Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly

Check out my fanpage for this story …

Author's Note: "I lie to myself all the time, but I never believe me." I actually a quote from The Outsiders (My favorite book) by S.E. Hinton, but I used it here. I guess it's kind of me saying I don't own it…

Two Days Later

I wasn't dumb, I knew the pregnancy symptoms. However, I also knew that there are other reasons you might be throwing up a lot, or missing your period, or feeling bloated, like your stomach was full of air. Mood swings too. The queasiness. Cravings. I know there are other reasons for that.

I told myself that. I lie to myself tons of times, but usually… I don't believe me.

"Pickle juice and oatmeal?" Freddie asked, waiting for the "just kidding".

I just nodded. I wanted pickle juice and oatmeal. More than anything right now, it even sounded better than ham.

"You're joking." He looked disgusted.

"Freddie get me it or I'll get it myself!" I said.

"Fine, get it youself." Freddie shrugged, and smiled.

I frowned, and stormed to the fridge, "I'm your girlfriend you should get me things."

"Sam, I'm not a slave."

I was about to come back with something smart, but then stopped. I glared at him, and took out a jar of pickles. I dumped the pickles out and got a straw. And some oatmeal.

Freddie looked over at me, first in disgust, then in annoyance, "Sam, no offence, but you are really moody. And what's with the weird cravings…?"

"Listen, I'm not here to listen to you insult me."

He looked over to me, and looked concerned.

"What?" I asked.

"I would feel a lot better… if you went to the doctors." He said slowly.

"Look, Freddie-" His eyes were practically begging, "Sure…" I gave in. It wasn't just for him, though. There was part of me that knew it would lift a whole lot of stress off my chest, I just didn't admit it to myself.

I never liked the doctor, since that one time they nearly choked me by jabbing a stick down my throat, and for what! I didn't even have strep! I just didn't want to go to school! After that I always had to remind myself never to fake being sick again.

Freddie offered to take me to the doctor, but I told him it was okay.

"Sam Puckett." A high-pitched nurse's voice called. I got up and followed her. It was awkward being in a doctor's office. It would be even if I were with someone. It's weird.

She led me into a room painted light green. It had one of those charts that show you how some candies look like medicine. I already didn't like this.

After a few minutes a doctor came in. Thank goodness it was a girl.

"Hi Sam, I'm doctor Weinstien. What's wrong with you today?"

"I... have been throwing up for a few weeks, and for the past few days I've been pretty dizzy, and my stomach feels like it's full of air."

"Bloated…" She said, mostly to herself, "Well, those are definitely the symptoms of pregnancy." She was writing what I had said down onto a clipboard. I quickly looked anywhere but at her. The sink in the corner seemed very interesting right now.

"Have you had sexual intercourse recently?"

This could be the answer to my whole problem. I just had to say yes. Say yes, don't like, and she can tell me all she knows. But the problem was, maybe I was worried about what she thought of me. What if she judges me?

I never cared about people judged me before. The way I acted, dressed, ate… but this was different.

There was a lump in my throat, "No…" Oh, why! They are doctors, Sam! They deal with this all the time; you have to be honest here. Gosh, I'm so stupid!

"No?"

"Wait, yes." I fixed it, and let out a deep breath.

The doctor looked at me with a confused little smile, "So, yes? Are you sure?"

I got red, looked down, "Yeah. I did."

She didn't say anything at first, but then asked, "Did you take a pregnancy test?"

"Yeah," I looked up, "It said negative."

"Sometimes, home pregnancy tests aren't always accurate. Did you accidently damage it?"

My heart beat just a little fast. I didn't think much of it at all when I dropped the stick. I didn't know that it can affect the result, but now looking back, I was really dumb.

I stuttered, "W-well, yeah. I was nervous… and it slipped from my hand. I didn't think that it would affect anything." My voice was hesitant, and I probably sounded scared stiff. I was.

I knew what was going to happen. I had all the symptoms; I just tried to push them to the back of my mind. Sometimes, I can't accept the truth. Maybe, maybe I've know all this time. Maybe I knew what it meant, maybe I knew, but I just didn't want to. Maybe I just pretended I didn't know.

"It can. It most likely did. Look, we're going to have you take a urine pregnancy test to determine whether you are pregnant or not. I'll be right back." She said, and left.

My hands were shaking, and I felt like I was going to be sick. My face got hot, and I considered running out of the office right then. I didn't want to hear the words. If I don't hear them, they're not true.

She came back to get me and do the test. Which was, by the way, very gross.

I was taking deep breaths. I couldn't help it. My breath shook. I'm a teenager. The only think I should be worried about is grades, friends, zits, college, and family. Not being pregnant. What will I do?

I'm not keeping it, that's definite. I'm not getting an abortion, either. I couldn't. Ever.

What about school, though?-

"Sam, I have your results. You are pregnant." I almost didn't hear her.

"What? Are you sure? Are you sure those are right? Are there any other tests?"

Like I said, I can't accept the truth.

She held her clipboard to her chest, "Sam, I can assure you that these results are accurate. If you want to be sure though, we can take blood."

Then do it, I told her. The results came back positive.

I was pregnant. No. I wasn't. I'm not pregnant; I know I'm not.

The lady started saying how I was a few weeks along, it would have been better if I came earlier, but it was still okay. Some other things she said too. Things that I couldn't keep up with because I was stuck in my own thoughts. Some things about an ultrasounds or sonogram.

"Do I have to do those?" I said, real quiet like.

She looked upset now because she can tell I was, "Sam, yes. So you we know how far along you are and if the baby is healthy. You don't want too see your baby?"

I shook my head, "No." I was trying so hard not to break my composer.

The nurse sat down next to me. It was awkward. She seemed to be in an awkward spot, but she put her hand on my shoulder.

"Sam, how old are you?"

"Seventeen." I told her, miserably.

I was waiting for the lecture about responsibility or something but she didn't say anything about that. She wasn't going to make me feel worse.

"So you have some things to think about and decide."

"I know what I'm going to do," I said, harsher than I meant to, "I'm going to give the baby for adoption. I'm 17! I'm not supposed to worry about this! I should be worrying about school, grades, friends, zits… anything but this!"

"Sam, it's going to be okay."

"Well of course you say that! It's probably some rule that you have to tell them that. 'Oh, you have three weeks to live, but it's going to be okay.' Well you know what? It's not going to be okay. I have school to go through. People will be whispering to their friends about me, talking about me, thinking things about me!"

"Can I go now?" I asked when I didn't get a response.

"In a few minutes. We made you an appointment for a ultrasound. I'll check in with you, Sam. Or someone will at least. You won't be going through this by yourself."