Chapter 10: Stuck on You

Disclaimer: I was going to leave out a disclaimer here, but I didn't want you to think that, despite not owning iCarly for the previous nine chapters, that I somehow own it for this one.

Day 5

"Sam, wait up!"

She turned to see Freddie jogging down the hall toward her. "Fredward."

"So, are you feeling better, uh, after..."

"My menstrual issues?" She grinned as his face seemed to turn from red to pale and back again.

"Uh, yeah," Freddie said, weakly.

"I'm just goin' with the flow, Freddie," she said, laughing.

Freddie decided a change of subject was in order. "So do you have anything planned for today?"

"No," she said. "Ted's got his goons keeping an eye on me, so I decided to lay low until next week. Give everybody else a chance to play catch up, let 'em think they actually have a hope."

"Okay. I know we got iCarly tonight, but I think we should at least spend a little time on the tutoring. Carly did an okay job..."

"You checked up on Carly, Freddie?"

"Well, yeah, what she does affects how my performance as a tutor is perceived," he said.

"Fine, Freddie, but I don't want to do it tonight. Give me a break."

Okay, we don't have to do it tonight. We can do it during study hall."

"Freddie, you're not supposed to talk in study hall," she said.

"And yet you do it all the time. So we don't go to study hall. We'll skip."

Sam stared at him. "Who are you, and what have you done to Freddie?"

"Sam,, the teacher never takes roll."

"Fine. Meet me in the normal place."

2

The normal place was an empty classroom on the second floor. Over the previous two years, two teachers who had taught in that classroom had gone...a little batty. Sam happened to be in their classes at the time, although she felt it was unfair to contribute all the blame to her. She was sure they had been a little batty already before they met her.

The classroom had gotten a bit of a reputation, and all the teachers refused to teach in it. For the time being, it was empty of students and full of supplies.

After they had been going over her English assignment for a while, they decided to take a break. Freddie didn't bother to tutor her in Algebra. He realized she was just as good at math as he was. All he did was ensure she had done her homework.

"So was...your issue...the only reason you and Carly were huddled together yesterday?"

"What?" she asked. Surely Carly wouldn't have broken her promise. "Why? Did Carly say something?"

"No," he said. "What would she have to say?"

"Nothing, I just don't like my health issues being discussed."

"Don't lie to me, Sam. You delighted in talking to me about it earlier, just because you liked seeing me squirm," he said, not looking at her.

"Are you calling me a liar, nub?"

"Well, that's sort of implied by 'don't lie to me, Sam,'" he said, mockingly.

She stood up and got in his face. Well, several inches below his face. "Don't call me a liar."

He looked down at her. Why do we keep ending up in kissing distance? he thought. He decided to push. "Liar."

Sam was about to retort when people came into the room. Not came into the room. Stormed. Freddie and Sam weren't even able to react before it was too late. Freddie, who had been facing the door, had time to wonder why the people were wearing ski masks, and then it was over. The people-Freddie thought there had been five of them, and by their dress and body shape, were all guys-were out of the room before either of them fully realized what had happened.

Sam and Freddie's bodies were touching, and their faces were mere inches from each other. And they were stuck together by many layers of duct tape.

3

"Hey, Carly, my sweet," Gibby said.

"Gibby," Carly said. She had decided to just accept Gibby's random compliments and endearments. She wasn't dating anybody at the moment, and at least Gibby was making her feel good about herself. "You haven't seen Sam or Freddie, have you?"

"Nope, not since Sam in English."

"I can't believe Sam is missing lunch," Carly said. For a moment, she thought it might be possible that Sam had told Freddie how she felt. She couldn't see how that would happen, though. Unless she was beating them up, Sam was very shy around boys she liked. And Sam had been so insistent that Freddie not know anything about her feelings.

"Gibby, you and Freddie are friends, right? I mean, you guys talk guy stuff, right?"

"I guess, sometimes, my little turtle dove," Gibby said.

"Does he ever talk to you about girls?" she asked.

Gibby paused in the process of biting into his sandwich. "Uh, why do you ask?"

"I don't know. I was just wondering."

"He doesn't like you anymore," Gibby said, quickly.

"He said that to you?"

"No, guys just have this special communication, like mind-reading," he said. "Good one, Gibby."

"Gibby, you realize you said that out loud, right?"

"Said what?"

