Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving
Summary: So now, she would finally answer her own question; return to what she remembers loving, to those she remembers loving.
Disclaimer: iDon't Own iCarly or any of it's characters. Only the ones I make up:)
iRemember
Chapter Three
Carly, Spencer, Mrs. Benson, Terrine, and even Jeremy and Gibby.
Sam saw all those people. She didn't have a lot of loved ones…a lot because she was a bit aggressive, but seeing everyone there to see her flight, she felt almost perfect.
It would've been completely perfect if Freddie was there.
She had said her goodbyes. Some were hard, like Carly's and Spencer's. Some were funny, like the wedgie she gave to Gibby. She was supposed to be ready to leave, to dive head-first into Hollywood and new beginning, which would later become her very demise, unbeknownst to her. She should be ready.
But she wasn't.
Was she really that insignificant to her dorky friend? Sure, they'd fought a lot, but it was always so harmless. It was their thing. They made bets and picked on each other and argued about incredibly stupid stuff. Did he take it all seriously? Did all those funny times – the bets, the name-calling, the competitions – really push him to hate her?
It had to be hate; it was the only option. Why else would he be letting her leave, without even saying some kind of goodbye?
Sam was hurt, but she wouldn't cry. Not for him, or for anyone. Sam Puckett did not, doesn't, and will never cry.
She gave a smile, wary smile to them all, and turned to Mrs. Benson. "Where's your dorky son?"
The question came out half-heartedly.
Mrs. Benson gave a sad smile. "He says he's sick, honey. But I'm sure he's upset that he doesn't get to see you off."
Yeah…right…I'm sure he is.
The only thing he's sick of is me.
"Okay. Whatever, then." She shrugged, but she was sad. Really sad. Everyone could tell.
"Sam! The plane is ready to board! Get your patooty over here!" her mom screamed.
Sam hugged Carly one more time. Then, she looked around. All around the airport. She looked everywhere she possibly could for a sign of a dorky shirt or a short kid holding a laptop.
Nope. Nothing.
So she was gone.
I don't like airports.
It's not that I'm scared of flying or anything. I like flying. It's insanely awesome to be so far from the ground and your problems. That's probably the only part I liked about fame – all the travel. But not even the places I went and the stuff I did there – just, the flights. The flying. I love that.
It's the airports I hate. Why?
Well, think about it; airports equal goodbyes. They've always equaled goodbyes. And I'm not talking about little-girl-flies-to-sleep away-camp-across-the-country goodbyes. That little girl will see her family again, once she says goodbye. She'll write them letters, they'll send her pictures. The goodbye is only temporarily.
But my life has hooked me up with permanent goodbyes. They're all permanent.
When my dad went on that airplane in September 2001, we all said goodbye to him. We all hugged him, told him how much we'd miss him, and for him to have a safe trip…but none of that mattered. Because then he was gone. Taken down along with the plane. I don't like to talk about it all that much.
When I said goodbye to Carly, to Spencer, to all these people who went to see me leave for here, this stupid town, little did they know Sam Puckett would be gone. Not dead, but dormant; hiding; too scared to reemerge. So they said goodbye. And I left. The goodbye didn't make a difference.
Here's the thing about goodbyes; it doesn't matter how long they are, how much of them there are…When you say goodbye, for real, there can never be enough to fix the pain.
So that's why I hate airports. And goodbyes. Especially when they're combined.
Not to mention they're totally creepy at night. I walk in and the lights are all off. The ceiling in high and desolate-looking. I appear to be on the first floor of two. The floors are marble green. All the lights are off, except for a booth across the floor.
I approach the booth. "Hey lady?"
The women, who has brown messy hair and ugly glasses, jumps nearly five feet in the air, her papers flying everywhere. She scrambles around to reorganize them, throwing me a glare. Spaz.
"What can I do for you?" she asks, her teeth gritted. Well, she's charming…
"I need the soonest ticket to Seattle." I tell her clearly. "There any planes that leave now?"
"What do you think we are, the Magic School Bus service?" Miss Cranky snaps. "It's one A.M.! I shouldn't even be here right now. My boss is forcing me to." Wow lady, you're a mess. I really shouldn't be talking though.
"Well…you could just quit then." I shrug. "If it's not something you wanna do."
"It's not that easy, you can't just leave when you want things to change. Life doesn't work that way. And I will not be taking life advice from a teen girl!" she says. Oh, how wrong you are.
"Okay then…" I say awkwardly. "Can ya just check when the next flight is?"
Crankypants sighs and opens a file on her laptop. "Earliest flight is 5 AM."
She hands me a ticket, and I pay for it. "Can I stay here 'til then?"
"Knock yourself out." The lady sighs. "I'm finished." She closes her booth and walks out of the airport.
