iCarly (c) Dan Schneider and Nickelodeon

Chapter Three: iOnly Tell Lies

Sam stood nervously outside of the wooden door, listening to the muffled sounds of the lecture. A piece of paper was crumpled up in her hand. She was still trying to get over the fact that her world had completely changed overnight. When she walked into Principal Franklin's office to ask about her schedule, she was shocked to discover that all of her classes were different. Sam bit her lip, opening the door to the room. It was the first class of the day and not one she was looking forward to. The door made a loud creek as she stepped through. The entire classroom grew silent, all eyes glued to her.

"Miss Puckett," the teacher at the front of the room said. "So nice of you to join us this morning." He was a tall, slender man with glasses and wearing a button up shirt. Sam didn't recognize him as a teacher she had in the past, although he did seem vaguely familiar to her. Perhaps she had seen him walking around the school at some point. He certainly didn't act like a new teacher.

Sam shut the door behind her as she stared down the class. "Listen," she whispered to the man. "I..."

"If there's something you need to talk about, we can talk about it after," he said sternly. "Now, please take your seat so we can resume class."

Sam rolled her eyes and scanned the room for a seat. She noticed a boy excitedly point to the chair next to him. That was never a good sign, Sam thought, but at least maybe he could give her a clue as to what was happening. She moved through the students and snuck into the chair.

"What were you doing?" the boy asked her, as though they had spoken before.

Sam gave him a hard glare. "None of your business, Freakazoid," she hissed.

The lecture continued, droning on for what seemed like ages. Sam took out a notepad and began to doodle in it. She always fancied herself a good artist. It was the one thing she knew for a fact she did better than Carly that didn't directly cause others pain. She used to draw all of the time when she was bored, mainly of ideas for iCarly or ways to torment Freddie. She drew pictures of him being eaten by a Tiger, dressed as a woman, screaming at a toaster, whatever she was thinking of at the time. It helped to have a protagonist to her little comics. Today, though, her subject was Mrs. Benson as a large Manticore. It wasn't the most original idea she had, but the image of Freddie's mom as as a fire-breathing lion with scaly feet just made sense to her. Sam chuckled to herself, adding a speech bubble.

"I'm sorry, is there something funny?" came a stern voice. Sam didn't look up. The boy next to her poked her to get out of her daze.

"What?" Her head shot up.

"You were laughing. You find centrifugal force funny, Miss Puckett?"

Sam put down her notebook. "Centrifiwha..."

The teacher lowered his eyes so he was peering through his glasses at the end of his nose. "Well, since I have your attention, perhaps you would like to solve the formula on the board."

Sam looked at the white board, which resembled only meaningless scribbles to her. "Uh...I would love to do..." She clenched her teeth. "...that. But I can't."

The teacher stared at her, dumbfounded. "And why not?"

"Well," she began, kicking back in her seat. "I electrocuted myself last night and now I have amnesia. So I don't remember anything about chemistry."

"This is physics."

"I don't remember physics." The class began to chuckle.

"Is that a joke?" he asked sternly.

Sam sighed, half mumbling. "I kinda wish it was. You can ask Principal Franklin. I was just in his office. He had to give me my class schedule and everything." The man looked skeptically. "Believe me. For once in my life I am telling the truth."

"Alright. Kent, you answer the problem."

A red-headed boy in the back of the room stood up. "Aww! No fair!"

"Heh..." Sam smiled, going back to her cartoon. "Have fun, Kent." She was about to give Mrs. Benson a long, wet tongue to match her slimy attitude when a voice called whispered out to her.

"Psst. Sam..."

Sam rolled her eyes and ignored it.

"Hey...Puckett..." a tiny paper frog flew and hit her in the face. She slammed down her notebook again and looked at the thrower. It was the boy from earlier, the one who wanted her to sit next to him.

"Hey!"

"Is that true?" he asked once he got her attention. "Did you really shock yourself last night?"

"Yes, now shut your face," she whispered back.

"So...you don't remember me?"

Sam rolled her eyes and leaned in closer. "Do you think that if I remembered you I would keep looking at you like this?" She made a face at him, sticking out her tongue.

"Wow...that's so weird."

Sam went back to her drawing. "You're telling me."

