iCarly (c) Dan Schneider and Nickelodeon

Chapter Two: iDream in Black and White

The light poured in from the window and trickled over Sam's hair. She had the covers pushed down to her feet, like she usually did, as she spread herself like butter over the mattress. The air felt cleaner that morning, less stuffy. That was always a good sign. She didn't wait for her mom to scream downstairs before she swung her legs over the side of her bed, pulling herself up into a seated position. She stretched her arms up towards the ceiling. Her back popped as she twisted it back and forth. Rays of sunlight danced in her eyes. She rubbed them open. The metal baseball bat stared at her from across the room. Checking her phone, the time read 7:50 am. Sam grumbled to herself as she dug through the rest of her clean clothes. Surprisingly, she found quite a few outfits that didn't have stains. She slipped on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a jacket. She wore one sock with stars, another with checks for good luck. Her converse were nowhere to be found. Chiz-nips, she cursed to herself.

Quietly, she snuck out of her room into the hallway. If she was lucky, she could catch the 8:15 bus to school before her mom even woke up. However, when she passed an unbroken mirror in the upstairs bathroom, she realized that it was going to take longer than she thought to get ready. She walked in, thumbing through the follicles of her blonde hair. But when she looked in the mirror, she had to take a double take. The bruise on her forehead had completely healed overnight. That was fast, Sam thought, not paying it much mind. This bathroom was clean, but no one ever used it save Melanie when she came to visit. She opened a drawer and took out a brush. It didn't take her long to realize that her hair was unsalvageable. She found a clip and piled as much hair as she could into it. Soon, her face was clean with the exception of a little bit of eyeliner that didn't seem to want to scrub off. Carly can fix it later...she told herself. Her eyebrows flattened. She wasn't sure she wanted to see Carly that day. The show must go on, as the saying goes, she thought. And it would.

While she was cleaning up, the air became pungent with a foreign smell in the Puckett household. Sam's stomach roared. Was that... she walked quickly to the top of the stairs as the smell got stronger. Quietly, she crept down the wooden stairs, each board creaking as she worked her way to the bottom. Her hand clutched on the railing for support. The smell was coming from the kitchen.

She passed by the living room, and then the bathroom. The house appeared to be cleaned while she was asleep. Did they get robbed? No, of course not, Sam concluded. Who would rob people of their giant boxes of newspapers and trash? Still, something strange was certainly going on. Sam slid the foot with the star sock forward, trying not to make any noise. If she needed to, she could hit the intruder with a chair or tackle him to the ground. The smell grew stronger. She knew that smell anywhere. Bacon.

"Good morning," a voice called from the kitchen. Sam froze. She knew that voice.

"Mom?" she asked, skeptically. She approached the room to see the back of her mother's head nodding over a steaming stove. She slouched back, realizing that it wasn't an intruder after all. "Oh. You're up early."

"I couldn't sleep knowing there was a mess downstairs," her mom replied. She turned slightly to the right. "Hand me that plate, would you?"

Sam looked at the counter and back at her mother. The woman was unusually pleasant that morning, almost to make up for the horrible fight the night before. Sam did as she asked and brought her the plate. "You cleaned the house?"

Her mom took the plate. "No, Sam. It was a bunch of Gnomes," she chuckled. The bacon sizzled as she flipped it over. "They come over every night after they finish playing poker with the centaurs."

Sam rolled her eyes. That seems slightly more plausible, she thought. She licked her lips. The bacon smell was starting to get to her.

"How many pieces do you want?"

Sam blinked. "Huh?"

"I said how many pieces do you want?" her mom asked again. "I have to go back to the store, so you can't have more than five."

"Five pieces of bacon!" Sam exclaimed. Her mouth was watering at the sound. "You mean...that isn't for you?"

"No, I already ate breakfast."

This was getting weird. Her mom never made food, not even for herself. She especially didn't wake up in the morning just to make breakfast for Sam. "You ate? You cleaned? Who died!" Sam sputtered out in confusion.

Pam spun around, giving her daughter a menacing glare. "Excuse me..." Sam backed away, hitting her back against the table. Oh great. Here we go. Her mom lifted the spatula she was using to turn the bacon up to her face, pointing it towards Sam. "What did you say?"

Sam bit her lip. "I just meant..."

