Prologue

In an instant, in the mere nanoseconds it took for the image of Carly Shay to be transferred from his retina, to his occipital lobe, and then to the higher cortical regions in his brain, Freddie Benson had fallen in love. It was the first time the young boy had played victim to the illness, but here he was, age eleven, falling in love for the first time and at first sight. They only talked for a few minutes. Freddie had just moved into the Bushwell, and they had exchanged the typical, mundane superficialities of a first acquaintance. But to Freddie, it was nothing short of earth-shattering.

Carly Shay. His mind had gone on autopilot. Currently, Freddie was standing in the hallway of the eighth floor of the Bushwell, in between the Benson's and the Shay's apartment doors. Just fifteen (or was it twenty) seconds had passed since Carly had disappeared behind room 8-C. Freddie had gone into the hallway to get something, but now, for the life of him he couldn't remember what. The only thing revolving inside his skull was the conversation he just had with what had to be the most amazing girl on the planet.

"And I get to live across the hall from her for now on," Freddie sighed, eying Carly's apartment door. Slowly, grudgingly, he let his consciousness pierce through the mental fog created by the brunette. He tried hard again to think of why he had ventured out into the hall in the first place, but to no avail. Freddie shrugged his shoulders. "Oh well. I guess I just better go back inside and continue unpacking."

With a final, lovelorn glance at the panel of wood separating him from his one-true-love, Freddie Benson turned around and proceeded to open the door to his own apartment. When he attempted to twist the knob however, he discovered that it wouldn't budge. He tried twisting it again, and then a third time, and finally in the opposite direction.

"Oh crap." A painful cringe wound its way through Freddie's features. His mother had warned him no less than seventeen times this morning not to forget his key. That she as his loving parent and protector would lock it on every occasion in which she was not in the room. Like right now, when she had been called away to the hospital for emergency backup on a major case. She had told Freddie that she might be gone for the majority of the evening, that he was not to leave the apartment, and that if a life-threatening situation required him to do so, not to forget his key. The Bushwell charged steep rates for rescuing locked-out residents, and that psycho doorman named Lewbert would certainly not make things any easier.

"I'm dead," Freddie said. He threw his arms up in the air and let them hit the sides of his legs on the return trip. "I am dead. A few minutes ago, I met the love of my life, and now I'm dead. Smooth Freddie. You move into a new city where no one knows you, and with your one chance to reinvent yourself, you blow it."

Freddie searched every pocket of his jeans in vain, knowing that his key would not be found in any of them. He hit his forehead against the unyielding door, moaning to himself. "This is not according to the Freddie Benson Master Plan." If only he knew one of the residents in this building, then at least he could...

Freddie resumed hitting his head in earnest. "Yeah stupid, if only you knew anyone, like, gee, I don't know, THAT INSANELY HOT GIRL YOU MET FOUR MINUTES AGO!"

The eleven year-old covered his mouth in embarrassment. That had come out a bit louder than expected. Nevertheless, there it was. He could not only come up with an excuse to knock on Carly Shay's door and see her again, he had a pending need. And maybe if she felt sorry enough for him, she'd want to spend the entire evening helping him unpack. Of course, he'd take care of all the heavy stuff, but still...

"Wait." Yet a third time, a foreign object struck the area above Freddie's brow-line. This time, it was his hand. "If I tell her I locked myself out, what if she laughs? What if she thinks I'm a doofus? Aw carrot-sticks, what am I supposed to do now?"

Freddie rubbed his hand down the length of his face. "Okay Freddie, think. You've got to figure out all your options. Option one: knock on Carly's door, and ask for help. Either she'll feel bad for you and you'll have a chance to bond with her, or she'll laugh at you and you might as well kiss the rest of your life goodbye. Option two: go downstairs and ask that Lewbert guy for help. He'll probably make weird animal noises at you, you'll get fined, and when mom comes she'll lock you up in your room until kingdom come. Option three: uh, go find an alley and began a new life with some...friendly...hobo."

The options churned in Freddie's brain. Number two was definitely a 'no,' and frankly, he felt too young to live with a hobo, even a friendly one. This meant only one option remained.

The young boy gulped. He turned to face room 8-C. Though it was a mere six feet away, it seemed further. And his heart wouldn't stop hammering.

"Come on," Freddie told himself. He tried to sound brave, but even to himself, his voice resembled a scared boy who probably wouldn't start puberty until a year or two later than his peers. "Sh-sh-she's just a girl. You can do it Freddie."

