It was early and I was in a limo. That was one negative and one positive, but I didn't know which one overruled the other. This wasn't the first time I had been in a limo, but every time I stepped into one I was amazed. They're so roomy and big… and the FOOD! The driver or someone puts baskets of food in the back just for the people riding. That God for iCarly! The reason I am able to ride in limos and eat the hundred dollar imported fruit in the back.

I was on my way to the first magazine interview with Carly, Freddie, and Spencer. Carly and Freddie because they were, duh, part of iCarly. Spencer, because he loved limos.

It was still too early to be nervous, eight o' freaking clock. But I had been nervous last night. In fact I had been so nervous that Carly had to drug me (with turkey and nightquil) before I could finally fall asleep. That was around one o'clock a.m.

Freddie, wide awake, as he always was in the morning, was jiggling his leg and tapping on the armrest. Spencer was eating a Chinese Apple; he had found a love for them in one of iCarly's other limo experiences. Carly was munching, still half asleep after a night with only a few hours rest, on a bagel. I had already eaten two cinnamon buns, some fruit, and a mocha frappuccino. I was about to dig into a plate of French toast, when Freddie looked at me with disgust and said, "How can you eat?"

"You haven't eaten breakfast, how can you not?" I demanded.

"Sam, do you realize what's going to be going on today? We have to be very careful about what we say! Have you even decided if you're going to tell them that I'm that father? And if not, what are you going to say? This isn't going to be like any other interview we've ever had! It's going to be terrible, and the questions are going to be hard. What are you going to say when they ask you when you stopped hating me? What are you going to say when they ask how far along you are? What are you going to say when they ask about your influence on the other teenage girls on the planet?" Freddie demanded. He gave a little upset smirk and shook his head. I knew he couldn't look at me, he looked out the window and I looked at my plate.

He had just made all the nerves that were still sleeping come out. I stared at the delicious piece of French toast in my hand and sighed, I knew now that my nerves had fully surfaced I wouldn't be able to enjoy it in full. God, Freddie! Couldn't you have waited until I was done with the toast? I thought. But I decided to eat it anyway.

Though Freddie had made me nervous, I still didn't think about what he said. In hindsight, I probably should have.

"So why do we have to get here so early?" I asked Carly. She looked up groggily from her headrest,

"Um, because they want to take pictures…" she mumbled.

"Pictures? Why?" I asked.

"Uh, probably because you're going to blow up to the size of an elephant and they want to remember how you look." Freddie snapped.

"Hey, enough with the attitude Benson!" I shot back.

"CHILDREN!" Spencer howled, "Enough." I didn't want to correct him, but if we were children we wouldn't be on our way to an interview about my pregnancy…

***

Four hours later and the pictures were just starting. I was in such a bad mood I thought I might kill someone before the stupid people around here got to the actual interview!

Carly, Freddie, Spencer, and I arrive at the magazine's building at nine o'clock. Spencer and I immediately started searching for the buffet stand, but before I could find it I got whisked away by some stylists.

I had been scrubbed, plucked, filed, waxed, brushed, makeup-ed, and re-makeup-ed until I could hard feel any surface of my body. Getting me to look good was not an easy task for anyone. I had so much to work with that it took four hours, in comparison to Carly's three. At one point I had to be physically restrained by straps so I couldn't injure the poor people working on my anymore. I think I may have broken one's arm when he waxed my legs.

Though I had injured more than seven people in my first two hours, my breaking point was when Spencer came to see how I was doing while holding a plate of ribs. Honestly, he should know better. I pushed one of my many makeup artists into the wall and he bleed. He was taken away and I haven't seen him since.

It was twelve o'clock, lunchtime, and the people were working hard. Carly and Freddie were both done and waiting out in the food court in bathrobes. I saw them walk by while I was still chained up. That caused me to rock myself and my chair onto the floor. I finally stopped struggling long enough for my stylists to be finished. By that time is was 12:45, and a man knocked on the door to let us know that it was about time for lunch to be over and people to start heading over to the shoot.

I screamed bloody hell, of course. My stylists were so worn out they collapsed in the nearest chair and waited for my tantrum to end. It finally did and they walked over to the man to insist that the shoot be pushed back to 1:15 because I would be controllable, to some degree, if I was able to stuff my face with all the delicious foods in the cafeteria.