"Is it really some great occasion that I clean the house?" she countered, moving towards Sam.

Sam took action. She ran around the table, blocking herself with a chair. "R-remember what the lawyer said," she stammered. "If you hit me all I have to do is call the cops!"

Pam rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Oh please, Sam. When have I ever hit you?"

"I'll go right to officer Carl! I mean it this time!" she shouted. Her body began to tremble. If she goes for that frying pan there's no way I'll be able to hide the burn, she thought strategically. Plus, that would be an awful waste of bacon. "Just...stay over there!"

Pam looked at her daughter's face. It was wrought with a kind of fear she could only imagine. "Sam..." She slowly approached her. "Are you-"

"Just go back to your bacon..." Sam huffed.

But her mother did the opposite. She set the spatula on the counter and walked around the other side of the table. "Sam..." she said again, concern in her voice. Sam was too much in fight mode to notice. "You don't think I would actually hit you, do you?" Sam relaxed a bit, confused. Her mother took another step forward. "Honey?"

Sam scrunched her eyebrows. "Honey?" she repeated in disbelief.

"Are you feeling okay?" She reached her hand out towards Sam who recoiled from it. But when skin met skin, it was a gentle touch on her cheek. Sam should have run away. She should have screamed. Whoever this woman in her house was, she wasn't her mother. "Did you fall down the stairs again?"

The scene was interrupted by the leaps and bounds of feet rushing down the stairs. "Good morning, Family!" a bright, cheery voice cooed. Before Sam had a chance to process what was happening, a familiar face skipped into the kitchen. "Mother...Sam..." she greeted.

Sam couldn't believe her eyes. "Melanie?"

"Oh! Did you forget she's staying for the weekend?" Pam asked the confused teenager. "It must be a nice surprise."

"Well, it certainly explains a lot," Sam muttered.

Pam walked away from the girls and went back to the bacon on the stove. "Op! I think it's done! Go grab a plate, both of you."

Melanie looked over at Sam and grinned. "How are you?"

"Fine," Sam responded, bluntly.

"Be careful, Hon. Sammy's a bit on edge this morning," her mom called back.

"Oh no! Not another monster dream!" Melanie exclaimed. "I told you, you should read this book I got from my psychology course. It tells you all about your dreams and what they mean! Don't you think that sounds like a good idea?"

"Wonderful." Sam grimaced. She wasn't entirely convinced she wasn't in a dream. Why was Melanie home? She never wanted to come home. It explained why her mother was on such good behavior. However, she seemed legitimately hurt when Sam thought she would hit her. Today was a strange day, indeed. Sam didn't know what to make of it all. She looked at her phone. 8:15. The bus would leave in ten minutes. "Hey, I'm already running late so can I get my bacon to go?" she asked. She needed to get out of the house.

"Running late?" Pam asked, confused. "Your classes don't start until nine. You have enough time to eat breakfast with your family."

Meow. A small white cat with brown spots appeared out from under the table. Melanie gasped. "Aww! Now it really is a family breakfast!" she said sweetly, picking up the animal.

"Mel! Don't pick him up!" Sam whispered. "Do you want to get rabies?"

Melanie giggled girlishly. "Rabies? You're so funny, Sam." She lifted the cat up to her face so her nose was touching its nose. The cat opened its mouth and began licking her skin. "You're not disease ridden, are you? No. Of course not. Sam's just being paranoid."

"Okay, fine. Don't say I didn't warn you." Sam exhaled. Sauntering over to the cabinet, she noticed there was a full set of shining white plates. "Did you get new plates just for Melanie?" she asked sarcastically.

"Aw. Are they new?" her twin asked excitedly, much to Sam's annoyance.

Pam shook her head. "No, same plates we've always had."

Sam's head began to feel dizzy. "I..." she began. "I have to go to the bathroom." She left the kitchen and sprinted to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Suddenly, she became face to face with her own eyes in the mirror. She felt a lump in her chest. The glass wasn't shattered and there was no indication of a broken frame. Her breath became shallow as she inhaled and exhaled. She couldn't stand it anymore. She let out a blood curdling scream, running as fast as she could out the door.

She ran straight into her mother, who caught her, holding her in her arms. "Sam?" She asked as Sam began to hyperventilate. "Sam. What's wrong?"

Melanie ran in, panting. "Did something happen?"

