Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.
Present
"For a while, things started to look like they were getting better. Sam and Freddie both still hung out with me, though they didn't talk to each other as much. Occasionally they would start bickering like an old married couple and I would think that maybe, just maybe, things would just go back to the way they were before, but then they would realize what they were doing and go back to barely talking to each other again. They went back and forth like that all throughout our senior year and up until spring break, when Freddie suddenly came bursting through my front door with some news I definitely didn't expect…"
April 2012
"Guys!" The door swung open to reveal an excited-looking Freddie clutching his laptop so tight that his knuckles were turning white.
"Whoa, what's going on?" Sam said. "I haven't seen you this excited since the day your mom finally agreed to stop giving you bi-weekly tick baths."
Freddie's grin wavered for a moment, but then he looked at me and smiled again. "Guess who just sent me an email," he said.
"Who?"
"Look for yourself!" He handed me his laptop carefully. I couldn't help but notice the blonde hair that appear right behind my shoulder. "The Center for New Electronic Research and Development," I read aloud. "Wait," I said, "are these the same people in charge of that nerd camp you wanted to go to last summer?"
"N-E-R-D Camp," he corrected. "And yes. Read what they said!"
"Okay, okay! I'm reading." I cleared my throat. "Dear Mr. Benson," I said in my best posh accent. Freddie rolled his eyes. "We at the Center for New Electronic Research and Development, or C-NERD, wish to congratulate you on your acceptance to our prestigious summer program, the New Electronic Research and Development Camp!" I looked up from the screen. "Freddie!" I smiled.
"I know!" he grinned back, taking the laptop from me. "They said they were so impressed with my application this year that they decided to overlook all the stupid things that someone put on my application last year." Freddie glanced over my shoulder. I could practically feel Sam frown.
"Wow, so I guess you must have worked super hard on that application, huh?" I said.
Freddie raised his eyebrows knowingly. "Carly," he said. "I know what you did."
I looked around to see if I was missing something. Everything in the room looked like it always did. "What did I do?"
"Carls, I didn't even finish that application. I started it but had to put it off so I could finish my college apps. And I had been working on it in your studio."
"What are you saying?" I asked.
"I'm saying that I know you finished filling out my app for me!" he said. "Must have even written to them, because they said in the email that they were really impressed by the letter my friend had written them on my behalf."
"Freddie, I didn't touch your application."
He smirked in that lop-sided way he always did when he was trying to convince someone he wasn't gullible. "Uh, yeah, you did."
"No," I said carefully. "I didn't." Freddie's face fell slightly. "Really."
His mouth stayed open in surprise for a few seconds before it slowly closed shut and his eyebrows came together. "But…but if you didn't do it…" he started. "Who did?"
It was then that we noticed that Sam was no longer in the room.
"I'm such a jerk." Freddie put his head in his hands and leaned his elbows on his knees, which were propped up on Sam's front steps.
I turned my attention to Frothy, Sam's cat who was currently the only member of the Puckett house who wasn't ignoring us. "Yeah, well…"
"Carly!" he wailed.
"Sorry!" I apologized. "I mean, you're not a jerk. It was just a misunderstanding. It could have happened to anyone."
"How can you say that? I had no right to treat Sam like that over one little mistake she made over a year ago! I should have realized that she was only trying to make things right!"
"You're right, you should have realized that."
"Well how was I supposed to know?" he said, clearly exasperated.
I opened my mouth to respond, then shut it, then opened it again. "I'm sorry," I said. "What exactly do you want me to say?"
"I don't want you to say anything, Carly!" By then he was shouting, and he had gotten up from his place on the steps. "I don't want you to say anything, and I DON'T want you to get involved. IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. It's NEVER your business. But for SOME reason, you always seem to THINK it's your business, even when it's clearly NOT."
I stared at him. His face was red and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. After a moment, his shoulders relaxed and his faced softened. "That was me being a jerk again, wasn't it?"
I scratched Frothy behind the ears and nodded slightly. Freddie dropped back to the steps with a great oomph and resumed his head-in-hands moping.
"Carly?" he whispered.
"Yeah?"
"What am I going to do?"
I glanced back at the door to see if maybe Sam had decided to come outside when Freddie was making all that noise. There was no one there. "I don't know," I said truthfully.
Freddie sighed. "I just wish things would go back to the way they were before."
I turned my head to look at him, my gaze meeting the most melancholy pair of eyes I had ever seen. He looked so sad it was hard not to look away, but I made myself keep eye contact so he would know I really meant what I said next. "Me too, Freddie," I said. "Me too."
Present
The room was quiet except for the continued pounding of rain on tin. Though their mouths remained closed, I could practically see, hear, and feel the sympathy radiating from the tight lips and downward-cast eyes of the two older women sitting with me in the otherwise empty restaurant. There was no use in denying it; finding out that you had inadvertently caused your best friends pain, well, it hurt.
