A/N: Sup guys. Thank you to those of you who reviewed. It's very much appreciated!(: I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to update! I've been super busy with Nationals and such… plus I didn't know exactly where I was going with this story. Hopefully I can pull it together, right? Right. K, as usual, PLEASE REVIEW!!

Disclaimer: iDon't Own iCarly.

Oh, how my Thursdays have changed.

My old schedule consisted of me going to school, hanging out at Carly's, and then doing homework till the wee hours of the night. My new, Sam-ified schedule has me going to school and the gym. That's it. No, no, no. I don't think you understand the significance of that. Here, let me paint you a picture.

I now see Sam Puckett before school, in first hour, in fourth hour, at lunch, in seventh hour, between each class at our lockers, at Carly's after school, during iCarly rehearsals and shows, and at the gym for nearly five hours straight on Thursdays. Yeah, you heard me! FIVE HOURS. She claims that because I'm only working out one day of the week, I need to make the most of that day. As somewhat logical as that sounds, it sucks.

Sam decided that this week, we'd lift weights. Sorry, I meant I'd lift weights and she'd stand around, making fun of me. Needless to say, I hate my life.

"Come on, Freddork! Put your back into it!"

"Argh! I am!"

"Then how come the weight isn't even off the ground?! People are probably thinking I'm an idiot just for thinking I can actually train you!"

It took every ounce of my very being not to knock her over and beat her senselessly with the weight. That is, if I could actually lift it.

"Can we please take a break, Sam?" I asked, panting heavily. She stared at me disbelievingly.

"Fine…" she sighed. I started to smile before she added quietly, "Wimp."

Really?! I didn't see her lifting 150 pound weights! She was literally just standing there, leaning against a random machine! Man, she really irks me.

"Oh, shut up! You can't talk!" I burst angrily as we headed for the water fountain. I had been failing miserably for 2 hours, listening to her point that fact out over and over again. My body hurt in places I didn't know existed, and I wanted desperately to not be looking at her face for a second longer.

"I'm talking right now, Benson! What are you going to do about it?" Sam taunted.

"I'll show you what I'm going to do, Puckett!"

We were definitely beginning to turn heads. I think it was my next move, though, that caught the attention of the entire room. I screamed (a manly scream, of course), grabbed her shoulders, and whirled her around so she was sitting with her back against the chair of a machine. I swear there was a flicker of fear in her eyes. Shame no one had a camera, right?

I then straddled the chair, facing Sam. My hands were still squeezing her shoulders as I looked down on her.

"You are going to start treating me with respect," I shook her, but not too violently. Her expression was unreadable. She wasn't scared anymore, but she didn't look as nonchalant as usual, either. I paused before continuing.

"You are going to help me as my trainer, not torment me," I demanded with another quick shake. The many eyes on the back of my neck were starting to creep me out. I had to make this quick.

"And you're going to get up and come to the water fountain with me right now," I finished, taking a step back and grabbing her hand. I led her past all of the shocked faces, and wondered what in the world had gotten into me. When we reached the fountain, Sam quickly pulled her hand away from mine.

"Uhm, what was that about?" she yelled quietly. Yeah, I didn't know you could do that, either.

"I-I don't know!"

Part of me felt guilty for blowing up at her like that in public. The other part of me absolutely did not regret a word I had said. I decided to stick with that part.

"I'm just sick of you walking all over me! You're supposed to be here to help me! The whole point of this is to get me in shape so I can fight Lance. If we aren't doing that, I don't want to be here. I mean, there's no other reason for me to be spending so much extra time with you."

Would you look at that?

I can yell quietly too.

Problem is, I wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing. Sam looked a little crushed, and I immediately felt my heart sink. Why is it that any time she's sad, I get sad too?

"Fine," she finally said, just as my phone vibrated in my shorts pocket. I glanced at her before reading the text.

"It's Carly," I informed her. "She wants to know if you've managed to kill me yet." Sam laughed and I chuckled lightly.

"Tell her not yet, but we're just getting started," she nodded her head at me, smiling. I returned the smile. She is so bipolar.

In an unspoken agreement, we walked back to the weights section of the gym. I just thought I'd try my hand at suicide a few more times before calling it a day. You know.

Surprisingly, though, the rest of the workout went a lot better than I expected. Sam was actually encouraging me (despite her constant name-calling) and I was able to lift nearly every single weight I was given. That's right. Go me.

Even though I was pretty much paralyzed the next day, I think it was worth it. You cannot deny the huge monsters which are my arms. Sam, Carly, and a few random girls at school complimented my progressing new physique. They didn't call it that, of course. Carly and the random girls told me that my arms were looking nice. Sam? She walked up to me in the hallway, punched me in the arm, nodded, and sauntered off. Yep, I take that as a compliment. It's Sam, isn't it?

A/N: Who else is excited for iMust Have Locker #239?!?! OH MY GOODNESS, I AM!!! Okay well, I noticed as I wrote this that all of my stories sound the same. It's not just that the style is the same, either. Like the "part of me said this, the other part of me said that" thing… Carly texting them, wondering if Sam killed Freddie… so hmm. Guess I need to become a little more original. Alright, then. REVIEW PLEASE! Thank you, thank you!