iCarly (c) Dan Schneider and Nickelodeon
Chapter Eight: iTalk in Circles
The door crept open as Sam dropped her backpack to the floor. She looked around the hallway and noticed that entire hallway was cleaner than when she left. Mom must've done it, she thought. The idea of her mother doing any kind of work was still incredibly foreign to her. However, just as she suspected, when she walked through the living room to the kitchen, she found her there fixing dinner. Sam checked her phone. 5:20. Was it that late already? She began to feel sick again. She must have been up in that fire escape for hours.
She knocked on the door frame, leaning against it with a slight smile. "Hey."
"Hey, Sam," Pam said, casually. "What do you think about burritos for dinner?"
"Whatever's fine." Sam walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. She couldn't even think about food, and that scared her more than anything.
"So, where did you and Freddie go this afternoon?"
Sam drew circles with her finger on the wood. "I um...I wasn't with Freddie."
"Oh?" Pam didn't turn around.
"I actually left my backpack in Carly's apartment and-"
"Carly Shay?"
"...Yes," Sam replied, forgetting that her mother wasn't as familiar with Carly in this dream. Pam grunted, slamming a package of raw beef into a pan. It sizzled when it touched the metal surface. "I just went over to get it. Everything was fine until..." Sam began to chuckle at the memory. "Until she started talking."
"Oh Dear God."
"She tried to blackmail me into breaking up with Freddie."
Pam turned around for a moment. "She did what?"
"I know. It's ridiculous."
Pam shook her head. "I never liked that Carly. Always prancing around like she was some divine princess just cause she has some stupid web show."
Sam looked down. "I know. But she's not all bad. She used to be really nice to me."
"Yeah, well," Pam went back to her cooking. The meat was starting to brown now. "I just can't forgive her for what she did to you...greased pig my boot."
"Oh..." Sam blushed. "You saw that, huh?"
"News travels fast when it's viral."
Sam nodded. "Would you..." she swallowed hard. "Would you watch it if I was on it?"
Pam scowled. "You mean like you were on it the other night? I would sue."
Sam sighed. "Never mind." She went back to drawing circles on the table.
It was quiet for a long time as Pam went back to cooking. Sam didn't react to the aroma beginning to fill the kitchen. Her eyes remained downcast as she thought about what Carly had said. Ruining Freddie's life was the last thing she wanted to do, now that she knew that she had the complete capability to do it. After a while, her mother came over and sat down at the table. She slid a plate over to Sam.
Sam cocked an eyebrow. "What's this?" She looked on the plate, where she saw two buns held together by a thick saucy substance.
"It's a sloppy joe. For you."
Sam smiled, confused. "Why did you make me this?"
Pam shrugged. "Because the sloppiest of days requires the sloppiest of joes."
"Thanks, but I'm not hungry."
"Sam?" she called. Her daughter didn't move. She leaned across the table. "There's something you're not telling me." Sam shook her head. "Come on, Kid. I raised you. Don't you think I know when something's up? What happened?"
Sam bit her lip. She couldn't win with this woman. "I...It's..." she gulped. "It's Freddie."
"Oh no. Did you two get in an argument?"
"No...nothing like that." She smiled lightly. "Trust me, arguments with Benson I know how to handle."
"I believe it. What's the issue, then?"
"I was walking out of Carly's apartment. And you know, Freddie's is right across the hall. So I get out there and..." Sam's chest felt tight. She wasn't sure how she was going to explain this to her mother. "I heard his mom screaming at him. And he was screaming back and..." She swallowed. "Carly had mentioned that I was a bad influence on him-"
"She's one to talk."
Sam frowned. "What if she's right?"
Pam's jaw dropped. "Sam," she said aghast. "How could you even consider that?"
"Why shouldn't I? That's what everyone thinks!" Sam snapped. "Carly never approved of us, not ever! His mom thinks I'm a wreck and a plague-"
"A plague?"
"Even Gibby tried to break us up! And maybe they're all right! Maybe I'm just too violent and mean and...and..." Sam sunk her head into the floor. "And all I do is cause him pain."
"Pain? What on earth are you talking about?" Pam asked. Sam didn't reply. "Oh Sammy, you don't really think that do-" Sam sunk further down into her arms until her entire face was covered. "You said you heard Freddie and his mom yelling at each other. Were they yelling about you?" Sam nodded. Her mother came around and knelt by her chair. "Did you hear what they said?" Sam nodded again. "Can you tell me?"
Sam lifted her head out of her arms and rotated towards Pam. "Mrs. Benson found out that Freddie went to the dance with me instead of going on a blind date she set up for him."
"Uh huh."
"She said he should have dated Carly cause at least Carly was nice and she said I was a plague and a...bulldozer."
"And Freddie? Did he just sit and listen to that?"
"No, he defended me." Her face grew dark. "But..." her throat started to become dry. "She didn't exactly...what I mean is...I mean I didn't see it, but..."
"Sam. It's okay just tell me what happened."
