Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.


The Wander-Year

Chapter 7


"…I was thinking of changing the color scheme to silver and gold, or do you think that would be too metallic? No, maybe I should stick to silver and light blue, because that really does have that wintery, Christmassy feel to it, doesn't it? Anyway, Courtney's mom is a pastry chef, so she's making this gorgeous cake, taller than me, she said. And I'm just so excited, aren't you?" Carly paused for the first time in her nearly ten minute monologue and took a deep breath, beaming.

I took a long sip of my coffee, burning my tongue in the process and leaned back in one of Carly's kitchen chairs. Over my mug, I could see Carly looking at me expectantly, clearly anticipating a response. "Uh-huh," I said, nodding quickly. "Yeah." Carly's annual Christmas Extravaganza was coming up, and they were usually a ton of fun. But this year, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. "So," I said slowly, "who's coming?"

Carly waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, you know… you, me, Spencer, Gibby, Wendy, uh, a couple of cheerleaders… some of the football team…" she trailed off, staring down at her fingernails. "Oh, and Sam and Max. Hey look, a golf ball!" She bent under the table, her hair shielding her view from my vigorous head shaking.

"No," I stated. "No way. I can't go, Carls, I just can't."

Her hands clutching the handle of her mug tightly, Carly resurfaced with a golf ball and a pissed off expression. "Freddie," she said through tight lips. "This is ridiculous. You can't let this stupid fight keep you from tradition!"

"It's not about tradition! This has nothing to do with you, I just –"

Carly banged her coffee mug on the table so hard that it shattered into a million pieces. Bits of china flew everywhere, and I was splattered with searing hot coffee. "Dammit!" Carly shrieked, as her hands flew up to shield her face. "God dammit! Shit, Freddie, I am so sorry –" She leapt up and snatched a dish towel that was lying innocently on the counter, patted her face with it, and tossed it to me. "I'm so sorry," she said again. "I don't know what came over me."

"No," I gasped, dabbing my burnt face with the towel. "I shouldn't have said that. Of course it concerns you; you're my best friend, but…"

"But what?" Carly snapped, the irritation in her eyes returning. "This fight is getting just plain silly. I feel like a fourth grader when I have to talk to you guys separately. I had to give up iCarly because of you. I barely hang out with either of you anymore. Look," she sighed, "I know you two haven't always had the best relationship, but I thought it was getting better." She lowered her eyes and shook her head slowly. "I really did."

I looked away, twisting the towel in my hands to avoid answering her. My insides squirmed uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," I said finally. "I don't want to talk about this. I'll go to your party, but I'm not talking to Sam. Okay?"

For a second I thought that Carly was going to protest, but she instead jerked her head in agreement, her jaw muscles tightening.


"Remind me again, why are you doing this?" I called up to Gibby, who was scurrying up a ladder just beside Ridgeway's main entrance, a rippling white banner in tow. Squinting in the glaring sun, I lifted my hand to shield my eyes, as Gibby leaned against the bricks unsteadily.

"I told you," he yelled back, "it's National Wear a Plunger on Your Head Day tomorrow, and I want it to be recognized!" And with a wide smile, he flipped over the billboard-sized piece of paper to reveal a crude drawing of a man with a bright pink toilet plunger perched on the top of his head.

The winter breeze picked up to a howl, and I pulled my arms closer to my chest. "And you're sure this is approved with the school board?"

Gibby stared down at me, his mouth agape. "You have to get this stuff approved?" he asked, bewildered. "Man, that's crap! What about freedom of speech? Equality for people and toilet plungers everywhere!" Muttering to himself and shaking his head, Gibby began to step down the ladder.

"Hey, be careful, the wind's really getting –"

"Whoa!" My warning came too late. A sudden gust of wind blew the ladder straight back. Gibby flew off the rungs, shouting frantically, his arms pinwheeling, and landed with a soft thump on a mound of snow.

"Gibby!" I dashed over to the snow bank only to see him getting up, rubbing his back.

"Why is it always me?" he grumbled. "It's like the universe hates me. Why? Why do you hate me, universe?" Gibby yelled up to the sky. "Is it because I take my shirt off a lot? Huh? Well, too bad, because that's what Gibbies do!" Ripping off his puffy blue coat, he made to talk off his sweater as well, but I stopped him.

"Gibby, you idiot, it's like twenty degrees out here!"

"The Gibster fears no temperature!" Gibby roared, and he broke free and tore off his sweater and the shirt underneath, leaving only his bare stomach. He ran ahead of me, growling and snapping like a deranged wolf. It only took me a few seconds to catch up with him though, as he had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. "I'm cold," he stated as I reached his side.

I sighed. "Let's go to the Groovy Smoothie. I hear they're selling hot chocolate for the holidays."

The Groovy Smoothie was thankfully warm and cozy. After ordering two large hot chocolates, Gibby and I plopped down onto two chairs near the front door. "So," Gibby said as he took off his boots and placed his feet on the table, "what are you doing for your one word project thing?"

"Life," I replied. "It's a stupid topic."

"Easy!" Gibby yelled, banging a fist on the table. Several customers around us glanced at him in alarm. "I have to do 'order'. What does that even mean?"

"It means following the –" I paused. Gibby rarely paid attention to rules, and when he did, he seldom followed them. "Never mind. And my word isn't easy, it's dumb. There are thousands of words to describe life. How can I pick just one?"

"Easy," Gibby repeated. "It's all about craziness. Spontaneity, dude! Don't go by the rules! If you feel like taking your shirt off, by golly, you should take your shirt off! No consequences." He leaned back more in his chair, an easy smile spreading over his face. "I remember the first time I took my shirt off in public. I felt so alive, so free! Fred-o, when was the last time you did something completely crazy?"