Their wish was granted and I was released. I sprinted out to the food court in my blue bathrobe and slippers. I grabbed two plated and piled them will all the good looking food I could find. Once I thought that I had a decent amount of food, I turned around to look for my friends. I was met with a room of strangers starting at me like I was some type of zoo exhibit.

"What?" I demanded at them. Everyone looked away except for the three people in the room that were used to seeing me like this. I walked over to their table.

Carly was sipping some type of tea and chewing some gum. Freddie had a coke in his hand and Spencer popped an Antacid tablet. One too many pieces of fruit, I guess.

"Hey," I sighed as I sat down. Being with them was like a breath of fresh air, I was getting so claustrophobic in that room. They knew me well enough not to ask about the screaming that I was sure they heard. They just took in it silence, they knew well enough what happened.

Once I had eaten enough to feel relatively calm again I got a good look at my friends. Carly's hair was breathtaking. They had cut it so she has side bangs, swept off to the side. Her hair was curled into natural waves, falling in a glossy wave around her shoulders. Her made up was natural is, the only thing I could notice right off the back was her eye makeup, and that was minimal.

Thinking about Carly's appearance made me wonder what I looked like. I hadn't looked in a mirror once. Great, I thought, now that's going to drive me crazy… I would go and find myself a mirror, as there were none in the cafeteria, but the draw of food was too strong and I found myself going back to the buffet for seconds.

I had just finished my third plate – Spencer had to pop another Antacid tablet just to watch me eat – when a bell rang all around us. I jumped; I thought I had skipped school to come to a magazine shoot/interview today. However, I was being forcibly restrained, emotionally destroyed, and having the soul sucked out of me. I guess this place wasn't too far off from school.

Before we went back to our dressing rooms Carly gave me a BEHAVE! Look. Freddie walked past without even looking at me.

What's wrong with him? I mouthed to Carly. She shrugged, but I bet she has a better sense of what was wrong than I did.

I walked into my dressing room to find a team of emotionally and physically exhausted stylists sitting on a couch rubbing their temples and drinking latte's. The entire group let out a sigh when they saw me, and I let out a grown when I saw them.

"Please," one begged, "let us just do your makeup without any trouble. Please."

Well since you said please… I thought like the smart-ass I am. But instead I just nodded.

I gripped the side of my chair as hard as I could while I let them touch my face. That worked, until one of these silly, frivolous, vain, people who devote themselves to appearance noticed that I was starting to ruin my nails. They flipped out, naturally, and rushed to get me a balloon filled with flour for me to squeeze. I love those things, but I always popped them. I decided to focus all my energy on not popping it, which worked surprisingly well. Or, at least, it gave me something to do.

Ten minutes later, the makeup artists stepped back and let out a sigh of relief. I looked good – or at least from their expressions that's what I inferred – and they were still alive. They spun me around to face the mirror and I absorbed what they had done to me.

My eyes were dark and smoky, my lips light pink. I looked like myself but in a strange parallel universe way. My hair was straightened, the blond ends curled towards my face, and I had a bump made of my bangs that was pulled back over my scalp. I look hot! I thought.

Once I pulled my eyes away from the mirror, I looked down at my robe. I guessed I wasn't wearing that. "What am I wearing?" I asked. Someone handed me a dress bag. "A dress?" I asked.

"Yes," they all whimpered. I think they thought I was going to go ballistic. They were almost right.

I was about to throw a fit when a huge rush of something I had never felt washed over me as I looked at their sad, pitiful faces. What was it? Was this feeling… mercy?

It must have been. Because instead of punching the one nearest to me like I normally would have done, I quietly grabbed the bag and walked to the Chinese paper divider thing that people change behind. Someone handed me a pair of Spandex shorts, how wise of them. I wouldn't have been happy without something other than underwear under the dress.

I unzipped the bad and looked at probably the most amazing dress I had ever seen. It was short, painfully short actually, with a ruffled bottom. The thing would only come about halfway up my thigh. The top was strapless and skintight. It was several shades of blue; it started a dark blue on the highest part, moved quickly to sky blue and back to the dark blue for the skirt end of it. I don't know why I liked the dress; maybe it was the color, or maybe it was the style – which I doubted, it had ruffles – but something about it made me so happy tears welled up inside my eyes. They disappeared before they had time to roll down my cheeks. For this I was glad, someone might have a nervous breakdown if my made up had to be redone.

