iBegin Again 3

Author Note: So sorry for the long non-update! :O :( Happy New Year, though! :)

It wasn't the same, and that wasn't just because Spencer was...well, a dude.

Going to Build-A-Bra was definately a love that both best friends shared and always would, and she had full intentions are dragging the brunette back the second she got back. It was kind of a tradition between the two, even if it didn't have a specific date they did it on; it was definately special. As she dumped off her bags in her room and flooped back on her bed, Sam couldn't help but remember the first time Carly and she went:

*Cue the flashback*

"Are you really sure this is okay?" nine-year-old Carly asked her best friend hiestantly, and Sam shrugged, rolling her eyes a little.

"I guess so. I mean...it's just a store," she replied, trying to sound confident and not freaked out by all of the different sizes and older ladies everywhere.

"Well, yeah...but still.."

*2 hours later into the flashback*

"Eep!" Carly squealed as she looked at her new pink bra, covered in sparkles and glow in the dark fabric, "I love this place, Sam!"

Sam, in the meantime, was admiring her black one with skulls covering it, "Totally!"

*End the flashback*

Sam now sighed in the present day, slightly longingly. Yeah, those were the days...

Gibby was hysterical. That was his first problem.

Carls was missing. That was his second problem.

His mother hated weasels. That was his third problem.

"Carls!" the tall random yelled, grabbing the small, low wooden-table in front of the couch in the living room and ripping it to the side, nearly taking the techy out, "Carls, where are you buddy?!"

"Gibby!" he shouted to his friend, trying to grab his shoulders, "calm down!"

"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!" the taller shouted in a snap, grabbing the others shoulders and throwing him into said table, "CARLS!"

"Swing low.."

It was pretty evident to anyone near that Spencer was mourning. Well, not nessacary mourning, simply because he was Spencer and mourning would be too boring and possibly ever to easy. But he seriously missed his 'baby sister', and he was now stacking cups slowly, staring at the red color like it was the most interesting color in the world as he sang.

"Red solo cup..."

The second he started singing that, the lamp beside him caught on fire, making him yelp and groan. Every time...

What happened with the cute guy earlier was seriously starting to bother Carly, and not just because it happened with a cute guy.

For some reason, she just couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong with him. As if there was something he was struggling to hide from everybody, but she didn't know why she'd think that...she didn't even know his first name. Even so, it was bugging her, and maybe it was being friends with Sam so long rubbing off, but she wanted to find out exactly what was up with him.

Of course she didn't know how she'd do that, but she wanted to anyway.

"Oops!" she gasped as she walked right into a warm, soft-feeling chest, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going, and-"

She cut herself short when she saw who it was.

Sam simply stared at her phone.

If she was bored, she would always easily go hang out with her best friend. But now that said best friend was gone...well, she didn't really have that many other friends. She buried her face in one of her pillows, groaning loudly and tossing the device to the ground. She felt horrible and like she was good enough for anything; this was a feeling she hadn't truly felt the full effects of for years. Not sense...

Not sense I met Carly.

Something wet ran down her face, much her displeasure. Sniffing once, she stretched out her fingers and studied her cracked nails and scarred knuckles- had they always been that unattractive? She'd never really had a problem being a tomboy and doing what she did, but the mixture of lonliness and sadness stirred these emotions deep inside her chest. Slowly, her eyes drifted to the mirror while her body moved her in front of it.

I'm so ugly...why didn't I realize that early?

To her, her clothes were too baggy, her eyes were too dull, her hair was too tangled and frizzy, and her feet were too big. She felt fat and unattractive; she just stared at her reflection. Subconsciously, she wondered why she was thinking so low of herself when she was usually so confident, but these thoughts were quickly shoved aside. Sniffing once again as another wet streak splattered across her cheek, Sam turned away from the mirror with a horrible feeling deep in the pit of her stomach and insecurity churning in her heart.

This living room will never be the same...Freddie thought as he stared at what his large, muscular friend did.

The intable was thrown carelessly to the side with seemingly ease, the couch was overturned and the pillows were everywhere, popcorn and chips littered the ground, and soda stained the white carpet. Trash was everywhere and there was a large crack in the TV screen; it was horrifying, especially to the son of Mrs. Benson.

"Carls..." Gibby was unfazed, on the other hand, as he cradled his pet.

"Good grief, man!" Freddie all but yelled, "look what you've done to this room!"

The larger teenager looked alarmed, "What's the problem? I can always clean this up later...the main thing is that Carls is safe."

"He's just a weasel!" the techy complained, facepalming and starting to try and straighten the couch in vain, "this place is a wreck, and if you're mother saw this..."

"Whoah," Gibby rose and set his pet on his shoulder, "calm down, Benson. It's fine, this has happened before...don't worry about it."

"Too late for that!"

"Dude," the short-haired male took a step back, looking horrified, "you sound like your mom."

Making a disgusted face, Freddie just stalked out, steaming. He couldn't really explained why it was getting under his skin so much out of all times, but the fact it was just seemed to fuel his new fire more. He wanted to punch something...