He took one step. A deep breath. Then another step. He had only traveled five inches. Letting out one last sigh, Freddie hastily traversed the distance to the foreboding slab of wood and knocked on it before his nerve ran out.

If his heart was pounding before, it was beating behind his sternum like a jackhammer now. It's not too late, his mind went. You saw that alley on the drive over. And that hobo looked kinda nice. Despite his mind's insistence, Freddie stood his ground. He had never been more terrified in his entire life. What would she say, what would she say, what would she say?

An eternity had passed and there was still no answer. Maybe no one had heard him. This latest twist didn't sit any better with Freddie. First he had to worry about whether to stay put or whether to bolt. Now he had to worry about whether to knock again or whether to bolt.

Freddie made out a faint voice from the other side of the door. It sounded like 'okay,' or some type of affirmative. It had a feminine pitch to it. Was it a feminine pitch? Whoever it was, whatever they had said, some type of female was probably on her way to the door right now to open it, and judging from his recent conversation, it was probably Carly Shay.

"Oh my God," Freddie uttered. His chest was on fire. "Stay calm Freddie. Whatever you do just don't screw this up. Do not screw this up."

The door opened.

Freddie's heart-rate almost immediately returned to normal. Along with that, confusion settled into his features. Huh? There was a female under the door-frame. Instead of being greeted by a brown-eyed, long-haired brunette however, he was standing in front of a somewhat shorter, blue-eyed, long-haired blonde. This girl was wearing cargo pants that would have looked more appropriate on a boy, funny socks, and a long-sleeved shirt with some kind of pattern he couldn't decipher. Not only that, she was actively consuming a giant leg of fried chicken and staring at him as if he were the most boring individual on the face of the earth.

"Uh...hi?"

The instant the salutation left his lips, Freddie realized that he couldn't have said anything stupider. The girl just stared at him in response. She ripped a rather large chunk of chicken of the leg, guiding it through her lips with her tongue, chewing calmly. Freddie it appeared would have to do the talking.

"I was uh..." For some reason, the girl's chewing made it really hard for Freddie to concentrate. "I was just...I was just wondering if you guys were doing anything right now." Freddie tapped his palm with a fist. An alibi was coming to him. "Me and my mom, we just moved into the apartment across the hall. 8D? You might have seen it."

Freddie gestured behind him, at the door to which he had misplaced his key. The blonde girl didn't seem to care. She just kept staring at him and eating her chicken.

"A-anyway," Freddie continued. "My mom, she's not here right now, but I, I don't know anyone in this city so I thought I'd knock on your door and maybe get to, you know, know you guys."

The girl actually began licking her chicken leg. Licking her chicken leg. The way a small child would lick an ice-cream cone. Sweat beaded on Freddie's forehead. He was starting to get nervous again, and this weird girl was only making things worse.

"So, you...you live here? I mean, of course you live here, why wouldn't you live here? Random dude just knocking on your door and saying 'Hey, I guess we're gonna be neighbors.' You know, I think I met your sister earlier and I have to say, I can really see the family resemblance between the–"

"You know, two words come to mind when I hear you talk," the girl suddenly said. She held her chicken leg to the side but was still staring at Freddie. Her expression revealed only the faintest elevation of interest.

Freddie's focus was nailed to the girl. Something was about to happen. Choosing a few words carefully, he said: "What are they?"

The girl returned the chicken leg to her mouth. "Go away." With that, she spun on her heel and closed the door.

Freddie gaped stupidly at the rejection. He had transitioned from a state of bliss that he never knew existed, to a state of terror that he never knew existed, to now, a state of confusion that he never knew existed. What in the world just happened? Oh no, maybe this is it. Maybe now, I'm finally gonna go crazy just like my mom.

The door to 8-C opened. The blonde girl. What happened next would set the precedent for a pattern of behavior that Freddie would learn to associate with Sam Puckett. Before he knew what was happening, the girl took her chicken leg, pulled on the waistband of Freddie's jeans, and dropped it down his pants. She then spun on her heel and closed the door.

Freddie stood still for a long time, until he digested this latest development. Yep. I've gone crazy. Just like mom. No question about it; my life is over. Hobo alley, here I come.

For the third time, the door to 8-C opened. Once again, it was the blonde girl. On this occasion, she had switched her mask of bored almost-irritation to one of honest interest. Also, she had her hand held out in front of her, as if she were expecting something.

"Actually, can I have that back?"

Disclaimer - I do not own iCarly, it's characters, nor any other shows, characters, music, and/or movies that may be referenced.