"Never mind. So, not counting me, does Freddie ever mention any girls?"

"Not specifically. I mean, a girl did ask him out last week, but he said he couldn't, because he was too busy. She was pretty." He looked guilty. "Not as pretty as you, of course."

"Who was she?"

"Uh, Laura something. I think she's a cheerleader."

The only cheerleader named Laura that Carly knew was Laura Thomas. Not only was she a cheerleader, she was a member of the National Honor Society. And a Galaxy Wars fan (Carly had found this out when she had gone to a slumber party Laura had been at, and a game of truth-or-dare had revealed that secret). Freddie had passed up a date with what would appear to be his dream girl, because he was too busy. And yet he was now spending almost all his time with Sam. Maybe Sam isn't the only one who's been hiding some feelings, she thought. She wondered what she could do to find out. She had to be careful, because if she was wrong about Freddie, then Sam would be heartbroken. And mad at Carly.

Gibby, mistaking Carly's silence, said, "you really are the prettiest girl in the school."

Carly blushed.

4

"This is all your fault."

"I got that the first five times you said that, Sam."

They were not looking at each other. Sam's field of vision when she looked at Freddie was from his chest to his head. His cologne suited him, she thought, and blushed for thinking that.

Freddie looked at the ceiling, and thought, she smells like strawberries. He decided he needed to think of something else-baseball, rats, Gibby rubbing lotion on Spencer...okay, that did it.

They looked at each other at the same time.

"Are you looking down my shirt, Benson?"

"No!" And then he felt his eyes move involuntarily. He shut them. "Don't say that!"

"You're a pervert."

"I am not. You brought it up."

"Whatever, pervert," she said. She decided it was better to harass him than think too much about how they were touching. She could feel his hands near her hips. Wait.

"Freddie, do you think anybody else comes here?"

She felt him shake his head, then stop quickly. "Uh, no, I think we're the only ones who ever use it."

"So we have to get out ourselves. Okay, I have a Swiss Army knife on my key chain. You need to reach it."

"Sam, you're not supposed to have them at school."

"Well, it's a good thing I do, isn't it? Now, get it." He is so frustrating.

"Can't you reach it?"

"No, your hands are blocking mine. You're closer." Freddie sighed, and for several minutes they shivered and shrugged together.

"That's not my pocket, Freddie."

"Oh." He angled his hand away quickly. "Okay, I think I got it."

He pulled her key chain out, and she moved her hand toward him. Together they were able to pull the blade open.

"Careful," Freddie said. Sam started cutting through the tape. It took them about twenty minutes before they had cut through enough that they were able to start using their hands. Luckily, most of the tape was on their clothes, although Freddie did lose some arm hair.

"Who did this?" Freddie asked.

"Oh, I know who did it."

5

"Steve Phillips!"

The boy in question physically recoiled, but he planted a smile on his face. He was standing in a group of five boys.

"Hey, Sam, what's up? You look like you've been a little tied up with something."

Sam pulled her arm back, and Freddie grabbed it. He bent down to her ear. "You can't, Sam, you'll get expelled."

Steve smirked. "So Ridgeway's number one prankster got pranked. I think that has to be worth quite a few points."

Sam was about to ignore the whole expulsion issue when Freddie said, "what's he talking about, Sam?"

She turned to look at Freddie. He raised his eyebrows at her. "I don't know," she said, hesitantly. She wasn't sure where Freddie was going with this, but she was going to follow his lead. For the moment.

"What are you trying to say, Benson?" Steve said, and Sam was glad to see his smirk had withered away.

"Well, it seems like you're saying somebody pranked Sam, but she's been with me. We've been studying English."

No, no...we duct-taped you guys."

"Duct tape?" Sam asked. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Steve reached out and touched Freddie's arm. He wasn't quite brave enough to do the same to Sam. "His arm's sticky."

Freddie nodded. "Yeah, Sam got bored and attacked me with super glue."

"I have witnesses," Steve said.

"Well, as long as they're not your friends, I guess I can listen to them," Sam said. "They're not your friends, are they?"

Steve slumped, and his friends mumbled. "Wait, you don't have any proof that you were the one who shocked everybody in those classrooms."

"Funny you would say that, Steve," she said, and pulled her phone out of her back pocket. She brought the video up and showed it to him.

