Eeep! It's been a loooong time since I updated. Life gets crazy here at boarding school, sorry. But I have one quickie request: if you like this story, please read my other iCarly one (A Game of Music). Please?

"Carly. Carly! CARLY, STOP!" I scream, while she chases me around her apartment like a maniac. It's two o'clock in the afternoon on the day of the eTeen Awards, and she is trying to get me to put on hot pink liquid eyeliner. Why? I have no idea. I duck under the table and stare her down. "Carly, put the wand down!"

Carly holds up her skinny wand and grins. "Get over here! Come on, you'll look so cute!" I sigh. This isn't worth it. I motion at her with one finger. She claps and runs over to me.

"Please make this quick." I close my eyes and feel the brush dance across my lids. I reach around blindly to try to find a chair to sit down in while it dries. I find one. I pull it out. My ass misses it by a mile and slams to the floor with a big whump. "Ow," I say, trying to get up. But because I can't see, I hit my head on the counter.

"God, Sam, just open your eyes!" says Carly. They take a moment to refocus, but then I see my best friend standing there, holding a bag of frozen peas from her fridge so I can ice my head. "Thanks," I mutter, rubbing it tenderly for a moment before placing the cold on it. It really hurts. But I'm not saying anything; I don't want anyone thinking Sam Puckett is a softie.

Spencer suddenly appears in the foyer, camera in one hand and giant plastic apple in the other. Carly and I both cock our heads in confusion.

"Sculpture," he says, lifting up the hand with the apple. "What happened to your head?"

"I hit it on the table," I say plainly. I hope there's not going to be a lump. I can only imagine how that would look on camera. In front of millions. Wow. I still can't believe we're going to be on live television.

"Who hit what on the table?" asks Freddie as he walks in, his psychotic mother on his tail. She glares at me.

I toss the peas onto the table. The pain as kind of subsided. "It's nothing," I say, trying to brush it off. "I just hit my head on the table after I fell." Freddie, not taking the clue that I don't want a big fuss over it, comes over and examines my head. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks, looking concerned. I smile at him. It's so cute how worried he is.

"I'm fine."

"Okay then! Let's get to the picture taking!" says Spencer, obviously attempting to clear the awkward that is now hanging in the air. Mrs. Benson looks like she wants to roast my head for dinner. "The limo should be outside at three to take you guys over to the theater. Why don't you guys try standing over by the window. Natural light is good for photos." The three of us troop over and end up surrounded by crazy-colored sculpture that has spray painted plastic forks all over it. So much for being natural.

"Smile!" The three of us force it until Mrs. Benson's shutter stops going. Spencer only took one picture of his own, and then several for the iCarly site. "Wait, one more!" I say, tossing my PearPhone at him. Carly and Freddie both look at me, confused.

"I'm not the sentimental type," I mutter, "but it's nice to have my own picture." This time, our smiles are real. My phone beeps as Spencer tosses it back to me. I read the text. "Limo's here. We should head downstairs."

Spencer pulls us all in for one big hug. "Knock 'em dead, kiddos. Me and Socko will be watching, live from the couch, in our jammies!" he says in his obnoxious Girly Cow impression. We all roll our eyes.

"We'll see you later," says Carly, reaching for her tiny clutch and handing me my own. "Let's go." The three of us file into the elevator and head down to the lobby. Freddie puts my hand in his. It's warm, and it makes my toes tingle. He looks really good tonight; he's got on a grey suit that has a slight metallic touch to it, along with a white button down and a silky light blue tie. Carly looks at us lovingly and murmurs something about us being an adorable couple. I'm glad she's finally on board with our relationship.

My eyes widen as we all get out of the elevator. Lewbert's screaming at a mob that's developed in the lobby. There must be at least fifty paparrazzi and reporters scuffing up his tiles. He shrieks when he sees us.
"THEY'RE HERE! NOW GET OUT OF MY LOBBY, YOU CRAZIES!" he screams, causing the three of us to be encircled by them all. We try to make our way through; it's no use. "Why are they here?" Carly whispers uncer her breath as we weave through them all.

"I don't know," Freddie replies, breaking through them all to the glass doors. We spy the limo and run for it, cameras hot on our heels. The driver is holding the door open, and we pile in. The sunroof is open, so we pop our heads out and shout goodbye to them all. It's kind of a cute idea, in my opinion. As we drive off, Carly makes an announcement.

"Guys, I think we might be a little famous."

I really hope you guys like the chapter! Happy November to you all.

xo, Chantal