The boy held out his hand. "I'm Curtis."

"I don't care," Sam replied not even bothering to look up. Curtis simply laughed.

"Maybe you will by the end of the day."

"Not likely."

"Mr. Mendel!" The teacher gave a harsh look towards Curtis. "How about you focus on this formula rather than Ms. Puckett's notebook. As I recall, it's not going to do you much good."

Curtis stopped talking to Sam for the rest of the lecture. By the time class got out, Sam had completed her drawing. It felt good to get out all of her frustrations of the day. Now she could go to class and try to piece together what was happening. She would have never taken physics, it was a class for people who studied how to drop things! At least, that's what she believed. It seemed like a waste of time and energy to figure out how the world works. It's there, and we live in it. Might as well accept it. That was Sam's philosophy. She was about half way down the hall to her next class when she heard a voice call back to her.

"Sam! Wait up!"

Curtis came prancing behind her like a lost puppy. "Dude! What is your problem?"

"We have class together," he said confidently. He showed her his schedule. "See? Shakespeare. Maybe I could..."

"Ugh," Sam growled. Old language? Why was she such a prude now? "No thanks." She continued to walk away but Curtis pursued her.

"Oh come on. If you can't remember anything, like you say, the least you can do is let me help you get to your classes."

"Classes?" Sam said in shock.

"Yep. Four."

"And..." Sam swallowed hard. "You are in my classes?"

"Everything but wood shop."

Wood shop. Sam sighed with relief. At least she got to take something cool. "Alright, fine. But keep your distance."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The rest of the day went as expected. Sam mainly drew the entire time as Curtis explained that she had "amnesia". All of the teachers bought the story completely, which was good news for Sam. It was nice not having to cover up and keep track of her stories for once. She wasn't lying as far as they were concerned. This didn't come with the same amount of effort as lying did. In this story there was at least some truth. She truly didn't remember where she was or how she got there. However, she did have memories, memories that didn't coincide with the world she was currently living in.

She skated through her classes in a fog. She was grateful when lunch finally pulled around. She had left before eating and one fat cake was not enough to sustain her. Curtis found it necessary to follow her down the hall. She found out he was a senior and was taking similar classes she was because she apparently skipped ninth grade. By the time the lunch bell rang, she was beginning to get very sick of him hanging on her.

"So then you took the placement exam and got the highest grade in the class..." the boy explained as Sam made her way to her locker. He sure knew a lot of useless trivia about her, none of it actually true in Sam's memory. "And there was also the time you-"

Sam couldn't take it anymore. She spun around and grabbed Curtis by the arm, twisting it as hard as she could without spraining it. The boy became paralyzed with pain for a few seconds before Sam let go. She then flattened her shirt and began to walk again. However, Curtis still was right behind. Sam wanted to dig her brain out with a spoon. She looked around for Carly, but there was no sign of her. She pulled out her phone and searched her call history.

Nothing.

Sam looked at her phone, confused. She checked her contacts, but there was nothing there either. Did she delete her number out of anger that night? She didn't remember doing anything like that. Maybe it was a prank by Freddie or Gibby. Sam grimaced. What kind of lame prank would be resetting cellphone contacts?

Curtis appeared in front of her. "I like strong women."

Sam put down her phone. "When are you gonna get lost?"

"When you agree to go to the dance with me."

Sam crinkled her nose. "Gross."

"Aw, come on, Sam. You can't tell me you don't want to go," he pleaded. "And since your boyfriend isn't going..."

"Who told you that?"

"I overheard his mom say he has a previous engagement," Curtis said, moving closer. "And I really would hate for you to miss out."

"Right well..." Sam resisted the urge to punch him in the face. If this is what Carly had to deal with all of the time from being popular, maybe her lack of romantic history was more of an advantage. "Freddie said he was going to try and get around it." She really had no idea what she was talking about. When in doubt, always lie.

Curtis sighed. "Look, Sam. I didn't want to say anything, but I really think you're selling yourself short here. I mean Freddie is so-"

"Freddie is so what?" a deep voice injected into the scene. Curtis turned around to see Freddie standing there, arms crossed. Sam smirked, moving from between the two boys.

"Oops," she said mockingly.

