Taking pictures with huge cameras in front of a big white sheet-thing is surreal. I don't see how anyone could get used to this; it's unnatural, bizarre.
I have to admit, I'm having a little bit of fun. I feel, well, glamorous, and like I'm having actual fun for the first time in a while. I fell… happy. I get to dance around like a little girl with my two best friends. I feel pretty.
Oh my God these hormones are making me crazy.
Finally the photographer yells "That's a wrap!" I turn to search for a clock on the wall. When I find one I see that an hour has passed.
I turn to face Carly, "Wow, they must have thousands of pictures," I say.
"I'm sure it's more than that," she laughs. Freddie walks past us and sits down in a chair, opening a bottle of water and chugging down half of it in one sitting. I sigh, he needs an attitude adjustment. That's coming from me…
"OKAY GANG!" a chipper voice comes from around the corner. I exchange panicked looks like Carly, uh-oh...
Around the corner comes a woman with bright red lips, strawberry blond hair, and about forty years old going on twenty. Dakota Perry, Seattle's bitchin', backstabbing, career ruining celebrity journalist.
"Hi, iCarly! It's so nice to meat you all," she says, walking around shaking our hands, "Carly… Freddie… and, oh Sam…."
"Hello," we mutter.
"Follow me," she says, gesturing wildly.
We follow her out of the studio and down a hallway, left, right, up stairs ect. Finally, we find ourselves in a white conference room with a huge window overlooking the city. There's a waterfall on the wall in between two wide glass doors. The long table and chairs are matching light brown woods. There's a small table next to the long one with four glasses of water and a tray of fruit. I grab a plate and pile up, but everyone else only gets their water.
"Sit down, sit down!" Dakota says.
We sit down in the middle of the table, me and Freddie on one side and Carly on the other. Dakota sits on the end. She pulls a laptop out of a bag and sets it up. I notice there is a camera on the back, not very convenient for a webcam but perfect for videotaping unsuspecting people.
"Sign these," she hands each of us a clipboard with a contract on it.
"What is this?" Freddie asks.
"It just says that we can use this interview in the magazine." Sounds okay to me, I signed. Carly and Freddie are a little hesitant, but they signed as well.
"So, do you have any questions about how this works?" Dakota asks.
We shake our heads. "Alright," she's giving me a smile that doesn't seem to reach her eyes, a devious smile, "We'll start with Carly."
"Mhm?" Carly squeaks.
"Carly, how did you find out Sam was pregnant?"
"Um, she ran into my house and dumped like five pregnancy tests on my bed." Carly gave a little laugh at the end.
"And what did you do?"
"Made her take the other five."
"They were all positive?"
"Yes."
"What did you do emotionally? Did you cry, did you encourage her to get an abortion?"
"I don't believe in abortion," Carly said. "But yes, we did cry."
"You don't believe in abortion? But wouldn't that be the simplest solution?"
"Yes, but it's cruel. It's inhuman. It's disgusting. It's murder." Carly spit the words out at Dakota. Dakota looked mildly surprised.
"Why did you decide to tell your iCarly viewers? Wouldn't there have been an easier way? End the show for a time, perhaps? Or only show Sam from the chest up?"
Carly looked down at the table, ashamed. "We didn't think of that until after we had told everyone…"
"What did your brother think?"
"Well I wasn't there when Sam told him. And he didn't talk about it after. I think he was disappointed."
Dakota turned to Freddie, "Speaking of telling people, what did your slightly, um, abrasive, mother think?"
"She yelled."
"What did she say?"
"She didn't want me –" Freddie stopped. Maybe he felt me nails dig into his thigh when I realized what he was about to admit, or maybe he realized it himself. But we both knew that no one knew who the father was, and a slip of his tong wasn't going to reveal that. I squeezed his leg harder. He slowly moved his hand to pull mine off, but he made it look like he had an itch.
Dakota had leaned forward, she knew she was about to get the scoop. Her eyes were wide with excitement, but narrowed and darkened when Freddie continued.
"Didn't want me to be around Sam. Not that she ever has."
