AN-This is a sequel to ch432, where Freddie found out that Sam was really good at English.
…..
Jungle
"Wow, you really know your stuff, Sam," Freddie said as him and Sam sat on his couch flipping through the latest book they had been assigned in English class, The Jungle. "I actually get what's going on in this book!"
"Yeah, it's really depressing," Sam nodded. "We could watch a movie or something now if you want to cheer up."
"Hang on, I just want to review this last chapter," Freddie told her. "You know, with your help, Sam, I think I'll be able to bring my grade up to a B+! I mean it will ruin my straight A plan, but it was better than what I would've gotten without you."
"Don't you forget it," Sam grinned.
"Hey, baby?" Freddie asked.
"Yeah?"
"I've been wondering," Freddie said, closing his book. "How long have you been into this kind of stuff. Reading and writing, I mean."
"Oh, I dunno," Sam shrugged. "I guess I started liking real books and not just Boogie Bear when we made that bet back in eighth grade that I couldn't finish The Penny Catcher. You remember that?"
"Yeah, I do," Freddie chuckled. "That was years ago, though."
"Uh-huh, congrats on finding me a legal hobby," Sam smirked. "And I've always sort of liked writing. When I was little I used to write little stories about this pig named Dave. And then my mom started dating a Dave and I had to stop because her Dave was even more disgusting than I made the pig."
"Based on the guys your mom dates, I'd believe it," Freddie laughed. He put his arm around her. "So you think you'll major in English or Literature or something in college next year?"
Sam shrugged. "I dunno."
"You don't know?" Freddie frowned. "But Sam, you're so good at this stuff!"
"Yeah, I like reading because it's fun," Sam said. "I don't know if I want some stuffy old professor ruining the fun of reading by giving me a billion papers and exams about it."
"Well I think you should seriously consider it," Freddie said. "You have a real gift. Oh! That reminds me!"
He grabbed his backpack and began rifling through it.
"What are you looking for?" Sam frowned.
"This!" Freddie replied, pulling out a sheet of paper. "It's a scholarship competition. See, all you need to do is write a ten-page essay about a fictional character in a classic literature work and you can earn a chance to attend some giant poetry seminar this summer. You'd probably get to meet lots of famous authors and make some connections!"
"I don't want to write a ten-page paper," Sam said.
"Why not? You like to write!" Freddie pointed out.
"Yeah, about things I want to write about," Sam told him. "I write for me. I don't want to force something out just to win a contest."
"But Sam, you're so good at it!" Freddie said. "It would be stupid for you to just waste your skills and never show them to the world."
Sam crossed her arms. "Why?"
"Well…because," Freddie said simply. "What's the point of being good at something if you're not going to do something with it?"
Sam narrowed her eyes. "You know, this is why I didn't want to tell you about this. I like reading because it's fun for me. I like to write because it makes me feel good. I don't want to have a million other people looking down at my work picking it apart and telling me it's not good enough!"
"Sam, I'm just saying, it would be nice for you to be able to be proud of what you can do," Freddie said.
Sam shook her head, getting to her feet. "I am proud of how well I do in English…I guess you aren't, though."
And with that she quickly turned and headed out of the apartment.
"Wait…Sam!" Freddie called after her.
But she had already left.
Freddie sighed. Why had she been all worked up? All he had done was try to be supportive of her! Wasn't that what boyfriends were supposed to do? Why wouldn't she want to actually do something with her knack for English? She could be the next big author! Or she could become a prestigious literature professor at a high-end university!
He shook his head. "She finally found something she's really good at," he said to himself. "Why would she just throw that away?"
Sighing again, Freddie headed out of the apartment and into the Shay's apartment. Carly and Spencer were out of town visiting a friend of their dad's, but he knew Sam would be there.
Sure enough, when he went up to the iCarly studio, he found Sam sitting on one of the beanbag chairs.
Taking a deep breath, Freddie stepped into the studio and sat down next to her.
"Well, um, I'm sorry for whatever I did," Freddie said.
Sam rolled her eyes. "Ha."
"Sam, I'm sorry, but I don't get why you're mad," Freddie said. "All I want for you to do is actually make something out of this talent you have. I mean I wish I was as good at English as you are."
"I just don't want to dedicate my whole life to it, okay?" Sam snapped. "Jeez, why can't you accept that?"
"But you love it!" Freddie exclaimed. "You're supposed to find that one thing that you're passionate about and go with it! Why wouldn't you want to spend your life doing something that you're good at and that you enjoy so much?"
"Because what happens when I fail, huh?" Sam yelled.
Freddie frowned. "What do you mean? You're not going to fail. You have the highest grade in our English class right now!"
"But what about when I get to college next year?" Sam pointed out. "And my professor tells me my writing style is all wrong? Or when I have to read some book that makes no sense to me? Or when I try and publish a book and every publisher rejects it?"
Suddenly, Freddie understood.
"Sam," he said gently. "I-I get it. It's scary to think about failure. But no matter how good someone is at something, their going to make a mistake at some point. You just have to get past that. If a professor doesn't like your writing style, ask him to help you make it even better. If you don't understand a book, re-read it. And if a publisher rejects a story you write, you just find another publisher. That's just something that everyone has to face at some point."
"Not you," Sam said softly. "I've never seen you mess up once when it comes to computers."
Freddie gave her a small smile. "Oh yeah? You remember last month when I told you and Carly Neville had sent us a virus that made the iCarly site shut down for almost an entire day?"
"Yeah," Sam nodded.
"Well, I-I made that up," Freddie admitted. "I shut down the site by mistake. I was trying to update our video page and somehow wound up messing everything up."
"For real?" Sam frowned.
"For real," Freddie confirmed. He gripped Sam's hand. "Baby, look. If you don't want to pursue this, that's your choice. But don't let your own fears hold you back."
Sam nodded, looking into his eyes. "Okay."
Freddie kissed her gently.
"I have always wanted to write a book," Sam whispered.
"Then do it," Freddie told her. "I know you can."