"Hey, Benson," Curtis said with a smile. "Don't mind us. We're just standing here...talking...about chemistry.You mind?"

Freddie shrugged. "Not really."

"I like your shirt by the way."

"Thank you."

"Did your mommy iron it for you or did you do it by yourself like a big boy?" Curtis derided.

Freddie grinned sarcastically. "Cute."

"I hear you aren't going to the dance. Too bad, you'll be missed."

"Okay bye!" Sam said, gesturing for Curtis to leave. He didn't budge. This guy was harder to get rid of than Ruben.

"I am, actually," Freddie said.

"Really? You don't have knitting that night?"

Freddie's face turned red. "I don't knit..." His body grew tense. "I crochet and I don't see anything wrong with having a knowledge of basic stitching."

"Heh..." Curtis chuckled, ruffling Freddie's hair. "Yeah, he's a keeper alright." He started to walk away, laughing. "See ya." Sam stuck her tongue out at him as he disappeared into the bustling hallway.

She turned to Freddie, unable to keep a straight face. "Crochet?"

"It passes the time!" Freddie said defensively. His cheeks were burning red.

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, so do video games."

Freddie went to open the locker, grumbling to himself. "Now I feel bad about myself." She shoved his books inside. "Stupid Curtis."

Sam went to make a joke, but stopped herself as soon as she saw how serious he was. She wasn't sure if it was her growing out of it or if her feelings for him made her more compassionate. Suddenly, she knew what to do. "Wanna see what I did in school today?" Freddie looked up. "It'll make you feel better."

"What?"

Sam pulled out her notebook and opened it to the page of her drawing. She handed it to him, her face twisted in a wild grin.

Freddie looked at it, unimpressed. "You drew a picture of my mom as the devil."

"Actually, she's a manticore."

"Aren't they those creatures that poison their victims and then devour them whole?"

Sam nodded. "Uh huh!"

"And you thought this would make me feel better?" He looked at her, then back at the picture. He stared at it for a few seconds before breaking into a small smile. "Okay, it is pretty good."

"I know, right? I think I captured her likeness."

"Totally," he confirmed, chuckling. "Especially, the fangs." Sam took back her notebook, looking at her work, proudly. He smiled taking her hand. "Hey," he said, pulling her into him. "I love you."

Sam's face fell as he pushed back her hair. She felt her entire body go numb as he kissed her again. His words cycled through her head like a marry-go-round. I love you...she heard over and over again. She had heard those words come from his lips many times, typically to talk about how much he loved Carly. He threw around the word love as though it was akin to the word taco. For her, he had only said them once and even then it was to her alone, never to anyone else. Sam fortunately didn't have to think about it too long before her stomach started doing the talking for her.

Freddie pulled away and looked down. "I think it's time for lunch."

Sam was brought out of her thoughts by the immediacy of her rumbling tummy. "Oh man! I forgot! I didn't eat breakfast cause I was so weirded out by-" she stopped herself and thought of something else to say. "By my mom cause she was screaming at the cat. So, I left without eating."

Freddie frowned. "I've never seen you skip a meal."

"Well!" Sam complained. "Today was really weird!" That part wasn't a lie.

Freddie rolled his eyes, grinning as he began to walk away from the locker. "Come on. Let's go get you food." Sam trailed behind, her stomach leading her.

All throughout lunch, Sam waited for someone to ask where Carly was, or mention her. Sam herself was about to bring up the subject, but every time the opportunity came, the words didn't seem to want to be said. The truth was, Sam had no idea what was happening or why anything was the way it was, but she was enjoying herself. Gibby came and joined them at the table, babbling about some new way to prevent toe fungus. It was different without Carly there, for sure, but Sam felt a strange peace from not having her around. After their fight the night before, she really wasn't sure how she was going to react when she saw her the next day. There was a fear that if Carly's name came up, she would become the topic of conversation. However, no such thing happened. As guilty as Sam felt, she secretly enjoyed not having to share her friends for once. Still, the question of where's Carly? lingered in her mind. She decided to wait until after school got out to finally ask.

Freddie and Gibby walked out of the lunch hall, Sam falling a bit behind having stuffed herself completely full. She noticed Gibby stop in the middle of the archway.