"Did she ask if you were the father?"
"No," Freddie said. That was the truth, too. She hadn't asked, we had told her.
"Who is the father, Sam?"
This was it. The do-or-die moment of these interviews. I hadn't prepared for something to say, a stupid mistake. I seem to be making those a lot lately. But the answer to this question is crucial, I know it. I don't know the consequences of telling the truth, saying it's Freddie. But I know it will not be good. I'm hoping for a brainstorm, something to say. And it hits me.
"That's between me and him," I say. I'm pound of myself; I chose a good thing to say. The time I took to come up with it felt like an hour, when it was actually less than two seconds.
Dakota is disappointed; I can see it all over her face. She inhales deeply through her nose, and lets it out. I bet she's thinking of other questions to get me to admit who the father is, but she starts asking me simpler questions.
"How far along are you?"
"Bout nine weeks."
"Are you keeping the baby?"
"No," I answer. Freddie's eyes flash over to me, only for a second, but long enough for Dakota to catch. A grin spreads across her face.
"Freddie, is that a problem?"
"N-no," he stutters, "I'm just surprised. I wasn't informed that she decided not to keep it."
"And why should you be informed of that?"
"I'm her friend, aren't I? I'm part of iCarly. I should know what she decides to do with the baby.
"Okay kids, let's cut the crap," in 2.5 seconds Dakota's sweet, innocent persona was shed, and her true nature came out.
"I have information from multiple sources that you two have been dating for about six months. I know you're the father, even if you won't admit it. I'm very good at me job, I read body language. You didn't know that she wasn't planning on keeping the baby; it's a shock to you. Now just get off your high horse and tell me what you think of Sam giving the damn baby!"
"I don't have to tell you anything," Freddie spat.
"No, I suppose you don't, because either way this interview is going to be one of our top selling issues. Even if our age demographic isn't the same as iCarly's, parents know who you are. They hear their kids talk about you. If they recognize anything on the cover, at all, they'll buy it. It's the way the world works. If you deny it, it's just fuel for the rumor fire."
"I'm sure you're right, and the issue will be a best seller even if we don't tell you who the father is. You know what? You're a bitch. I'm leaving." He got up and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Dakota was smiling from ear to ear, but I didn't know why. "That's all, you can leave now," She told Carly and I, "A limo will meet you out front."
As Carly and I walked back through the labyrinth of hallways I whispered, "Why was she smiling?"
"I don't know," Carly said, "but it's probably bad."
We walked out of the building an indeed a limo was waiting for us, with Freddie and Spencer inside. Freddie sat looking out the window, completely blocking out everyone else. Spencer had two or three baskets of food.
I, like Freddie, sat staring out the window. I had an ominous feeling about the release of the magazine. I wonder what she'll make us out to be.
***
Two weeks passed. School calmed down. I was eleven weeks along now. My body is going crazy. I'm famished and ravenous one second, and the next I'm nauseous and tiny smells that I have every day bother me. I googled week 11 online and read that the most critical stage of development is over, and that the baby should grow an inch this week. What's happening to me is what's supposed to be happening at 11 weeks, so I guess I should be grateful, but I'm not.
Freddie hasn't been talking to me. I think it's because I don't want to keep the baby. I know we need to sit down and have a discussion, but I'm trying to avoid it as long as possible. Carly tells me every day that I should, "do it now!" but I never listen.
The paparazzi have been following us around. Principal Franklin told us that they will subside in a little while, but then get worse as I get farther along in the pregnancy. It's because no one wants to see me as an almost normal size girl, they want to see me huge. I don't know how he knows this, it's not like he's a paparazzi expert or something.
The interview where Freddie lost it still hasn't come out yet. Neither Carly, Spencer, nor I can phantom why. Tabloids are supposed to be quick and immediate, always on top of things. I'm worried about what they might be planning over there.
On the Friday, exactly two weeks after the interview, I pass Freddie in the hallway at school. I look at him, but he looks past me like nothing is there.
That's my line. He just crossed it. I'm done with this; we have to have a talk.