Sam handed her phone to Freddie and grabbed Steve's shirt. Freddie saw Steve make a gesture to another boy, who took off. Freddie stepped back a few steps, out of the view of Steve's friends.

"Now, if somebody were to have pulled a prank on me, I think that person might want to think about whether or not they want to end up singing soprano. Do you like to sing, Steve?" Sam asked.

"Not particularly, no," Steve said, trying to keep his voice steady and failing.

"That's good," Sam said.

"Sam," Freddie said, and pointed down the hallway. Steve's friend was leading Principal Franklin to them. Sam released Steve.

"What's going on here?" Principal Franklin asked.

"Just having a friendly conversation."

"She's the one who shocked everybody yesterday," Steve said. "She has a video on her phone."

Sam gasped. She couldn't believe Steve would rat out another member of the Detention Posse. But it didn't matter; she was screwed. She looked at Freddie.

He handed her phone to her. "Show him, Sam."

Principal Franklin reached down and pulled the phone from her hand. He tried to access it, but her password screen came up.

"Sam," Principal Franklin said, with real regret in his voice. She knew there was nothing to be done. As soon as he saw the video, she was gone. She put her password in, and Principal Franklin went to the media section. He stared for a moment, then began laughing.

"What's so funny?" Steve said, fuming.

"That is one crazy cat," Principal Franklin said, showing the phone to Steve. On the phone was a video of Sam's cat, Frothy, attacking a package of ham.

"That's not the right video," Steve said.

"It's the only video on there," Principal Franklin said. "Please don't accuse people of things without proof, Mr. Phillips." He turned to Sam and Freddie. "Mr. Benson, it appears your right arm is slightly bald. Is there a reason for that?"

"I was thinking of joining the cycling team, but then changed my mind partway through shaving," Freddie said. Sam suppressed a laugh. Principal Franklin stared at him and sighed.

"I had so hoped you would be the one influencing her, not the other way around," he said. He shook his head and walked away. Steve and his friends skulked off.

Sam turned to Freddie. "What did you do?"

"I just sent your video to my mail account and then removed it from your phone," he said, shrugging.

"Wait a minute. How did you get into my phone?"

"LIke I wouldn't know your password, Sam," he said, smiling. She looked at him for a moment, and then smiled back.

"Thanks, Freddie." She thumped him on the head, not hard.

"What was that for?"

"For missing my pocket. Pervert!"

A/N:

Thanks for reviews from: PurpleJerkWarrior, Moviepal, PurpleJerk, Geekquality, cynthiarox99, WahooPunchPurple, ShooshYeah35, Julefor, Icarlya, SeddieFTW, Flutter360, and Penny Tee13.

PurpleJerkWarrior: I actually based Sam's behavior on the show. It seems like, especially in season 4, she doesn't take delight in doing the things that she does, at least not as much as she used to. Actually, I think most of the time when she shows that she is having fun during a prank is when she's doing it to Freddie.

PurpleJerk: The main reason I don't write Brad is I get so frustrated with so many stories with Brad in them, since a lot of writers almost make him a Mary Sue character, and I don't want to end up doing that myself (or worse, go the complete opposite way and make him a complete jerk).

Julefor: Well, we see in this chapter that Carly is already debating with herself about interfering. And, no, we're not going to see Freddie's poem about a tree, as that was based on my own disastrous 8th grade poem about a tree. Shudder.

Icarlya: Yeah, I'm pretty sure that there are plenty of high schools where spontaneous wrestling matches can still break out. I don't know if guys practice flirting-at least I don't, but then I'm married, and my wife hates when I practice flirting with other women. That was just something Spencer said for reasons of his own. When I say that some things are out of my control, I mean that I generally don't write from an outline. I have a basic idea of what I want to write, and I start to write it-and sometimes I write things that end up being more important than what I originally intended. When I wrote Spencer's "flirting" comment, it was really just a throw-away line for me, just something to indicate that Spencer knew more than he was saying and that he didn't want Carly to know that. It just felt natural to have Gibby reply to that, and then it again felt natural to have Gibby practice flirting the next day. I never intended to move him and Carly into possible couplehood (I actually had no plans at first to even include Gibby), but once it happened, I just went with it. Often when I write I let myself be guided by outside forces. That's why some of my other stories are so influenced by music-because I was playing certain songs while I either wrote the story or thought about the story.