The moment you've all been waiting for: the proposal!
Sam's POV
The news of no school made me elated. For an entire week I wouldn't have to stare at Miss Briggs's ugly mug, eat lame-o cafeteria chiz, or work. It was the bomb.
But of course Little Miss Carlotta Shay was pestering me about my "proposal". She kept fantasizing about how my ring would look. Then she'd rummage through her jewelry and force me to try it on so she could see how I looked. And the best part: she was designing my wedding dress.
"Think you should go sleeveless?" she asked, looking up from her sketchpad. She was at the end of the sofa while I was lying down, channel-surfing again. Since most teenagers are stuck in school all day, none of the shows I watched were on; only reruns of classic television, reality shows, or toddler shows. Even the food channel had suckish programs, a terribly bad sign.
"Whatever." I mumbled, not really listening to the words she said.
"Yeah, but if you choose sleeveless then you have to decide between straps and strapless." she said, biting on her pencil, "Whereas sleeves would be a simple choice." I rolled my eyes; who'd she think she was? Tyra Banks or something?
"Fine, sleeves." I muttered. She took her pencil away and pursed her lips, twirling said pencil in her fingers.
"Short or long?" she said, "If it's short, then you'd have to choose puffy or flat. And if long, well, see-through or no? Hmm, decisions, decisions…" I couldn't believe she was wasting so much time on this; I wasn't really getting married. I could wear T-shirts and shorts and it wouldn't matter.
"Carls, why don't you just call for Carson Kressley?" I smirked, "He is the fashion king." She glared at me while still twirling her pencil, and I noticed how chewed-up it looked.
"This is serious!" she said, "You're getting mar—"
"It's not real!" I said, "But fine. You can get me a wedding gown if you shut up about it!" After I said this she pretended to zip up her lips. We nodded and flashed each other a thumbs-up.
My Carrie Underwood ringtone sounded and I flipped open my phone. I heard a nubbish boy's voice on the other side, and my bad day just got worse.
"What is it?" I said, trying to sound pleasantly girlfriend-like though I didn't want to talk to him. The night before still played in my mind like a bad movie. Not when he hit the server—when he said it was but an act. I don't know why it bugged me. Duh, it was an act. No way, no how could it be real. But I kept feeling down from it.
"I'd like to take you out for a walk." he said, "Meet me in the park soon, okay?" As if I had a choice, I thought, annoyed. I told Freddie yes and goodbye, and then hung up while standing. Carly looked up as I moved, curious.
"I'm meeting Fredwina at the park." I explained, and she became merrily energized. She hopped up so fast her sketchbook flew into the air along with her pencil, something that unnerved me until I saw it land in a peaceful spot away from my head.
"Ooo, superb! Let me get my camera!" she cried, running to the counter. What…? No! She came running up to me with her camcorder, already recording. I felt compelled to rip the camera right out of her hands and crash it against the wall. I hated the camera on me when I wasn't filming iCarly—if it wasn't iCarly, I felt naked.
"No!" I said, "No cameras!"
"But, Sam!" she yelled, "I need footage, and if I miss the proposal—the proposal—I'll never forgive myself!" I growled at her; she was right. She needed to record this, and especially the proposal, one of the most important milestones. I'd have to allow her to do it, even if it made me angry.
"Fine, but stay out of sight." I demanded. She shrieked in happiness and gave me a fast hug. She yelled "Thank you, Sam!" over and over again until I told her to shut up.
'~**~'
Carly parked the car by the side of the road. I craned my neck as she did to see if I could spot a familiar boy but I saw none. Freddie was nowhere in sight, and that disgruntled me. I wanted the chiz over with so I wouldn't have to stare at him any longer than necessary.
I hurried out of the car and looked around again: still no sign of him. I noticed Carly was still in the car, looking at me like I'd done something wrong.
"Where is he?" she asked.
"I don't know!" I said, "Just stay in the car. When I find him we'll…" I scanned my horizon: there was a playground, a bunch of trees, and then a white-painted bench by a shady maple. It was perfect. I continued to Carly: "When you see us there, you can start recording." She nodded giddily, checking her camera for footage already shot. I then left her alone in pursuit of Freddork.
There was a long dirt path around the park. Imprints of feet dotted the trail. There were so many footprints it was hard to tell who was going where and how many there were. I knew that Freddie had a men's 9 shoe size, so I squatted to measure. Mine was a woman's 7, so I compared it to the freshest-looking footprint; they appeared close, so I went forward, where the footprints led.
Dozens of people were about. Mostly were families but there were a few couples around too. They looked so joyful together, smiling and hugging and (no chiz) kissing. I may not seem like a romantic but sometimes I fantasized of having my own guy holding me in his arms. I rarely ever had a boy who I could depend on to protect me and be nice to me, 'cept for…somebody.
Okay, yes, Freddie.
Speaking of which, I'd been walking awhile with my eyes glued to the ground. When a voice cut through the air it was unexpected and frightening, at first.
"Sam." it said. I whirled around, my fists up. I was ready to punch anyone who was trying to kidnap me or something. I'd taken numerous karate classes when I was young; I was ready for action. But the one who uttered my name raised his arms in surrender, backing away as far out of reach of my fist as he could get. Upon seeing him, I put my hands back in gratitude and said "Hey, Freddie." Freddie grinned at me and walked closer, knowing I wasn't going to hit him right then.