"Uh oh," he whispered.

Sam tried to peek through. "What?"

"Aw man," Freddie quietly complained. "Why now?"

"What?" Sam asked again, now in line with the two boys. "What's going on?"

"You want me to-" Gibby asked.

Freddie shook his head. "Let's just get out of here." He gripped Sam's hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Why? What's-" Sam asked as Freddie pulled her across the hall. "Hey! Dude! What's your deal?" She complained as he continued to walk quickly. Gibby trailed closely behind. "I mean it, Fredward. You have two seconds to-"

"Freddie!" a voice called out. The boy stopped, busted. The clacking of heels was heard on the tile floor of the hallway. "Where have you been? I need to talk to you."

Sam turned around, nearly falling over with relief and nervousness. "Carly!" she exclaimed, looking at her best friend. "There you are!" She let go of Freddie's hand and approached her.

Carly Shay looked at the blonde and smiled half-heartedly. "Yeah, hi." She moved past her, ending up right in front of Freddie. "Freddie, where were you? I sent you a text like fifteen minutes ago saying to meet by the water fountain."

"I didn't get a chance to look at my phone. Sorry," he said flatly. "It's lunch hour so you could have just went to the cafeteria..." he practically mumbled.

Carly gave him a hard look, "Um...ew."

Gibby scratched his neck. "I'll see you guys later," he said, sprinting off in the other direction. Sam pursed her lips, utterly confused.

"What's with him?" she asked Freddie. He subtly shook his head, as indication not to talk about it.

Carly handed Freddie a red folder. "Anyway, I need you to come over earlier to set up for the show tonight. I also think we should make a few changes to the script, so you should be there for that too." She walked closer to him, twisting her hair behind her ear. "And you could always stay later, if you need to, you know, run something else..."

Freddie glowered. "I'm on a tight schedule."

Sam felt her cheeks begin to burn. Not only was Carly ignoring her, but she was flirting...with Freddie! Gross. "Oh my gosh Carly!" She called, trying to get her attention and hiding her annoyance. "You're never going to believe what happened last-"

Carly turned around. "Excuse me. We're having a conversation." She turned back to Freddie. "Come by around sixish. Don't forget to wear the tux this time. The girls like it when you get classy."

Sam chuckled. "Freddie's about as classy as pig wrestler."

Freddie gave her a confused stare. "A pig wrestler?"

Sam shrugged. Carly turned around, giving her a glare. When Sam simply grinned in response she turned back to Freddie. She began to reach for Freddie's collar, adjusting it. "You can come over early so I can help you fix your hair."

"Please don't touch me," he asked, monotonically.

Sam recoiled, astonished. "Wh-whoa..." she said trying to move between them. She gently made a shooing gesture to Carly. "Ahem!" Carly looked at her and let go of his collar. Sam grabbed Carly by the arm and pulled her aside.

"Ow!"

"What the fudge do you think you are doing?" Sam snapped. "Why are you being all friendly with Freddie all of the sudden?"

Carly tossed her hair. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I've been looking for you all day! I was actually worried something might have happened to you! You know I was electrocuted by a TV last night. Do you care? Should I even bother trying to tell you? Or or you just gonna hit on Freddie some more?"

"Sam," Freddie came behind her.

"I know you're not exactly thrilled that we're together, cause you weren't exactly supportive last time, but..." Sam sighed. "Okay, I'm not sure how or why this happened but right now I'm really happy that it did. So can't you just be happy for me and try to be there? Please? Just once, can you-"

"Listen," Carly stopped her from talking. "I don't know what you're talking about so you need to take your crazy out of my face." She looked at Freddie. "Make it five."

"Five?" Freddie complained.

"Five," Carly demanded. She turned around and began to walk away. She called back with a tone like sugar. "So nice to talk to you, Sandy."

"Wait!" Sam called after her. "You can't just-" she froze. "Sandy?"

"It's Sam!" Freddie shouted at her back.

"Haha!" she giggled. "It matters." Her black hair bounced as she opened the doors and left the building. Sam turned back to Freddie shocked and confused.

"What the heck was that?" she asked.

"Carly Shay," he grumbled.

