The comments under today's iCarly episode were cruel.
Since the webshow first started, Carly insisted on keeping the comments open—unfiltered, uncensored. She said it was to stay real, to let fans connect with them more personally. Sam knew part of it was just to add to the chaos, to let fans feel like they were part of something wild and imperfect.
But tonight, the feedback didn't feel so fun.
Sam read each comment as she sat on her bed. Her sandwich—extra ham, extra bacon, the way she liked it—sat unfinished beside her. The fridge at Carly's place had been practically empty, so she had to scrounge something together when she got home. The hunger had been gnawing at her since the moment she left the studio.
As usual, most of the comments were lighthearted. Fans laughed about the pogo stick crash, the "Hot Pepper Freeze Tag" bit, and Spencer's usual weirdness. Some praised Carly for her comedic timing—how pretty she looked. A few mentioned Freddie, a handful even said something about his "glow-up" lately.
But hardly anyone ever mentioned Sam.
She was used to it. It didn't bother her. Not really.
She scrolled with one hand, chewing on her sandwich with the other, until her eyes landed on a comment that made her stomach twist:
iCarlyFan_2000: This episode was LEGENDARY Sam's pogo stick crash had me in tears!
CarlySlaysU: Why does Carly literally never have a bad hair day?
FreddieCamTruthers: Okay, but Freddie is kinda hot now? Like, since when?
ChickNuggetFan: Give us more Spencer plsss
samantha_ew: ngl, Sam's kinda built like a linebacker
anonAnon543: Is Sam okay? She looks… different, idk.
tacotuesday42: CARLY = QUEEN, FREDDIE = CUTIE, SAM =… uh
PrettyGirlCore: Why does Sam dress like she lost a bet?
user728188: Her thighs look like they're fighting for space in those jeans
legendofjerky: She used to be funny. Now she's just mean and chubby. Not a good combo.
iluvcarly13: I LOVE U CARLYYY
freddiexheart: Freddie blinked at 04:23 and I'm pregnant
anonymous: fr tho, Sam needs to hit the gym. Bacon girl isn't funny anymore.
icedcoffeeaddict: Not to be rude but someone needs to tell Sam crop tops aren't for everyone.
pogoFailFan: Sam's fall was funny but like... there was a lot of jiggle
commentchick123: Y'all are mean af. Leave Sam alone
CarlyandMe4Ever: Carly glows every episode. Sam looks tired.
bigfootfan88: Sam has gained weight. Just saying. Go rewatch the first few webshows lol.
Sam's eyes locked on the last comment. She read it again. Then again.
Bigfootfan88 was right.
The weight was there. She could see it in the way her jeans fit, how her shirt hugged her more than it used to. She'd noticed it too, but she'd been ignoring it. She had to.
But tonight?
It felt like everyone else had seen it too.
Her stomach twisted into knots. The sandwich in her hand suddenly felt too greasy, too heavy. She chewed slowly, trying to push the sick feeling down.
Her eyes scanned the comments again. A dozen people gushed over Carly. Half of them joked about Freddie's awkward moments. But the only comment that seemed to stick to her like glue was the one that criticized her appearance.
The one that made her stomach churn.
Her thighs were huge. Her belly was spilling.
It didn't matter that she had already dealt with trolls before. Tonight, those words felt different.
Sam set the sandwich down on the blanket, her appetite gone. Her stomach tightened uncomfortably as she wiped her hands, staring blankly at the screen.
Maybe she didn't care what they thought...
But it was hard to ignore when the weight she'd been avoiding felt so… real.
With a sharp sigh, Sam slammed the laptop shut. She flicked off the light beside her bed, her thoughts swirling in the darkness.
To hell with them.
Sam was hot. She knew it.
But for the first time in a long time, the conviction didn't come as easily.
The morning after, Sam had already forgotten the doubts that crept in the night before.
She was back to her usual routine, no lingering self-consciousness in sight. The alarm blared obnoxiously, and she threw it at the wall without thinking. It hit with a satisfying thud. As was typical of her.
She blinked her eyes open, groggy and disheveled. Her mismatched socks were a daily trademark—right one covered by her bedsheet, the left one hanging off her toe. The right leg of her sweats had somehow migrated up to her knee, and her T-shirt was slipping off her shoulder, barely clinging to her as she sat up.
Her hair? A rat's nest. Her mouth? The taste of stale sleep and forgotten dreams.
With a grunt, she stumbled into the bathroom. The light above her flickered. Her mom was nowhere to be found. Same story as always.
She brushed her teeth, halfheartedly. No real intention of doing it well. As she combed through her hair, she winced every couple of seconds, muttering a string of quiet "ows."
She splashed water on her face and stared at her reflection.
Just Sam. Sam, who didn't care. She didn't care about much, anyway.
The coffee machine buzzed. She poured a mug—generous cream, heavy sugar. Perfect.
Time to get dressed. Her jeans clung tighter now, her T-shirt hugged her arms. The jacket didn't zip. She didn't care. Sam Puckett didn't care about looks.
She sipped her coffee, grabbed her keys, muttered an "Ugh" at the clock, and trudged to the bus stop.
The sight of Carly—and, well, the nub—cheered her up a little.
"Hey Carly, hey Fredork," she tossed over her shoulder, heading to her locker. She popped it open to reveal Fat Cakes nestled among her stuff.
"Why are you eating a Fat Cake in the morning?" Freddie asked, concerned.
Sam shrugged. "Just hungry."
"Don't start with the 'nutrition talk,' Freddie," Carly cut in. "Sam's Sam."
Sam nodded. She didn't need anyone to fight her battles. But sometimes, it was nice to know someone would.
"So—ready for gym class?" Carly asked brightly.
Sam groaned. "Yeah, no. Might just ditch."
Carly giggled and poked her side. "Exercise gets your energy up!"
Sam stiffened. Her smile faltered—but only for a second.
"Yeah, okay," she said, flat. "Maybe I'll do a backflip and land in traction."
Freddie chimed in again. "Seriously though. Eating nothing but Fat Cakes and skipping gym—how are you not, like, asleep by third period?"
"Talent," Sam replied flatly.
They headed to history. Sam slouched into her back-corner seat and dropped her bag with a thud.
The second the lecture started, she folded her arms and rested her head. Mr. Porter's voice faded into background noise.
But the longer she sat, the more uncomfortable she felt.
Something pressed against her sides. Like a book wedged under her shirt. She reached to adjust it—
Nothing there. Just skin and fabric. Just the soft curve of her waist pressing tight against the seam of her jeans.
She froze, then slowly withdrew her hand. Didn't make a face. Didn't sigh. Just stared ahead too long.
Mr. Porter's voice droned on.
She sat up straighter. Crossed her arms over her chest.
It was just the jeans. They'd shrunk in the wash.
Or whatever.