"I don't know," Pam replied, still holding on. "Sam. Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?"

"Did you see a spider?" Melanie asked.

"No! I didn't see a spider!" Sam snapped back. "Did you get a new mirror?"

Pam tilted her head. "Did I...what?"

"The mirror! In the bathroom! How did you fix it? Did you get a new one?" There was no answer. Sam grabbed onto her mother as tightly as she could. "I broke that mirror! I shattered it into a million pieces!"

"The mirror in the bathroom?" Pam looked over into the room. "You broke that mirror in there?"

"Yes!"

"Are you okay?"

"Ugh!" Sam pulled away from her family and went to the door. "Last night! Last night I broke this mirror in this bathroom! Don't you remember? You have to remember, Mom!"

Melanie peered inside. "The mirror isn't broken."

"Sam," her mother said. "It wasn't broken this morning either. You must have dreamed you broke it. Is that why you thought I was angry at you? You thought you broke the mirror?"

"But..." Sam couldn't find her voice. She couldn't stop looking at her mother. There was concern on her face, certainly. But there was something else. Something Sam hadn't seen from her mother in a long, long time. "But I did..."

And then there were more footsteps. Heavy footsteps. The clunked down the stairs as though attempting to get away from a fire. "I heard screaming," a deep voice said. "Is everything alright?" It was gruff and low. Male. Sam looked up to see a tall man running into the scene. He was tan, muscular with a head of brown hair that was slicked back by gel. Sam completely stopped breathing.

"Everything's fine," her mother said. "Sam just had a little fright, that's all."

Sam shook her head, unable to peel her eyes off of the man. She remembered his face from pictures tucked away in photo albums her mother never let her see. Fading photographs that were burned to show only portions of his face. She couldn't stop it. Tears began to fill her eyes.

"D-Dad?"

The man pushed past her mother gently. "It's okay, Baby. I'm here. What happened?" His eyes were bright blue, just like in the photos. His hands were strong as they reached out lovingly toward her. "Sam?"

"You're...my dad..."

"Did she hurt herself?" he asked.

Pam shook her head. "I don't know. She thinks she broke the mirror."

"Sam?" he said, looking back at her. "Sweetie...you're okay..." He stroked her arm. "You're okay."

"You..." Sam walked toward him until her face was against his chest. "You came back."

The man chuckled. "Oh, come on. That's not fair. I know I work long hours but saying I never come home..." But Sam wrapped her arms around him, holding on as tightly as she could. Sam's father looked up toward her mother and whispered. "How long has she been like this?"

"Since this morning."

"Do you think we need to call Dr. Reynolds again?" he suggested. "Make sure everything is...functioning?"

"I don't know," Pam said, uneasily. She leaned in closer, whispering. "She thought I was going to hit her."

"She what?"

She nodded. "She was confused that I had cleaned the house and made breakfast and when I told her I didn't like the tone she was using she tried to blockade herself away from me with a chair."

He looked back down. "Sam? Is that true?"

"And," Melanie added. "She thought the plates were new and that the cat had rabies."

"Oh dear." Sam's father pulled her away from him. "Pumpkin..." He looked her in the eye. Sam was in too much of a shock to do anything. "Are you okay? Do you think you might need to stay home from school today?"

Sam shook her head. She needed to get out of there. She knew she did but...just the image of her father made her feel frozen to the floor. "No. I have a test," she lied. Lying was the one thing she always knew how to do.

"You can't make it up?" her mother asked.

"No. I studied really hard for it and..." would her mother buy that she was studying for a test? Well maybe this lady would, but not her mother. "I really want to go."

"I can take her on my way to work," her dad said.

"Thanks, Babe. That means a lot," her mother replied as she kissed her husband on the lips. Sam stared at the scene, speechless. Her dad said goodbye to Melanie, then her mother, and concluded by handing Sam her shoes. She picked up her backpack by the front door, which was still filled with books she swore she sold. Soon, she was sitting in the passenger's seat of her car. It almost looked brand new with how well they kept it up. The paint was fresh, the radio worked and nothing smelled like tobacco smoke. What kind of alternate dimension did she step into? She wasn't sure if it was a dream come true or a nightmare. She supposed she would find out once she finally got to school. Carly sure isn't going to believe this, she thought. The engine started to run as they backed out of the driveway.