Freddie's POV
The afternoon sun was beginning to edge closer and closer to the ground. The moon would appear soon, and I'd get to see it, because I didn't have anything else to do. I was sitting in my room—like I'd been doing for about five hours—and the only form of entertainment I had were books I'd already read seven times over and a television set with the worst reception. Darn my mom. Not only did she embarrass me (again), but she sentenced me to exile with lousy entertainment and dirty pants. She'd have fun washing my clothes when I went on iCarly and got paint on me; that is, if I ever left the house again.
I punched the TV for the fifth time, trying to get the picture to stop looking so fuzzy, but Matthew Morrison still looked like Patrick Swayze. You couldn't tell if it was Glee or Dirty Dancing…or Spongebob Squarepants.
The sound of my ringtone was louder than the sound of my TV. I took it out of my pants pocket and held it to my ear, hoping it was good news.
"Hello?" I said. An incoherent whisper came from the other end. I think it said my name and it appeared to be a female.
"We're coming to get you out!" continued the whisper. It began to sound like Carly as the words became more coherent. After processing her rushed sentence, I became excited. But how would they be able to get me out without alerting Mom?
"How?" I asked.
"Well, Sam…we thought…fire escape…er…" she said, "And, um…I-I'm not sure entirely." I sighed; how in the world could she not know? It must've been a weird idea of Sam's if Carly was going to do it and not even know. Normally I'd refuse an idea from Sam but I was desperate.
"Fine," I mumbled, "but I hope it works." It didn't comfort me much when, as I hung up, I heard a "Me too".
That night I waited by my window. Carly had called back saying to stay by the fire escape window, because Sam would be there soon enough. It was a tad confusing but I agreed nonetheless. In case my mom checked on me (like she does twenty-seven times a night. Yes, that's an accurate number), I stuffed my extra pillows under the sheets and put my Galaxy Wars helmet on top of the pillow at the head of my bed, and covered it with the blanket. It looked convincing, and I hoped Mom would buy it.
I peered over the ledge of the fire escape: nothing but whizzing cars and darkness. I cursed and went to sit back in my lawn chair. It was hard to think of how Sam was going to rescue me, considering I was high up in the sky (eight floors high) and she'd never be able to come into my apartment. Mom would kill her, no doubt about that. What shocked me was that Sam was willing to help me. Wouldn't she just let me be stuck until I told my mother the truth, and then she'd win? Apparently Sam's a much better person than that. The idea made me grin.
My cell rang again. I picked it up and answered. Sam's voice crackled on the other end: "Get ready, Freddilupe. Time for action." I replied with a yes and hung up. I stood up from my seat and waited for Sam to appear. It was weird to be standing on the fire escape when surely Sam would pick the lock to my apartment—
Suddenly a giant iron grappling hook came out of the air and fastened itself onto the edge of the fire escape. I stared, bewildered, at it, wondering how in the world it had fallen. I ran to look into the abyss of downtown Seattle and who do I see but Sam climbing up.
"What the he—" I began to say when Sam climbed over and into my abode. She smirked at my dumbstruck expression and went into her pockets. As she did so she spoke to me:
"How you doing, Freddumb?" She withdrew a pair of gloves and tossed them to me. I caught them but didn't put them on; instead I held them as I gazed at Sam in befuddlement.
"What the H-E-double-hockey-sticks is going on?" I asked, "Why did you use a hiking rope to climb eight floors up here?"
"What, you wanted to rot up here all your life?" Sam responded sardonically, "My Uncle Carmine owns a wilderness survival store in Baltimore. He gave me a shipment of junk like this. Had to use it sometime, right?"
"You're loco." I said. She punched my arm and I stumbled back for it hurt very much. Sam could pack a punch. But I knew I had to agree or else I'd be trapped in the house I was condemned to. Even if the way Sam had come up to get me was totally insane and suicidal!
I told her that I agreed, and she gave me another smirk. "Good." was what she said. "Now get your gloves on so you don't slip off." She didn't have to tell me twice—I whipped those suckers on faster than Jesse Owens ran in the Olympics. After I had them on Sam showed me how to climb.
"Be calm and careful," she said, "You can't afford to slip up. And whatever you do, do not look down." I nodded, a nervous lump building in my throat. She went over to the edge and stepped onto it. My instinct made me go forward and reach out to grab her. She didn't fall, though; thank goodness. Instead she crouched down and grabbed hold of the rope tight with her gloved fingers. She then swung herself over (my breath caught in my throat) and she disappeared from my view. I looked over the edge in dread, but the blonde had her feet against the brick wall of the apartment building, in perfect condition. Her hands had a death grip on the rope, and I saw beads of sweat begin to fall off her curls.
"I'm gonna go down." she murmured, like one loud word would send her tumbling. "As soon as I'm far enough down, follow." I gulped and nodded. Sam steadily moved down; she put her hands lower on the rope without letting go, and jumped off her feet. She planted them on the wall again after, very fast, might I add. She continued to descend and, when she was far enough down, I climbed too.