I pulled on the dress and turned around to look in the mirror. Now I looked really hot. To be more actuate, I was stunning. "She's perfect!" I heard some in the room chirp. I looked down at my bare feet. "What shoes-"before I had time to finish my questions I was handed a pair of low-top blue Converse (they matched the lighter shade of the dress) and a pair of tiny socks. I was enthralled by the stylists' choice in shoes; it brought me into the whole look.

Once I was completely dressed I was escorted to the photo shoot. I was the last one there; Freddie and Carly were already posing on the white backdrop.

When I looked at Carly my mouth dropped. Her hair and make-up looked incredible, I had already known that. But her dress was beautiful. It was the same style as mine, skin tight then moved down to ruffles. But her dress was white with one single pink stripe around the waste. Her shoes were tiny silver strappy heels. They had a few bands that wrapped around her lower ankles, but they didn't go any higher than that. It suited her very well, she looked gorgeous. Of course, I looked awesome too and I preferred my dress.

Freddie was wearing a button up shirt with the sleeves loosely rolled up around his arms. He looked fancy, but casual at the same time. He was wearing some type of black pants. His hair was casually messy. He looked hot.

I had to admit, I was a little turned on. I walked up to him slowly, "hey," I grinned. Instead of making an attempt to flirt back, which was where I wanted the conversation to go, he gave me a look and turned his head.

Carly had noticed us, but she was standing far enough away to pretend she hadn't heard. "Hey, Sam, come over here. Let me see your dress!" she said.

I walked over to her, confused and angry. What was Freddie's problem? I reached Carly and hissed, "What's his problem?"

"He doesn't like what's going on here," she said.

"Whatta mean?"

"Sam, you don't understand."

"Obviously," I rolled my eyes.

"They're making us gorgeous so we feel comfortable and like they want us to be happy, then they'll rip us apart in the interviews! Or, they're trying to make us into a sob story. You notice how we all look like we're going to prom? Senior prom is almost exactly the same time that you're due, we won't get a prom. Or, another or, is that they're trying to make us beautiful and make something bad out of that. Like being pretty isn't a good thing, pretty people are whores, or make us look fat and ugly when you get pregnant. I don't know if you've thought about this, but you're going to get big, Sam. like, huge. You've already gained a few pounds and this is probably the last time you're going to feel and look amazing!"

I knew she was right. I hadn't thought much about what was going to happen in a few months, I think I was trying to avoid it. I had already gained weight; some of my jeans didn't fit anymore. But now wasn't the time to be planning the future.

"Well what'd we do?" I asked.

"There's nothing we can do, but be VERY careful about what you say. I have a feeling coming here was a mistake…"

Now I was distressed. I couldn't believe what we had gotten into. Why had Carly and Freddie agreed to these damn interviews? I was pissed when I found out, but I accepted the idea and now look where I am! About to have all my words and thoughts drawn out of me and twisted around by some bloodsucking reporter.

"Okay, gang! Gather round! Smile, now!" some flamboyantly gay photographer was shouting. I didn't know how I would be able to smile and look good with all this on my mind. But being on iCarly for so long had made me good at hiding my emotion from cameras.

I stood in front of the white curtain and wrapped my arms around my two friends, hugged Carly, and had Freddie hold me all for the camera. As I flashed a big white smile to the "click click click" of the camera, I dreaded what the interviews would bring.

Hey, so what'd ya think? I didn't mean to make this chapter all about them getting ready and stuff, but this was just how it played out. Please let me know what you think.

These were the dresses I was trying to describe. I think they suit each girl. Here:

Carly: http:// . com/catalog/product ?ID=449387 &CategoryID =42813

Sam: http:// .com/ catalog/product/ ?ID=449392 &Category ID=42813

(WITHOUT SPACES!)

p.s. when someone tells me my story is 'the best' of anything, it makes me amazingly happy. You have no idea, so I just wanted to say thanks for that (: and thanks to everyone who reviews/favorites/whatevers! (: