Author's Note: I'd just like to thank Miss-Frenchie for beta-ing this chapter! :D And thank you to all my loyal reviewers and lurkers (I'm ON to you!), and more specifically;
4everyoung, Sk8erGal1208, callmecari, starfreak101, colorsofthesky101, james is my boi, Heartsong's Fanfictions, crazy4oliver, carii, kayee.143, envythorn93, strawberrybabecutie, earth-fairy2006, Nature9000, xxMissCutiexx, Half-Ghost, broadwayXaddict, iMIMI37, WritingSia, iHeart Nathan Kress, CrayonsAndSunlight, Seddie4EVER29, tootsieXpopXdiscovery, LORELAI THE COFFEE SLAYER (my one true love xD and very dedicated reviewer who helped me out of my hiatus-worthy slump), Miss-Frenchie (my beta x3), alie, Irishhoney13, staterfs, RhiannonG, 1XTEMPLE of cHEESEX4, ForgottenLovedOne, Taya Anne, zucolover77, babycobweb, Endo-Venom, and last, but definitely not least! Catherine!
Thanks to all of you, I have returned from hiatus and will be continuing on with this story, and remember! The longer your reviews, the happier I am (xD)!
OH, and I am also taking story requests now! For both iCarly and Death Note (if you watch it xD). I will write anything at all! The first one to request a multi-chapter will be getting one, but after that is started, I will only be taking one-two-three-and four shot requests!
Enjoy, Chapter Eight!
Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly or the movie "Just Friends".
Seven Hundred Fifty Hours
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday (Day 6, 7, 8 & 9)
Chapter Eight:
Frickin' Pranksters!
Freddie Benson
"KILL IT, KILL IT, KILL IT, KILL IT! FREDDIE, KILL IT NOW!" To say I was flustered was a complete and total understatement. I was scared out of my mind. I had been dreaming peacefully about re-routing an electrical curcuit, and then Sam starts screaming like a banshee!
What did I do to deserve this? I sulked, running upstairs quickly, searching for the sight of the screams. They led me into Sam's room, the one place where I was treading on thin ice between Sam's privacy. Though, I doubt that was the first thing on her mind, seeing as a daddy long-legs was rearing and ready to pounce onto her.
I swooped into action, fist clenched like a missile detonator was in my hand.
"I got it, I got it!" I shouted, quivering slightly in disgust at the smushed arachnid that was now lying on the flat of my palm. Sam's expression told me she was about five seconds away from vomitting. She made gagging motions and noises, so I rushed to the bathroom to wash off the remnants.
When I returned, Sam was shivering, her skin a deathly pale color.
"Jeez, Sam, you're such a wimp." I chuckled quietly at her, giving a teasing smile. She rose from her position on the bed, tackling me to the ground.
"You'll regret saying that, Fredward." I raised my once-contaminated hand at her and she flew across the room, away from me.
"That'll take some getting used to," She muttered, trying to regain a normal breathing pattern.
I laughed, until I noticed the giant red blood stain that took up the entire one side of the bed.
"What in God's name...?" I said while standing up from my position on the floor. Sam stood up as well.
"I, uh...bled. In my sleep. Heh." I merely pinched my nose and stared at the red puddle.
"Crap."
--
Sam and I had (carefully) gotten the sheets down the stairs (there were a lot of them, apparently Sam's mother had planned for this to happen, since it "always does" as Sam said, and it "always sinks into the mattress pad if there aren't enough". Eugh.) and the grandfather clock had struck one in the afternoon. I was tired beyond all recognition, so we quickly jammed all of sheets into the giant washer and dumped in what was left of the laundry detergent.
I would have laughed as Sam uncomfortably waddled up the stairs with a giant red stain on the back of her shorts and dried blood stuck to the backs of her legs, if it weren't for the fact that it smelled absolutely horrid, and looked like a murder scene.
As soon as she had gotten out of the shower and put on some clothes, breakfast had been consumed and she was now relaxing at the dining room table watching "Just Friends" and painting her toes with pale pink polish, her feet propped up on the wooden arm of her chair.
She snickered as Mike tazered Samantha and she flipped over the balcony at the mall scene, and I rolled my eyes.
"Why do you do that to your nails?" I wondered out loud, gesturing to the polish. "It looks like you stepped in paint."
Sam shrugged, "That's what Harper said, too. I dunno, I just like it. He said guys don't mind pale colors, since it's pretty, yet not obnoxious." She nodded, almost confirming this to herself.
"Yeah, totally."
I folded my legs up, perched on the chair like a bird.
"So..."
"So..." She repeated, twisting the cap back onto the nail polish jar with a resounding "squeak!". She turned to look at me, her feet falling to the floor.
"Wanna go to the mall?"
--
And so, Sam and I made a trip to the Seattle Centre Mall, where every store you pass by gets girlier and girlier.
"This was the worst idea ever..." I muttered to myself as I was dragged into yet another lipgloss emporium.
"Yeah, it was, for you." Sam replied, giggling to herself. I glared at the back of her head.
"Hey, do you have any money?"
I blinked, looking over to see Sam gazing longingly at some girly sparkly lipgloss. I shuddered.