Sam sighed. "She...she kind of..." She couldn't form the words in her mouth, as simple as they were. As the worried look on her mother's face began to deepen, Sam lifted her hand up. Her fingers trembled as she jerkily hovered it by her cheek. Flattening her palm, she lightly smacked herself in the face. Pam's face morphed from worry to horror in a matter of seconds.
"Oh, Honey..." she said, reaching out and pulling Sam towards her in an embrace. Sam didn't feel strange, or out of place like usual. It was comforting. This, after all, wasn't her mother. She knew that. "It isn't your fault."
"I know that," Sam said.
"I'm so sorry," Pam whispered. Sam buried her face in her mom's shirt. She was so weak in this place...so vulnerable compared to in the world she knew. "I know." Pam stroked her head. "I know. You care about him so much."
"I just..." Sam spoke through the fabric. "I just want to be good."
"Sammy, listen to me," Pam said, pulling her daughter away and brushing the hair out of her face. "You are a kind, good, beautiful, intelligent and thoughtful young woman. If Mrs. Benson can't see that then she's dumber than a football bat."
"And you believe that?" Sam responded in disbelief.
"Every word. Now eat your joe before it gets cold. I have to make sure I finish the cupcakes for your father's stupid dinner are ready."
"Y-you and Dad are going out tonight?"
"Yeah some company dinner his boss is putting together. We're going to BF Wangs, so at least I'll be able to bring home something edible for when I don't feel like cooking...which is always." She chuckled to herself.
"Can you get me an order of those crab wanton things?"
"Sure thing, Turtleduck." She leaned in close. "That is if your Daddy doesn't eat them on the way home like last time. Ugh. I don't know why I have to bring something if we're going to a restaurant. It seems so, I dunno,"
"Redundant?" Sam asked.
Pam grinned, proudly. "See? You're totally smart. Smarter than I was at your age." She kissed her daughter on the forehead before heading back to the kitchen. "Maybe I can just cheat and make them out of a box mix..."
Sam picked up her sloppy joe and looked at her mother's back. "Hey, Mom..."
"Yeah?"
There was a long pause before Sam could bring up enough courage to ask. "Are you happy?"
"I will be when I find three boxes of cake mix."
Sam shook her head. "No I mean...with me, and Dad and Mel...our life together," she asked. Pam turned to face her daughter, slightly stunned by the question. "Are you happy?"
Pam smiled from ear to ear. "Very happy."
Sam stood in her room, looking at it in the light. She couldn't remember the last time she was home at sunset and now it was beginning to turn to dusk. Nothing seemed to have changed. Her bed was still a simple rod-iron bed with a cover and sheets she may as well not put on, but always did anyway. The walls were green, like the rest of the house: a light mossy color that didn't match anything else around it. Nothing was different, yet everything was. There was no stranger feeling than that.
You are a kind, beautiful, intelligent, and thoughtful young woman.
She wasn't talking about her. She was talking about the Sam from this dream, the one who somehow managed to be free of the need to torment others for attention, the one Freddie loved and Carly envied. The one who made it on the honor roll and had a bright future ahead of her. That Sam was smart and beautiful and loyal and kind...but that Sam wasn't her. Maybe if she just heard those words...maybe if someone truly believed she could be all of those things, then things would be different. But nothing was different. Sam was still Sam. It wasn't fair for her to stay.
The door opened, a face popping in. Sam turned away from it. "Sorry, I should have knocked," Freddie's voice snuck into the room.
"No, it's cool."
He walked further into the room. "Listen, Sam-"
"It's okay. You don't have to explain anything," she said. "Just come in." Freddie made his way to the bed and sat. Sam went to the door. "I gotta talk to you."
"Yeah, I figured that's why you invited me over." Sam didn't reply. She shut the door, leaning her forehead against the wood. "Is it about Carly? Did you go over there? Did she say something to you?" Sam, again, didn't respond. How would she even begin to explain to him everything that was happening? "Was it something I did?" Sam bit her lip. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that."
"I can't do this," she finally said.
"Can't do...what?"
She turned around to face him. "Freddie, listen to me. I'm not the girl that you think I am."
Freddie chortled. "Oh, is that all?" He lifted an eyebrow. "Listen Sam, if this is about what my Mom said then-"
"It's not about that at all," Sam announced. "What I mean is, I'm not...from here."
Freddie scrunched his eyebrows, his lips tightening into a closed smile. "Huh?"
Sam sighed. "Remember how I hit that TV a couple days ago and I told you I had amnesia? Well...I lied." She clenched her fists. "Okay, I didn't one hundred percent lie. I kind of do have amnesia in that I have no idea what is going on half the time in this place. Everything is so different. But I didn't tell you everything."
"Okay," Freddie sat up.
"I do have memories. They just don't...match what's currently happening. It's like, one day I was Sam Puckett and now, well now I'm still Sam Puckett, but not the Sam Puckett I was, but the one you know, who I know nothing about who apparently got all A's and knows how to eat with good manners and I'm so confused right now I think I'm going to explode!"
"I...don't follow."