"So?" Irene finally whispered, breaking what I thought was going to be an endless silence. "What happened?"
June 2012
It had been nearly two months since Sam had last spoken to Freddie. At first it was awkward to go to school and do iCarly when they weren't speaking to each other, but after graduation and the uncomfortable farewell episode of our web show, we hardly saw each other anyway.
Sam in particular barely left her house anymore, and the only time I had seen her since we graduated was an accidental run-in at the grocery store. After a quick nod and a "hey," she had grabbed her cart and practically sprinted toward the nearest checkout.
Freddie had finally given up trying to get her to speak to him and was focusing all of his attention on packing for NERD camp and pretending like he didn't care about his ex-girlfriend's silence. I knew he did.
"You're going to have a great time," I told him on the day he was to leave for camp. He had come to my apartment around nine in the morning to say goodbye—knocking on the door instead of barging in for once—with a duffle bag slung across his shoulder and a clearly forced smile on his lips.
He nodded unconvincingly at my words. "Yeah. I'm sure I will." He glanced at the front door.
"Maybe she's just running late," I said. "Or she might not have gotten my text."
"Maybe," Freddie shrugged.
"FREDWARD BENSON!" A shrill voice cut through the silence. "IF YOU AREN'T IN THE CAR IN THE NEXT THREE MINUTES I'M GOING TO CALIFORNIA WITHOUT YOU!"
"Your mom's getting really good at yelling long distance," I said. "She could probably win some kind of award for that."
For a second I thought I saw Freddie's mouth quirk up in a real smile, but it was gone before I could be sure. "I'd…better go," he said.
"Yeah." I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear in an effort to stall while I thought about what in the world I should say. "I guess you should" was all I could manage.
Freddie cleared his throat. "Well. Um…" He moved in for a hug, not even bothering to set his bag down. It lasted for only a second, but it was so awkward it seemed to last longer. He stared at me for a moment longer before turning, mumbling a quick "bye," and walking out the door.
I half expected him to come running back through the door a minute later so he could give me a real hug and a real goodbye, but he never did. After nearly ten minutes of sitting on the couch and staring at the spot where my friend last was, I got up, went upstairs, and went to bed for the rest of the day.
A week passed. Then two weeks. Then three. Freddie called occasionally to tell me about all the complicated and impressive-sounding technology he was getting to work with, and for the first time in two months, I actually thought he sounded genuinely happy. It was during one of these phone conversations that my front door swung open suddenly, revealing the person I wanted to see most but least expected to see.
"Sam?" I said as she marched into the room, snatching the phone from my hand and hanging up on Freddie without explanation.
"What do you think you're doing?" I said, grabbing her by the wrist before she could get away or do any more damage. I was a little sickened to realize that Sam's wrist felt a good deal bonier than it should have.
"How come he always calls you?" she spat angrily.
"Huh? What are you…"
"Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about," she slurred. "I know you two have been talking behind my back. I have my methods."
"Sam," I said carefully. "Are you drunk?"
"Ah, what's it to you?" she said, throwing herself on the couch. I could smell the alcohol on her breath.
"Alright. That's it." I stood up. "I'm not going to have you barge in here drunk after two months of not talking to me just so you can accuse me of…you know what, I don't even know what you're accusing me of. Talking to my friend? No. I'm not putting up with this. I want you out of here. NOW."
I waited for Sam to either start screaming or storm out of the room, but she did neither. Instead, she did something I had only seen her do a handful of times and never expected to see her do again: she started to cry.
"Oh, Sam," I said, sitting down beside her and rubbing her back. It was every bit as frail-feeling as her wrist, and I noticed dark circles under her eyes when she looked up at me.
"Carly," she said finally. "I think I made a mistake."
Three hours and a cup of black coffee later, and we were on our way to San Francisco.
Present
"That's about it," I said. "We were on our way to California to get Freddie and Sam back together, it started raining, we stopped here, and Sam ran away."
"And you don't know why she would leave like that?" Ana asked.
I shook my head. "Second thoughts I guess. Does it matter? Knowing why she left won't bring her back."
"Alright! That's it!" Irene got up from her table and walked toward us. I thought she was going to try to kick me out again, but instead she just held out a brand new PearPhone in a pink case. "I bought this yesterday because I couldn't take one more day of being phoneless," she said to Ana before turning her attention to me. "You can use this to call your brother, or your friend, or whoever."
"Oh Irene," I said. "Thank you!"
"Yeah yeah," she muttered. "Just don't tell anyone I did something nice for some snot-nosed little punk. It'll ruin my rep."
I called Sam first. There was still no answer from her. Freddie didn't pick up either.
"Oh for Pete's sake," Irene said. "Come on."
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"My car. I can drive you where you need to go so you don't get in trouble with your brother, but I SWEAR this is the last time you're weaseling any help out of me. I only have so much nice left in me and I don't care to waste it all on punks like you."