Sam straightened, her shoulders lowered as far as they could. She had never heard Freddie say Carly's name with such distain. "Whoa. Why the sudden hostility?"

"Don't worry about it," he finally said with a grimace. "She's just a spoiled brat who thinks she's better than everyone else because she goes to some prep school."

"Prep school?"

"Yeah, Briarwood." Freddie mocked the name.

"Carly goes to Briarwood?" Sam exclaimed. "But...what...since when?"

Freddie rolled his eyes. "Sam, trust me. You don't want to go to Briarwood. They only want students there who follow the rules and are incredibly dull."

"Carly isn't dull!" Sam said defensively. "She's...well she's not particularly interesting! But she isn't dull!"

"You're quick to say that, having only just met her."

"What are you talking about?" Sam said, flinging her arms around. "I've known Carly for years! I'm her-" She stopped suddenly, realizing that she wasn't at home anymore. "I mean...we went to elementary school together, remember?"

Freddie sighed. "The dark days."

"How did Carly get into Briarwood? She like...win a scholarship or something?"

"Nah, she kind of has this web series," Freddie started to explain. Sam's ears perked up. Web series? "So she's sorta famous. The show gets about one hundred thousand viewers a week. Which isn't bad mind you, just not all that impressive on an internet basis. iCarly generates an average income of ten dollars per thousand viewers. So on average we're looking at a rate of a thousand dollars a week total."

Sam's eyes bulged. "iCarly!"

"Right. But see the problem is that-"

"The show is..." Sam sputtered. "iCarly?"

"Yeah. iCarly. You know? i- internet. Carly- her," Freddie said.

Sam couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Carly has a web show called iCarly?"

"Don't make fun. I came up with that name."

"Right, I know but..." Sam shook her head. This couldn't be happening. "Wait. Are you still iCarly's technical producer?"

Freddie chuckled. "Technical Producer?" he repeated. "That sounds so official."

Sam groaned. "You the tech weenie or what?"

"Yeah I run the lights, manage the set and film the show, but there isn't much editing because most of it is done live. I also keep track of the finances, make sure the advertising companies are happy, advertise the show itself, strike the set after the show..."

"And..." Sam bit her tongue. "I'm not part of this at all?"

"No way."

"Why not?"

"Because you like having a life," he teased. "And Carly wouldn't let you be on the team anyway." He smirked. "You're too pretty. You would outshine her. Plus, she probably wouldn't pay you. She only pays me because she needs me, otherwise everything would fall apart."

"You don't do it for free?" Sam asked.

"You're insane if you think I'm gonna put up with that thing for six hours a week and not get paid for it."

"How much?"

"Depends. Usually a hundred."

"A hundred bucks?" Sam shouted surprised. "A week?"

"A month."

"What?" Freddie started walking his way back to the locker as Sam followed. "But you said that iCarly makes like a thousand bucks a week."

"Well, sure. But then there's taxes, revenue, stage maintenance and that's not too bad. Carly gets two thousand a month, Missy gets five hundred, and the rest is saved in the company vault for emergencies. Carly said I would get paid more if I showed my face on camera more often, but..." He stopped, arriving at the locker. "I don't really want to."

Sam was perplexed. None of this made any sense. iCarly couldn't have required more than a hundred bucks to keep it going, minus Freddie's equipment. And Freddie not wanting to be on camera? Before that day, he would have jumped at every opportunity to show his face on the show. Sure, he wasn't very funny when he tried to improvise for himself, but he was always enthusiastic. What was wrong with him?

"But it's cool," Freddie said. "Since I'm the one who draws out the business contracts with the advertising companies I get a good portion of their contribution. Enough to keep up to date with the technology changes at least."

"Hey Freddie..." Sam asked, afraid of the answer she might receive. "What's Carly's show...like?"

"Trust me, Babe. It's not something you want to be a part of." He kissed her on the cheek, grabbed his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder. "I'll see you after school." Sam watched as he left to get back to class on time. She snarled. Web show? Carly had a web show in this universe too? And what was worse, Sam wasn't a part of it. She grabbed another fat cake from the drawer, biting the wrapper with her teeth and spitting it onto the ground. She snatched a bite of the cake and slammed the locker shut. It was just as she feared. This dream come true was turning into a nightmare.