I thought back. "Once, I filled a guy's hat with raisins."

Gibby gave me a blank look that was reminiscent of Sam. "Lame."

"We do a lot of pranks on iCarly! Those are crazy!"

"Yeah, but Sam comes up with them… uh, I mean, came up with them."

There was a sticky moment of silence before I quickly changed the subject. "I guess I'm not the spontaneous type."

Gibby's posture relaxed again. "You should change that. Do something nuts, man. You'll feel better." He massaged his neck. "Good for the muscles."

Outside, it looked as though the wind had died down some. Branches were strewn messily all over the street, but the trees were virtually still. "Something crazy," I repeated, my eyes still on the littered road. "I'll try."


While most high school parties in Seattle consisted of pulsing bass lines and drunk freshmen puking up beer, Carly's parties were like something out of a magazine. People actually dressed up for them, and no one ever complained about the lack of beer kegs. And even dressed in my stiff shirt and tie, I felt much more comfortable than I usually did at parties.

"Oh, hey, Freddie!"

I looked up from my drink and saw Wendy, her red hair pulled back in a long braid and a bright smile on her face. "Hi, Wendy, how are you?"

"Great, thanks! Isn't this party gorgeous? Carly always does such a good job."

I nodded, admiring the shimmering silver snowflakes and blue silk streamers she had finally chosen. "Yeah, she does."

"So where's Katy?" Wendy asked a little too casually. "Are you two still together?"

"Uh, yeah, we are, but she's in Utah for the holidays."

"Oh, too bad! So anyway, do you want to dance?"

I looked at Wendy and her flushed face and hopeful eyes, and felt a sinking sensation in my stomach. I didn't want to hurt her feelings. It was only one dance. What was the harm? "Uh, I guess…" My gaze drifted away from Wendy and fell on Carly's front door, where Max had just arrived – along with Sam. "Excuse me," I murmured, and ducked away, hurrying towards the sanctity of the kitchen.

"Pardon me, excuse me, sorry!" I said loudly as I elbowed my way to the punch bowl. I busied myself by filling up a silver glass with blue liquid, trying to make as much noise as possible, but Carly's shrill voice still rang in my ears.

"Sam! Max! I'm so glad you guys are here!" Carly shrieked, and although I couldn't see them, I was sure she was enveloping them both in a big hug. "Come on, take your coats off, I'll put them in my room – oh, Sam, you look so pretty!"

"Thanks," I heard Sam say, and my heart skipped a beat. She sounded so passive and lifeless, like a doll. Abandoning my punch, I walked into the living room, trying to avoid eye contact.

"Samantha just insisted on coming to your party tonight," Max was saying. "We had, uh, other plans, but she wouldn't budge. Strange seeing Samantha so… so…"

"Adamant?" I burst out, unable to hold my tongue anymore. "Yeah, she gets like that." I looked up from the floor for the first time, and saw Sam glaring at me. Max frowned. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Freddie, why don't you put these coats in my bedroom," Carly said hastily, shoving a heavy load of fabric into my arms. "I'd really appreciate it. She turned to Sam and Max, smoothing out her dress. "Anyway, I'm really glad to see you too. You guys are so busy, we never get to talk."

"I wanted to come," Sam said quietly.

Max smirked. "You never came before you met me."

Carly's mouth dropped open and a dull flush crept up the back of Sam's neck, over her collar, and up to her face. She looked away, and I suddenly could not see straight, rage at Sam's passiveness and her asshole of a boyfriend filling me. I waited for Sam to say something, to snap at him, to tell him to shut the hell up before she punched him.

But she didn't.

And then I couldn't take it. "I'm leaving," I said abruptly. I turned and walked towards the stairs, my heart pounding in my ears. No one tried to stop me.


The former iCarly studio was quiet, with only a dull echo of the party downstairs seeping in. I paced around the room, my head buried in my hands, my heart pounding in my ears. How could it have come to this? How could Sam have changed so much, and for the worse? "Argh!" I yelled suddenly, swiping a thick black book off the otherwise bare laptop cart. It fell dog-eared to the floor, landing with a dull thud, its pages spread apart. I picked it up, and a faded photo slipped into my hand.

It was of the three of us, the summer before freshman year. We were in the studio, about a foot away from where I was currently standing, our arms around each other tightly, our smiles wider than the ocean. Me in the middle with Carly and Sam on either side. Carly was doubled over laughing while Sam was leaning into me, her head nearly on my shoulder. We looked so carefree, so happy just to be together, without any worries.

I looked away, crumpling the photo in my hand. How different things were now.


It was almost an hour later when I left the iCarly studio. I gave it one last look – it was dark and nearly empty – before I shut the door and started down the stairs.

It was a bit quieter downstairs, but plenty of people were still there. I kept my head down – I wanted to leave quickly and quietly without Carly noticing and making a big fuss. My party mood had been zapped.

"But Max, I don't want to leave yet…" My head snapped up and there were Sam and Max blocking the door. She was pleading, and his face was hard.

"We're leaving," he said with a frown.

"But –"

"I said, let's go!" Max was nearly yelling now, and several people around them had turned around, alarmed. Sam's face was red.

"Stop yelling –"

Max shook his head furiously and grabbed Sam's wrist, yanking open the door. They vanished, the door slamming behind them, but not before I had seen Sam's face: pale, and streaked with tears.

It broke my heart.


Umm... hi. :) I'm not dead... I promise this story will be finished! I just got super busy, and then I completely rewrote this second half of the story... so yeah. It will be finished. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please do review, and I would of course appreciate it if you checked out my other iCarly stories... Sunrise, Behind Closed Doors, and Those Unsaid Things.

Much love,

Allie