It was over pretty quickly. It was a blur after I squatted on the edge of the fire escape, clutched the rope, and swung myself over. But the hard part was moving lower after getting situated. Questions ran through my head: What if I slip? What if I let go? What if my legs bang against metal? It made me shudder.
"Hurry, Freddie!" Sam shouted. She was barely audible over the sounds of car honks and stressed-out drivers' yells but I heard her. Her voice shook, something it never ever did. She sounded afraid. Huh. I could've sworn Sam feared nothing. I guess everyone fears death.
"Okay!" I hollered back, and hoped she heard me over the Seattle streets' noise. I breathed deep and dropped my hands on the rope. It rubbed against the thick gloves' exterior; I was thankful I had them on. After situating my fingers, I sucked it up and pushed off.
In but a second I had my feet back on the wall, only farther down. It was easy to move—easier than I expected. The sole hard part was not being scared. Which I was, and Sam too, though that was impossible.
We kept moving down the same way: lower hands, push off, and repeat. I kept playing Sam's voice over in my head: "Be calm and careful. You can't afford to slip up. And whatever you do, do not look down." So I breathed deeply before and after every move and, though it was hard, refused to look down. I felt the need to look over my shoulder to check on Sam, to see how she was holding up. I knew I couldn't; it would be a mistake to check up on a girl (who could take care of herself) and end up stuck, terrified to go down.
"You're almost to the end!" Sam cried, piercing the quietness. Although there was clamor from the road, there was a silence between Sam and me without the other speaking. It spooked me a minute when she screamed.
I took the risk and looked down: just a few more jumps and I'd safely be on the ground. Sam was already there, gazing up at me. I became gutsy then, and hopped down without stopping. I was dizzy after I jumped to the ground and staggered, almost falling. I didn't, though, and straightened up to stare an impressed-looking Sam staring back at me.
"Wow." she said, "Cool. I didn't think you could be so…brave." Her face had a mixture of emotions that I didn't think she could achieve from looking at me: admiring. She admired my bravery. And there was something similar to smitten in her smile. Though I'm quite dashing (sarcasm!), Sam couldn't be even a little smitten with me for my courage. Maybe being a false twosome had changed her feelings somehow. I knew that mine were out-of-wack now.
"Come on, we'll take you to Carlotta's place." she said, taking my hand. A spark flew through my arm at her touch and something popped in my brain. I shivered with the effect her touch. Darn these mixed-up feelings.
The two of us ran around Bushwell Plaza until we reached the front door. Sam turned to me and placed a finger to her lips. I replied to her demand of quiet with a nod, and we entered. Lewbert was sitting at his desk, his head on it. A croaky snore came from him, causing our noses to crinkle in disgust. Drool was also dripping out of the corner of the doorman's mouth, adding to the gross factor that had been established with his cheek wart and foot sore.
We crept towards the stairs when he snorted and lifted his head up. He looked groggy and rubbed his eyes to clear them. After setting his arms down, they bulged at the sight of us. He then let out a girlish screech.
"What're you kids doing in my lobby?" he yelled, "I'm calling your mom, boy!" He pointed a finger at me while the other hand reached for the telephone. He dialed the number and, as he did, Sam took a piece of fruit from the coffee table and threw it at him. It hit him square in the head and he fell out of his chair, and onto the floor. Sam gave a satisfied smirk, grabbed the bowl of fruit, and tugged me to the elevator.
She punched the eighth floor button after we entered. The doors closed and she began to munch on her buffet of fruit. Juice squirted from the apple as she chewed and it was sort of funny. It dribbled down her chin and it was comical while also…cute. I hate to admit it but Sam's attractive. Not my type, but attractive still. I'd never tell her to save my life.
I reached over and rubbed my thumb along her chin. She froze while I wiped the juice off; her features held no emotion whatsoever. I pulled my hand back once I realized what I'd done. I said awkwardly "Sorry. You had some…stuff…"
"S'okay." Sam laughed. A smile lit up her face, causing me to smile too. It was nice to be able to communicate with Sam as a friend since we so rarely did. Always fighting. It got old sometimes but I liked it as well; our fights were a part of us. If we didn't fight, we wouldn't be Sam and Freddie.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened to Carly's apartment. We stepped out and looked around: it was dark in the living room part of the place. Spencer and Carly were no doubt in bed. I walked over to the couch and plopped down. I fluffed the pillows, hoping the couch was comfortable for naps. Sam came over and sat on the arm of the couch to watch me.
I laid down and it felt so wonderful. The couch's coziness eased my back, which had been bent all that time I hiked down the building. I gave a grin Sam's way, and she returned it.
"Well, I ought to go." she said, standing, "Best get my beauty sleep for the wedding." I laughed. She came over to me and ruffled my hair lovingly. "Night, Fredbag." She then went to the door and left.
"Night, Sammy." I whispered to nobody, and then I went to sleep in hopes of having good dreams.