I don't own iCarly. I just obsess about it.
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July 7, 2014, Shay's Apartment
Sam sat at the counter, concentrating on the screen in front of her. Spencer looked over her shoulder. "Hey, kiddo, what are you doing?"
"Looking for a job," she said. "I thought maybe I could do better than assistant manager at Groovy Smoothie, so I took this self-assessment test."
He leaned in to read the screen. She realized how good it felt to have a male body standing so close to her. Not sexy really, just solid and comforting. "Physical therapist?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said. "It says you need physical strength, the ability to tolerate other people's pain and the ability to motivate others."
"So," chuckled Spencer, "all those years you spent harassing Freddie and Gibby are actually going to pay off? What kind of degree do you need?"
Her face fell. "I didn't think about that. I guess I'll just go back to Groovy Smoothie."
"Why?"
"I barely passed high school," she said unhappily.
"You're smart, Sam. You just don't give yourself credit. Tell me again why Freddie wore a dress to school."
"I bet I could score higher than him on the SAT."
"Yep," he said. "Look, kiddo, I was total screw-up in high school and I made it into law school. You can do this."
***
July 11, 2014, Ridgeway High School
"Principal Franklin, I really appreciate you seeing me during the summer," said Spencer. "Are you willing to do a good deed for a former student?"
"Any time, Spencer," replied Ted graciously. "It's always a pleasure to see you. What can I do for Carly?"
"Actually, I'm here about Sam Puckett."
"I'm sorry, but I'm not willing to lift the restraining order until next year's class graduates. Timmy Foster still goes for therapy twice a week."
"Actually, she's applying to several local colleges for a degree in physical therapy. Her grades weren't exactly—well, they sucked," admitted Spencer. "I'm hoping you'd be willing to write her a letter of recommendation."
Principal Franklin thought for a moment. "Well, I suppose I could say that she's determined… resourceful… intelligent. She's likely to achieve any goal she sets for herself. I don't have to mention that her goal is generally destruction of school property or tying a fellow student to the flagpole. Does that work?"
"Thank you, Ted," said Spencer. That would be great."
"I'll get it in the mail this week. Just give Ms. Banes the contact information on the way out."
"Oh, and Spencer…"
"Yes?"
"I loved your Trash to Penguins exhibit at the zoo last spring. I don't suppose you'd be willing to come by on Career Day and give some of our budding artists a little talk?"
***
October 23, 2014, Shay's Apartment
Curled up on the couch, Sam scowled at a heavy textbook. Spencer balanced precariously near the top of a ladder and attached an enormous pair of metallic butterfly wings to the top of an unstable-looking tower of junk. "Hey, Sam, can you hand me my pliers?" Sam roared with frustration and hurled the book across the room. It bounced off the ladder. "Watch it!" yelled Spencer. "All you had to do was say no. You didn't have to try and kill me."
"This class is killing me," snapped Sam. "Why do I need to know the name of every muscle in the body?"
"Because your teachers hate you." Spencer climbed down the ladder. As he reached the bottom, his face lit up. "Wait here."
He came back with a large bucket of modeling clay in one hand and a skeleton tucked under his arm. "This is Mr. Bones. Mr. Bones is going to help us learn human anatomy." Spencer picked up the skeleton's hand and waved it at Sam. "Hello, Sam."
"Please tell me that's not real."
"No, it's just a model. I got him to scare off those mean kids who used to harass me on Halloween. Now go get your book." Sam retrieved the book and found the page that had frustrated her earlier. Spencer took the book out of her hand and studied it for a moment. "OK. Tell me where the soleus muscle is."
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Somewhere in the leg?"
"Get out some clay," directed Spencer. "You are going to make a soleus muscle and attach it to Mr. Bones' fibula. Use the pictures to figure it out."
When Julie walked in later that afternoon, Melanie was lying on a blanket, cooing contentedly while trying to put her foot in her mouth. Sam and Spencer sat nearby, surrounded by a half-dismantled skeleton and ropes of clay. Their heads were bent together over a book. "Honey, I'm home," called Julie.
Spencer looked up and asked, "How was your day?" Julie started to tell him a funny story about Noah Parker and Allie Nichols fighting over a swing, but she realized before she finished that his attention had drifted back to the pretty little blond sitting next to him.
***
November 7, 2014, Mall-Mart
"Shouldn't your school provide this stuff?" asked Sam as Julie tossed packages of construction paper into the cart.
"Same old story. Funding cuts," said Julie, picking up a jumbo-size bucket of foam stickers, checking the price and setting it back on the shelf. "Out in the suburbs, they ask the parents for donations, but in our district…."
"A lot of people couldn't afford it," finished Sam.
"I really don't mind doing this," said Julie. "I love the kids. I think of them as my own."
"Do you think you and Spencer will ever have any?" asked Sam. Seeing the distressed look on Julie's face, she said, "Whoa. Didn't mean to get personal there."
"No, it's OK. I'm just not sure how much longer Spencer and I—" She broke off. "Please don't say anything to him. I may be imagining things."
Sam frowned. "I thought you guys were doing fine. You've lasted a lot longer than any of his other girlfriends." She paused to look down the next aisle. "Turn here. I need to pick up diapers."
***
December 17, 2014, Shay's Apartment
Julie looked impatiently at her watch as she spooned applesauce into Melanie's mouth. The front door finally opened. Sam and Spencer walked in, loaded down with shopping bags. Their faces were flushed with cold and laughter. Sam walked over to Julie and said, "Thank you so much for watching Mel. You should see all the things we got her."
Julie gave Sam a thin-lipped smile and said, "No problem." Turning to Spencer, she said, "Do you realize our reservation is in 20 minutes?"
"Wow. Really?" he asked. "I must have lost track of the time." Julie glared at him and he said apologetically, "If we leave now, we can probably still make it."
After the door clicked shut, Sam wiped some applesauce off Melanie's chin and leaned towards her conspiratorially. "Uh oh, Monkey. Somebody's jealous. Mommy had better leave poor Uncle Spencer alone."