he'll ask his nub of a mother and she'll finally tell him the truth."

"Sam, it's not nice to call people's mothers nubs." I was about to protest that it was okay when they were indeed nubs, when a tall, skinny man with brown hair ran into the living room carrying a flaming toilet plunger and screaming. Carly didn't ask her brother any questions, just got up and used one of their many fire extinguishers to put the fire out.

"Thanks," said Spencer, setting the plunger down and wiping the sweat from his brow. "That was a close one." I had to wonder how in the world he had set something like that on fire. Then again, this was Spencer. I figured it was probably best I didn't ask.

I had just finished my chili when there was a knock on the door and Carly got up from her seat to answer it.

"Go away Fredwardo," I said to the teenage boy that Carly let into her apartment. Ugh, I did not want to be around him right now. Just looking at him made me mad again.

"No! This isn't even your house, you can't make me leave."

"Oh yeah?" I got up from the couch and walked towards him, my fists clenched tight. "Wanna bet Dorkface?"

"Sam, no," said Carly with a warning look on her face. "Leave Freddie alone. He has as much of a right to be here as you do."

"Well if he's staying then I'm leaving," I said and walked out the door.

"Sam, wait!" I heard Carly call after me, but I didn't stop. I kept going, not really even paying attention to what I was doing in my angry daze, until I found myself back home in my room, the sound of my drunken mother and her current boyfriend coming from the room next to mine.

I tried to ignore it by focusing on the picture sitting on the desk next to my bed. It was a simple picture. There was a tall guy with curly hair the color of dirt and bright blue eyes smiling and hugging a young woman around the waist from behind. The women had straight blond hair and gray eyes, and she smirked as she held a baby with the same blue eyes as the man. Beside them was an older woman with graying hair, holding a baby that looked just like the first, only its clothes looked much cleaner and it didn't look like as much of a troublemaker. I picked up the photo and traced the lines of the man's face with my finger as I saw a single tear splash onto the glass of the frame.

Mom had told me about Dad when I was just 3 years old. I think she didn't even mean to tell me yet, but she was so drunk at the time she couldn't help it. 15 years later and the uncertainty still got to me. I think it would be a little better if I just knew whether or not he was dead. Of course, it was pretty unlikely that he had survived all these years, but I just couldn't shake this one glimmer of hope that he was still out there somewhere, and would come back someday to fix our broken family. It's not like there was anything I could do about it though. I guess that was the worst part: knowing that even if he was alive, I still couldn't do anything that would bring him back. I was helpless, and I hated it with all my heart.

Sorry if Sam seemed a little OOC at the end of this chapter. I'll try and get the next chapter up soon, if you guys want me to keep writing it.

Review por favor.

Hasta luego!