"Ah, why? You don't plan on stealing it?" I asked seriously, because you really never know with Sam.
"Nope." She said, turning around and walking back to where I was leaning against a railing, swirling a gumball in my mouth that I had gotten from a crank machine.
"Not to say that I don't approve of you finally paying for something-" I said as I handed her the money. Even if it's with my money. "-but it seems you've gone soft, dear Samantha."
She whipped around to look at me, her eyes ablaze.
"'Soft'?" She repeated, looking appauled.
I nodded.
She glared at me as she slammed the money down for the lipgloss, scaring the living daylights out of the woman at the register. The woman handed Sam her change and she forcefully shoved it into my pocket as we exited the store I now knew as "Shop Gloss".
"I have not gone soft." She muttered, glaring hatefully at a plastic plant that we passed by. She unscrewed the cap of her new cherry-scented, pale white lipgloss, and applied a thin sheen of it over her lips. Even if I didn't know why, I watched this unconscious move attentively.
"I bet you can't even get in trouble anymore." I said thoughtfully, still eyeing her lips. Her eyes narrowed even further.
"I can too." She hissed.
"Wanna bet?"
Her malicious frown turned into a malicious smile, and I shuddered. What have I done?
"I bet you couldn't get in trouble even once this week."
"And I bet I could!"
"Then what're the stakes?"
"Hmm...Loser dresses up as the opposite gender for an entire day at school. No changing."
My jaw dropped, but I shook her hand anyway.
"Deal."
I just set myself up to lose!
--
By the time we arrived back at Sam's house, our stomachs were grumbling forcefully, so we worked together to cook dinner. The grandfather clocked donged six times.
"So..." I started, breathing in the delicious smell of the steaming lamb liver. "Why are we making liver?"
"Because it's high in iron, which I am dizzily-" She swayed a bit and I caught her, and her point, "-deficient in after this morning's blood bath."
I nodded, convinced. "Alright." I was happy for the period-blood smell to have been perished, both by the steaming liver's distinct smell, and the febreeze I had practically dumped all over Sam's room and the entire house.
"You don't mind?" She asked, swallowing a pill for her headache.
"Nope," I sighed, "it was liver night tonight at my house, anyway."
She laughed and went back to her cooking.
--
Day Seven
Samantha Puckett
"So, it's like, our one week anniversary." I said conversationally, examining my newly-painted nails.
Freddie sputtered, "Our what?" He asked me, his eyes resembling a deer in headlights.
"Our one week anniversary."
"For?"
"For when you first started babysitting me."
A look of realization passed across his face and he grinned, "Yeah, I guess it is."
I nodded, "You're also going to lose this bet."
He rolled his eyes, "I kind of figured that, seeing as you're the school's top prankster."
He saluted, confirming it.
"True, true. I'll have this school up in flames by Friday."
He blinked, "Today's Wednesday."
I smirked.
"Exactly," and gave him a peck on the lips, to which he leaned closer to me, wanting more, but I denied it.
"And by the way," I whispered, "happy anniversary."
--
Freddie Benson
She was right.
By the end of the day, the fire-alarm had already been pulled, a bucket filled with ice cold guacamole had fallen onto Miss. Briggs, live worms were found crawling around in Elizabeth Wheeler's locker, the microwave in the teacher's lounge had caught fire (but that was a weekly thing), the halls had been waxed crazy and everyone slipped and slid across the floors, papers flying everywhere.
And Sam had been caught at every scene, except for the locker-thing and the microwave-thing
When she arrived home (three hours after the time she usually gets back from school), she explained to me (while I was watching the Technology channel) that she had gotten two weeks detention and In-School-Suspension for the rest of the week.
"Wow." Was all I could say, and we turned back to the television screen without another word.
--
Day Eight
Sam's parents had come home last night, cheery as ever and giving Sam big hugs and kisses as they arrived. Little did they know, Sam was in alot of trouble.
Today, Sam made sure to prank every single teacher. Every. Single. One.
It did not end well.
"'Samantha'," Sam mimicked Principal Franklin when she arrived home, once again three hours later than usual. "'Because of your unusual prank-streak these past two days, I'm going to have to ban you from the dance.'"
I stared at her, "You're banned from the dance?"
She nodded, "But I'm going anyway."
"Do you even have a date?"
"Rodney."
I frowned. This was not good.
Day Nine
Samantha Puckett
On Friday, I got some news that was definitely not good. Not good at all.
"Samantha," Said my dad, and I noticed the new-found authority in his voice sounded eerily similar to that of Principal Franklin's, "you are in big trouble."
And frankly, I didn't doubt it.
"I don't think this babysitter is working out, darling."
I stared at my parents, unblinking. Freddie isn't going to be my babysitter anymore?
I felt a smile start on my face, Freddie won't be my babysitter anymore!
"We're going have to move on to the new one."
I frowned. New one?
My eyes widened, though very slightly.
Oh...
"We're calling Rodney Sullivan. He hasn't gotten into any trouble at all this year, and he saved you from that boy on the bus!"
Oh.
Frick.
End of Chapter Eight, my darlings! :D
Hope you enjoyed. Please R&R!