Great. I was making such great time up until now.
I slide down on a wall and end up sitting on the cold ground. Reality starts to sink in.
I'm crazy. I really am. I'm risking everything and anything for people who could very well hate me right now.
I push the trailer sunglasses further up my nose and set my back in front of me. Did I forget to mention I was carrying a bag?
It's pretty stupid…but…all that's in the bag are pictures. A photo album, actually. Carly made it for me before I left.
I used to look at it daily. You know, in those first six months. But after I made my Puckett-to-Puckétte transformation, it was stuffed in a corner of my room.
For some reason, I opted to bring it when I went to stay at Le Beau. And for the very same reason, I further opted to bring it with me, although I still hadn't looked at it. I knew the reason. I bet you do too. I feel it's implied.
Anyway, now it's right in front of me. And get this; I've ridden the biggest roller coasters out there, I've stood up to just about every teacher who tried to control me back in school, and I even went bungee jumping one time. But I'm afraid to open a stupid book. It's actually not stupid at all. I don't know why I said that. Eh, I guess I'm just tired.
Finally, I muster enough dignity to open the thing.
HELLO, MY MISBEHAVED SECOND HALF,
It's GIBBY!
Just kidding, it's me, Carls. I put this together for you a couple days ago. Rules: 1) Don't toss it away! 2) Don't eat it. And 3) Don't trade it away like you did with me shirt! Haha:)
I'm going to miss you a lot. It really won't be the same. You can't spell same without 'sam,' you know? But I know this is what you want to do.
I hope this brings back some awesome and barely sticky memories!
-Carly
I smile softly. Those rules.
Two out of three isn't bad.
The first picture is of the two of us, with a tuna sandwich, the day we met.
"Can you believe we became friends over a tuna sandwich?" I asked, laughing.
"I know! And now you hate tuna." Carly added.
"No, I hate the way that British chick in our English class says tuna!"
"Oh, right…teeoona!"
"I just adaw teeoona!" I laughed.
"Heh, teeoona." Freddie laughed from where he stood at his laptop.
"Yeah, don't play along."
I flip through the pages, memories coming back full force. There are pictures from the first iCarly webcast. We were all so tiny!
I keep flipping, finding pictures of pranks played on Lewbert, pranks I played on Fredward, Carly and I joking around at Glitter Gloss, us with Spencer and Spencer's sculptures, us with the Plain White's T's and a picture of me with the World's Fattest Priest. My eyes water. He died two and a half years ago. Kind of symbolic.
There's a picture of the two of us with Zebo the dinosaur (I'm punching him with great force!), at TVS, my first shot at fame. Apparently I'm too stupid to take a hint.
There's a bunch of others; random pictures from the beach and Groovy Smoothies and the iCarly studio; sometimes the three of us, sometimes with Spencer, who was wearing light-up socks in every single one. Even the beach ones!
I'm about to close the book, as I'd finished looking, when I noticed; there were two pages stuck together! There's a page I haven't seen.
I quickly pull them apart and view the page.
My heart literally freezes up. I can't breathe.
It's a picture of the dork and I, fighting over a muffin (apparently, it was the last one).
I remember.
I remember it, when it was taken. Carly took the picture, and then threatened to post it all over iCarly if we didn't stop fighting.
"You can't torture me like that!" I begged Carly. "That's proof that I associate with…it!" I pointed to the dork sitting next to me, clinging on to the muffin I was clinging onto.
He turned to look at me. "Has anyone ever told you you're rude and obnoxious?"
I smiled sweetly.
Then I shrugged at Carly and stuffed the muffin at his nose.
Okay, my thoughts have been overly-centered around Freddie. I'm getting ahead of myself.
I just want to see him again…to find out why he decided to hate me for following what I thought was my dream. That's all, folks.
I close the book and gently place it back in my bag, which also contains my Puckétte clothes.
I finally understand why I'm so willing to risk all I have for these people, as I sit here in the dark, closed airport.
In all honesty…I have nothing to lose.
Against my will, I fall asleep.
A/N: Yes, yes, I know I said I'd updated Four Corners next, but I LOVE writing this story. Lol.
Just so you know, all quotes are mine, except for the tuna sandwich one. That's from iDon't Wanna Fight.
I hope you liked this chapter. It was more of a…reflection chapter, I guess. Just a lot of thoughts. Sam's actual journey doesn't progress much. Just her internal one.
Oh, by the way, some of you have asked where I got this story idea from. Well, I didn't get it from any other stories, but I was inspired by the song Hollywood's Not America, by Ferras. You may have heard it on American Idol. It's a great song. And while you're listening to the lyrics, replace "Helena Jane" with "Sam Puckett":)
Alrites, gotta get some sleep!
Laters.
-Colors