Runnaway.
Chapter 4: Goose, Goose, Gibby
The Groovy Smoothie is probably one of the most fun and exciting places, especially at lunch time. Today, a pair of old ladies are fighting over T-Bo's stick of bell peppers. No, I'm not kidding. They are going for it! I'm sitting here, fliming it with my pearphone video camera just to upload onto the iCarly website for later.
"Women, please!" T-Bo yells, being tossed from one side of the room to the other.
I just laugh. It's the first time in probably two days, that I've laughed this hard. In fact, I was almost crying, it was so hilarious. Maybe it's just because they remind me of when Carly and I used to have fights, like when we were younger.
We're more mature now. We don't fight physically.
Although sometimes, I wish we did.
"Hi Sam, nice pants," said a voice.
"Yo Gib," I say, automatically.
I know it's him, because no one else I know would be hanging around some old ladies at the Groovy Smoothie at tweve oh something in the afternoon. Yeah, he's a weird kid and kinda chubby. His jokes are lame and sometimes he wears ugly shirts that could have belonged to the 1950's. But Carly accepts him as a friend. So Freddoofus and I just go with it. It's too hard and too much effort to complain or argue. Especially with Carly, because she's so nice, sweet, perfect and accepting of everyone. At least he's kind of useful when it comes to "test subjects" for "experiments" we do on our webshow.
Our webshow, as Spencer has said once before, is weird.
"You seen Freddie anywhere?"
"Probably with Shay," I reply, with a shrug.
I really want to know what he's up to. And with whom he is doing "up to" with.
A small voice tells me I already know, but I ignore it and shake my head quickly.
Gibby takes a seat and points over to the old ladies, still in their 'bell pepper' fight. He's grinning like a maniac. But somehow I want to know what is going on in that brain of his. Knowing the guy, it could be either dangerous or stupid, or both. I'm down with that sort of chiz though. Anytime. Anyday. Anywhere.
As he talks about something Guppy or his mother said but I'm not paying attention.
That is until he stands up, and walks over to the two old ladies. As he approaches them it looked like a mouse walking into a den with two hungry lions. I turned on the video camera of my pearphone and just started recording. We needed some more comedy skits for anyways.
"Good afternoon," he says, cheerfully.
Gibby is generally a happy-go-lucky type of person. But the women glared at him, ready to pounce any second.
Five...
"What do you want, little fat boy?" One of the women asked.
Four...
"For you to stop this argument."
Three...
"You may want to top the garment, but mind your own beeswax, mister!" Shouted the other, probably deaf or something.
Two...
"Hey! There's no need to- OW!"
One, zero.
"Approach us with your scheming ideas, don't you, little man! We are ladies and ought to be respected!"
"Owww! Can you st- Ouch, that was my eye! Please, I didn't- Argh!"
The old ladies had picked up their handbags and just started whacking Gibby over the head, or anywhere else they could find. I was sitting, in the Groovy Smoothie, laughing my head off at two partly deaf and senile old women, hitting a younger boy, repetitvely. It was hilarious.
T-Bo tried to interfere or break it up, but only ended up getting hurt too. Which only made me laugh more.
About twenty minutes, or so it seemed, of the arguing, hitting and carrying on, the women gave up and left the store, arm-in-arm and the best of friends again. The old ladies were fine, and it was as if they'd never started the argument in the first place. The same could not be said for Gibby, who was laying on the ground, covering his head and curled up in a fetal position.
I walked over and nudged his ribs with my foot, carelessly.
"Get up, nub," I say.
"Are they g-gone?" Gibby asks, scrambling to his feet and looking around, quickly.
"You're safe."
Gibby wipes his forehead and exhales slowly and probably in relief too. Then his eyes widen and his mouth drops open in shock. I turn around to look at what his problem is, and I see Carly and Freddie.
Now, usually, that's not such a big deal for me. Because we hang out together all the time.
This is not usually.
My eyes trail over their crumpled clothes, messy hair and odd looking facial expressions.
Gibby shuffles his feet awkwardly while standing next to me. I just shake my head and roll my eyes at the whole thing. It's beyond my comprehension of course. But one little thing flashes through my mind. This one little thing was what Trisha Owens had said to me at the party last night.
I watch them walk back out of the Groovy Smoothie, in shame. My heart sank to the lowest of low depths.
"The rumor was true," whispered Gibby. "They're not just dating. They're actually going at it!"
"Gibby!" I snap, irritably.
This day couldn't get any worse.