"Ugh. I smashed the TV and it sent me to this weird alternate universe or put me in a coma or something where my mom is nice, and my dad is back, and you and I are a couple and Carly still has iCarly but it's all wrong and she's into you, but you're completely in love with Me...er...Sam and she's mean to Spencer all cause she went to that stupid Briarwood prep school-"
Freddie stood, holding his hands up. "Hold on, wait, slow down...I have no idea what you're trying to tell me." She stopped talking to look at him. "I love you, but you're acting more insane than usual."
"But that's just it though! You don't love me! You love Carly...and...and...you and I we hate each other. But, not really, we kind of like each other. It's complicated."
Freddie scrunched his nose. "...I'm in love with Carly?"
"Yes!"
"Ew."
"No! Not ew! She's different. She's...nice..." Sam shook her head. "But the Sam you know and fell in love with, that's not me."
"Okay, so let me get this straight. You can't remember anything, because you got electrocuted by the television when you foolishly smashed it with a baseball bat a few nights ago..."
"Right!"
"But you remember all of this other stuff that never actually happened?" he asked. "Like...me being in love with Carly?"
"No, because it's this world that's the fake one!"
Freddie crossed his arms. "And how do you know that?"
"Because my-" She grew quiet. "Look, the things I knew back home, they're too real to imagine. And everything here is too wonderful to be real." Freddie stared at her, still thinking she's pulling his leg. "You wanna see the real Sam? This..." she spun around, showing off her outfit. "This isn't Sam." She ran over to the corner where she found a comb and began ratting her hair. She unzipped her jacket and allowed her bra-strap to show by pulling her shirt down. "I wear boxer shorts, and beat up children and..." She pulled up her shirt. "There used to be a scar here when my mom threw a squirrel at me when I was ten. It's completely gone now! Every scar, every bruise, my skin is peaches and cream!" She ran to her closet where she found a bag of old cheese puffs. Stuffing a bunch of them in her mouth, she chewed with the worst manners possible, showing them off to Freddie. "Blahhhhh I luff cheese. In puff form." She stuck out her tongue at him before swallowing. "Do you get it now?"
Freddie shook his head, laughing. "Sam, you're not perfect. That doesn't mean you're a monster from another dimension." He sat back down. "I promise you, there is nothing you could do that I haven't seen you do before."
"But-"
"Do you really think I'm not going to love you anymore just because of a few negative attributes?"
"Attri-I'm a freak of nature!"
Freddie shrugged. "I disagree."
"But...but that's..."
"Is there a point to all of this or are you just messing with me?" Freddie asked. "I mean, I love science fiction role play as much as the next guy, but I never thought you liked-"
"So you don't believe me?" Sam asked, changing the tone considerably. She shouldn't have been surprised, he never believed her before, why should that change with just a few alterations to a timeline? If that even was what was going on. She couldn't tell anymore.
"I guess I just don't see how it matters," he replied. Sam wasn't expecting that. "This world, that world, those memories or these..."
"I don't really expect you to get it," Sam mumbled. "Your memories of me are different than mine are of you. But..." She looked at him as gently as she could. "I can't keep going on like this, knowing..."
"Sam..." he said, matching her gaze. He was so much better at it than she was. "If this is seriously bugging you, then you need to just tell me."
"I tried. But you don't-"
"I never said I didn't believe you," he contradicted. "And if it's real to you, then that means it is true." He reached out his hand for Sam to take. Sam stared at it, skeptically, but took it and joined Freddie on the bed. "So start from the beginning."
Sam sighed, looking at her shoes. "My Dad left my mom before I was able to walk. She blamed me because I was always a difficult kid. I puked in her car when I was six years old. It's just me and her in this house. Same house, though, except there are boxes and old newspapers all over the place. Pizza boxes, rotting food, you name it. The place smells like a compost."
"Gross...and oddly specific."
"So because my Dad left, my mom always had other guys over...all of the time. It was fine except when I did something wrong. She made me participate in beauty pageants for money, wasted all of that time and dough on dance lessons and I never won a single pageant. I hated them, too. But she wouldn't let me quit..."
"Sam..." Freddie's voice grew very quiet.
"What?"
"Do you remember your mom ever...like...hitting you?"
"All the time."
Freddie became stiff. "Is that why you-" he stopped. Sam could feel he was becoming uncomfortable. "You thought it was happening to me?" Sam nodded. "That makes a lot of sense."
"What do you mean?"
"Your mom told me that you had a freak out Thursday morning. You dove behind the table because you thought she was going to hit you. She was really scared by it."
"Oh."
"Why do you think you have visions like that?"
Sam stood up. "They're not visions, Freddie! They're memories!"
"Right, sorry. Memories..." He was still for a long time. "I can't imagine Pam doing something like that."
"That lady downstairs isn't my mother," Sam said coldly. "But she is, in a way. Just like Carly is still Carly and Spencer is still Spencer...Gibby will always be Gibby..."
"And me?"
Sam grinned. "You're definitely still you. Warts and all."