I will not have an opportunity to talk to him for the rest of time during school, so I plan on stopping by his apartment after. When the final bell rings I rush to the front door, anxious to escape in the mass of teenagers where no photographers will be able to spot me.
But when I walk outside I'm blinded by flashing lights. It disorients me, but I focus quickly. My fighting instincts kick in and I begin to punch my way out. Someone thrusts a small booklet of shiny paper in my face and I rip it out of their hands, clenching it in mine. Eventually I fight my way out of the crowds and make a run to the bus stop.
I jump into the nearest bus, not caring where it's going to, and pull the lever that automatically shuts the doors closed before any of the vultures can get to me.
"Um? Excuse me?" the bus driver asks.
"Sorry," I pant, "just drive, I'll get off somewhere."
"Alright, sit down." He says, no questions asked.
I turn around to face thirty or so kids from my school staring at me. I fake them out, lunging forward like I'm coming to get them and they all flinch. They turn away, embarrassed, and I sit down in the front seat.
I look at the magazine that was pushed into my face. My mouth drops. The headline is:
"iCARLY SCANDAL
SAM PREGNANT
FREDDIE STORMS OFF AFTER FATE OF BABY DETERMINED
'I SHOULD KNOW WHAT SHE'S PLANNING ON DOING WITH THE BABY'
'THAT'S BETWEEN ME AND THE FATHER'"
I sigh, not sure if I want to read what it has to say, but I grit my teeth and do it.
The story is not as long as I thought it would be. There is a bit on the history of iCarly, a bit on the history of Freddie and me, and a misquoted interview. I'm getting upset, until I see where it says to go online to watch the video of Freddie calling me a bitch when he learned of what I wanted to do with the baby. Then I'm pissed.
I pull out my pear phone and type in the magazines URL. I tap my foot impatiently while I wait for the page to load. Finally it does, and I click on another link to watch the video.
It's Freddie, Carly, and I sitting in the conference room. The video was taken from that awkwardly positioned camera on her laptop. I shake my head regrettably; I should have made her cover it up somehow.
I click play and watch as the fake scene uncurls:
"Is Freddie the father?" Dakota asks. WHAT THE FUCK? I think, SHE NEVER ASKED THAT!
"That's between me and him," I hear myself say.
"Are you keeping the baby?"
"No," I answer. Freddie's eyes flash over to me; the video shows them staying longer on me than they actually did.
"Freddie?" Dakota asks sweetly.
"I wasn't informed that she decided not to keep it. I should know what she decides to do with the baby," Freddie says. His face begins to get angry, but the camera shows it like it's directed towards me, when in reality it was for Dakota. "You know what? You're a bitch. I'm leaving." He says, and storms out.
I gasp. Adrenaline floods my body; I really want to punch this bitch in the mouth. In one less than a minute video she made me say that Freddie is the father, and made Freddie call me a bitch! I'm so outraged I could have a fight with every person on this bus and still go for more. I'm about to make the bus driver stop when I read a text from Carly.
Sam, do NOT do anything physical after watching the video! Where are you? I'm coming to get you. Exerting yourself might hurt the baby.
"The baby…" I mutter. "The damn baby…"
This baby has ruined my life. It's ruined iCarly, and ruined my relationship with Freddie. It's made it a little awkward between Spencer and me. People at school give me looks. Soon, once I start to show, strangers will give me looks. I blink back a few tears. I hate this!
My sadness has taken the adrenaline away, so I text Carly and tell her I'm okay, and that I will meet her at her house. The next time the bus driver stops I get off. It's about seven blocks from Carly's apartment. I walked slowly to Bushwell Plaza, trying not to think about anything. I'm a little numb. Rain starts to fall, it is Seattle, but it fits my mood.
When I get to Carly's home she pulls me into a hug. We stand there and I ask, "What are we going do to?"
"We're going to make it better."
***
The next night I'm standing in front of the camera, just like normal. Freddie is behind it with Carly next to me. The atmosphere in the room has changed. We've done iCarly when Carly and I are mad, Freddie and I are mad, or Carly and Freddie are mad and we still manage to put on a good and funny show. But tonight something is different, tense.
