"Ok, that's the third time we've come back to buy more ingredients," Spencer grumbled, lugging two full bags of food behind him. "Are you sure you've got everything? Because I don't wanna get back to Bushwell and then have to carry these things back here again."
"Yes, Spencer," Carly said, waving a dismissive hand. "And you know we only went back because you got the wrong kind of flour."
"How can there be a wrong kind of flour?" Spencer wondered. "It's all just the same thing, when you get right down to it. Bits of... whatever." Carly smirked and turned to look at him.
"You don't know what it is, do you?" she laughed. Spencer pulled a face back at her.
"I don't need to know!" he replied. "I've got better things to do than know how to make flour..." He trailed off as something caught his attention down the street. Carly frowned.
"What?" she asked. Spencer's eyes narrowed.
"Gibby!" he snapped. He dropped the bags with a growl. "You can take these the rest of the way, right? Good, thanks!" Without waiting for a reply, he took off down the street after Gibby, leaving Carly to struggle with the heavy bags. She groaned.
"Spencer!" she shouted exasperatedly, struggling to lift them. She stopped as a small hand appeared in her field of vision and grabbed one of the bags.
"Need a hand?"
Carly looked up to see Sam smiling hopefully at her, a half-eaten Fat cake held limply by her side. Carly rolled her eyes.
"I'm fine, Sam," she mutttered bitterly. Sam sighed.
"Come on, Carls, I'm trying to make it up to you here. We had a misunderstanding. Can't we just put it behind us?"
"It was not a misunderstanding. You betrayed me!"
"You're being overdramatic," Sam said, watching Carly sadly. "I know I shouldn't have done it, but how was I supposed to know-"
"We had a deal, Sam!" Carly snapped. "We talked about this. I thought after what happened last time you'd respect that!"
"I do!" Sam said. "But I didn't know that you'd- seriously, Carly, let me take those bags for you."
"I can handle it!" Carly insisted. She took a firm hold of the bag and lifted it off the ground as Sam watched, one eyebrow cocked. For a moment, time seemed to slow: Carly took a step back to balance the sudden shift in weight of the bag in her hands, her foot caught on a loose slab of the sidewalk, and she fell. At the same time there came the unmistakable sound of a truck barrelling down the road toward them. Sam's head whipped around and she moved instantly. In one movement she charged at her friend, her arms going around the brunette's waist as her momentum threw the two of them across the street. And then a shadow fell over them and something went... crunch.
Spencer darted down a side alley as Gibby turned the corner ahead of him. He was already panting for breath, but his knowledge of the area let him cut in front of Gibby as the boy reached the front of Bushwell Plaza. He flinched at the sight of Spencer leaping from behind the building, and his hands went up in front of his face.
"Gib.. Gibby!" Spencer gasped, breahing heavily as he tried to talk. "I wan... wanna..."
"Oh, no," Gibby said firmly. He edged slowly away from Spencer, his hands still raised defensively. "I'm not letting you get me again. You're taking this way too far."
"Yeah, I... I know..." Spencer panted. "I jus-" He cut himself off with a violent cough, before leaning against the wall and letting out a short breath.
"Man, I am out of shape," he muttered. "Look, Gibby, you're right. I got caught up in my revenge plans, and it all got a bit crazy... look, I wanna make it up to you." He smiled weakly at the confused boy, who lowered his arms slightly. Gibby narrowed his eyes.
"How?" he asked. Spencer grinned and pointed down the street.
"There's a hotel down there, yeah? I was talking to Socko's uncle Manny - he works there, you see - and he told me that Ryan Seacrest is staying there all week!" Spencer watched as Gibby's face lit up in excitement.
"Really? No messing?"
"Really," Spencer replied. "I talked to Manny, and he said he'll take you up to his room to meet him. You know... if you wanna." Gibby glanced in the direction of the hotel before turning back and eyeing Spencer suspiciously.
"And you haven't booby-trapped the door, or covered the hallway with glue, or replaced Ryan Seacrest with a tiger?" he asked warily. Spencer shook his head.
"I swear, Gibby, that hotel is completely safe," he said, putting a hand on his chest. Gibby nodded, satisfied.
"Let's go then!" he urged. Spencer raised a finger.
"Could you just do me a favour? Run up to my apartment and just grab the envelope by the door. I owe Manny some money." Gibby shrugged and nodded, opening the door to Bushwell Plaza and strolling across the lobby as Lewbert glared at him. Spencer pushed the door open slightly and slipped in to watch as well.
"Into the elevator, little Gibby," he whispered with a smirk on his face. Gibby reached the elevator and pressed the 'up' button. There was a brief whirring sound before the doors slid open and a wave of water swept out of the elevator, engulfing Gibby and throwing him back across the room. Spencer let out a brief shout of elation and rushed toward the unmoving Gibby.
"I gotcha, you little-" he began gleefully. Before he could finish, he found himself slipping on the now wet floor, and he hit the ground with a loud thud.
"Argh, chiz!" he cried. Lewbert glanced over at the two injured boys and snorted.
"They'll be fine," he muttered to himself, before leaning back in his chair and falling asleep.
"Sam? Sam! Why isn't she saying anything? SAM!"
"Just give her a moment. She'll be awake any minute now."
Sam groaned and her eyes flickered open. She raised a hand and rubbed her eyes to clear her blurred vision. Carly swam into focus, sitting above the blonde with her arm in a sling.
"Uh... hey Carls," Sam muttered. She glanced around her, trying to take in her surroundings. A bright light glared down at her from the ceiling and illuminated the white walls of the room.
"Wha... where..." she said slowly, flexing the muscles of her hand. Her gaze flicked back to Carly and she furrowed her brow in panic.
"Carly, where's my Fat Cake?" she asked desperately. Carly's eyes widened slightly at her question, and the brunette began giggling uncontrollably. Sam watched her angrily.
"It's not funny! I'm hungry!" she moaned.
"I knew you'd be ok," Carly laughed, putting a hand in front of her mouth to try and control herself. "I mean, apart from your leg, of course... sorry about that." Sam winced as her mind flashed back. Her leg had been twisted at an impossible angle and she'd almost been blinded by the pain.
"Frigging taco trucks," she mumbled. "It's like they've got a vendetta against you." Carly smiled weakly and sighed.
"I'm lucky to have you and Freddie around to help me out," she agreed. "And I... I shouldn't have got so angry with you. I overreacted and I almost lost my best friend." Sam smiled back at her and waved a dismissive hand.
"It's cool," she replied. "We all make mistakes. That's why pencils have erasers." She frowned as her stomach rumbled.
"If you did want to make it up to me, though, then I could really use some food around now. And I don't mean any of that chizzy hospital food. I mean real food."
Carly smiled and stroked Sam's cheek.
"I'll see what I can find."
"I'll be waiting, cupcake."