"Ready for that walk?" he asked. I shrugged.
"How 'bout we go sit at that bench there?" I replied, pointing to said bench. He shook his head, a smirk playing on his face. Confused, I asked him why not.
"'Cause that's where a pretty little brunette will be waiting," he whispered, "I want to be alone." I didn't get why being alone mattered to him but I decided to go along—I didn't want the "pretty little brunette" recording us either.
He roped his arm with mine and we walked along the musty dirt trail. I felt…comfortable with him by my side. After watching all the idyllic couples with one another, I felt strangely cold and lonesome. All the girls I saw were arm-in-arm with some dude. It made me feel left out of something grand—which I think I was—and then being with Freddie made me feel, I don't know…better.
We soon arrived at the other end of the park where another bench was awaiting our arrival. However, it was by the playground I mentioned, so a bunch of kiddos were running about and screaming their heads off. Not a really quixotic atmosphere but it was better than being filmed from the bushes.
Freddie unwound our arms and we sat on the bench. Children kept running around near us, yelling incomprehensible things and their mothers gave us apologetic glances. But I ignored the squeaks of the kids and paid all my attention to Fredwad.
He shifted nervously, wringing his hand together. I saw a lump in his left pocket and I could feel myself grow somehow excited. He didn't make a move for the you-know-what and that somehow made me upset. I wanted the boy to get on it, and fast too.
"Sam…" he said quietly, so quiet I had to lean closer to hear, "I've…enjoyed the time spent with you these years and I love…it. It's been one crazy, wild ride hanging with you, and being with you. Our lives together, though, were based upon a game.
"Sixth grade was when we met and we've hated each other since then. But was it real hate? Or just a game we played and keep playing, because we were afraid to stop playing it?" My heart began to beat furiously in my chest cavity. The way he went about saying this made me anxious and eager for more. I told myself to stop getting to excited because the proposal was fake but my heart just kept pumping faster.
He stood from the bench, his hand moving to mine. He held my fingers lightly against his palm but I still felt like he was squeezing them with all his might. As he rubbed his thumb along my hand, he got down on bended knee. My heart stopped beating—instead it hopped up to my throat.
"Sam," he said, reaching with his other hand to grab the box, "I…I…I love you more than I ever, ever dreamed I could. And I don't want to lose you. I love you, Sam. I need you. I'll protect you forever, because you need me. And I need you." The box was in his hand now. He took his first hand off mine and placed his fingers on the top. Slowly, he opened it to reveal a stunning silver ring. Its edges were jagged and the middle was encrusted with purple—or amethyst—jewels. It was beautiful and it took my breath away to think of how much dough he paid for a fake engagement.
"Sam Puckett," he whispered, "will you…w-will y-y-you…marry me?" I looked up from the ring and into his chocolate eyes: they were strangely wet and sparkled as the sunlight hit the water. I found my own ocean-colored eyes were watery too.
"Y-Yes," I whispered, "I'll marry you." His grin was weak after I said this, but joyous to. I don't know what compelled me to do it, but I jumped from the bench and into his arms, pressing my mouth on his.
He was shocked, as was I, at what I had done. But neither of us pulled back from that blissful kiss. We stayed there together, in the other's arms, kissing, until an "Ewww!" chorused around us. We pulled back to see some seven-year-olds with their tongues out, their faces contorted in heavy revulsion. Freddie laughed as their mothers apologized and lectured them about "making rude noises".
The two of us, still chuckling at the children, sat back down on the bench. I held the ring's box in my hand. I gazed at it with surprise and wonderment before extracting it. It felt slick in my hand. In a careful movement, I placed it on my third finger, left hand. I must say it made me feel so complete to put it around that finger. I all of a sudden felt like a beautiful woman, not an okay-looking teenage girl.
I turned to look at Freddie to see him smiling at me. I didn't notice his hand around my shoulders until I looked at him. I gave him back a smile. There was no awkwardness between us after that kiss. I was still content with him, and he appeared the same with me.
"Cute kids, weren't they?" I joked. He sniggered, his face twisting in a—dare I say it—handsome way.
"Yeah." he said, "At least it wasn't caught on tape." I nodded as I too laughed. It was relieving to know the shebang wouldn't be recorded and posted for the entirety of the world to see—
"Think again!" a cheery voice yelled as a head popped between us. Freddie and I jumped away in surprise, and he fell onto his back off the bench. The kids who had been revolted by us were now pointing and laughing. I glared at Carly; how the heck had she known we'd be at the playground? !
"What the chiz?" I asked, "How'd you know we were here?" She gazed at the sky with a look of innocence that screamed "Fake" and said "Because I've known you for years—you think I wouldn't know you'd try to outsmart me?" I had to give the girl credit; if she could outsmart one of the most intelligent geeks in Washington, along with the most cunning of Seattle girls, she deserved a medal.
"Great," Freddie muttered, staggering to stand, "now she's Sam 2.0. This is just dandy." I gave him a teasing punch as he sat and Carly beamed. She hopped over the bench and scooted between us, somewhat annoying me for her being closer to Freddork.
"So," she said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "who to invite to the wedding?"