"So if some of you haven't heard, Sam is pregnant." Carly says, this is the first time we've brought it up since we first announced it. I nod.
"And most of you have probably seen the video of Freddie and Sam in the interview." She continues, "That was not real."
"Yeah, do you think Freddie would still be alive if he called me a bitch?" I joke.
"Freddie was mad at Dakota, our interviewer. She had a camera and made a video of the whole thing and then twisted our words around and put them in places they don't belong."
"Nothing in that video was true," I say. I put a lot of emphasis on "nothing" because I don't want to be asked directly if Freddie is the father, but I don't want them to think that either.
We continue iCarly like nothing unusual is going on. When the show is over and Freddie shouts, "We're clear!" I collapse into a bean bag chair.
"We already have tons of feedback," Freddie says. Carly sits down next to me and Freddie drags his laptop over to a bean bag and sits down. He pulls of the first email and shows it on the big screen.
"'Dear Sam and Freddie,' wow Carly, is that the first email they haven't mentioned you?" she shrugs, Freddie continues, "'I know the baby is yours and – sorry if this seems a little creepy – but I put your pictures into one of those 'Make me baby' sights to see what your baby would look like. Here are the results:'"
Under that were five – cute – pictures of babies. Carly and I stared as Freddie scrolled down. I didn't say anything, I didn't know what to say. Neither did Carly or Freddie.
We opened a few more emails, but a lot were about how disappointed they were in me, and how they were going to stop watching iCarly. One said that she was going to support us because she loves iCarly and even though it sucks I'm pregnant, nowadays it not unusual.
I puckered my lips and smiled at that one. Thanks, I thought.
Suddenly, from behind me, Freddie snaps, "I have to go."
"Okay? Bye?" I say.
"Bye?" Carly says in the same tone. Once he's out the door I turn to her and say,
"What'd you think that's was about?"
"I think he's upset." She says, "You really need to go talk to him about the baby. Sam, I'm serious. If he thinks you were planning on keeping the baby and he finds out you don't want the baby there is going to be major drama. It's his baby too, you know."
"Well what am I supposed to say? I can't ask if he wants the baby, what if he says yes? I don't want to keep it Carly, even if it is my kid. Being a good mother doesn't run in my family, and I have no money or job. My school career sucks, I'll be lucky if I can go to community college. We don't make any money off iCarly. I have nothing I can do!"
Carly looks at me, but at the same time looks past me. She's thinking of something. "We don't make any money off iCarly…" she says.
"Yes, I just said that!" I snap.
"But we could."
"How?" I ask.
"We could get endorsers. Sam, think about it! It's a great idea. They put an ad on our site and whenever someone clicks on it we get money! I've heard of people on YouTube doing that! They can make thousands of dollars a month, depending on how many people watch their videos. Hundreds of thousands of people watch iCarly, we could get you money!"
I don't say anything while I process what she has just said. Finally I conclude, "That might work." Carly nods, vigorously. "But who are we going to ask?"
"I'll figure that out. Someone cool, someone who'll pay us a lot of money."
"But they won't want to do that because of our 'scandal,' right?"
"Sam the number of viewers has increased by like 7% ever since this came out."
"7%?" I ask, disgusted.
"7%, of hundreds of thousands," she grins.
"Oh my God," I mutter. I get up slowly to go hug Carly, "you just solved one of my biggest problems. Thank you," I mutter.
"You're welcome. But you need to solve another one." I raise my eyebrows, "You need to go talk to Freddie about what you want to do with the kid." I make a whining noise. "Sam," she says, "I'm serious."
I groan and turn to the door because, even though it sucks, I know she's right.
Okay, thoughts? Sorry it took so long to upload. I just wanted to ask a favor; if, in one of the chapters, I mention something that I have already said in another chapter and I make it sound like it's a new thing, please let me know. Does that make sense? I also wanted to say that I did post those links, but fanfiction distorts them or takes them down or something. If you really want to see it just let me know and I can send them to you. Thanks! Please review (: