I don't own iCarly.

This is a writer's block destroyer. Based off the Twilight Zone (sorta). It may become a multi chap. I thank Pigwiz, Techman, and KingxLeon21 for humoring me. Remember: encouragement is half the writing process.

Let us follow Wendy, age 16. She is known throughout the school for her wonderful ability to know everything and everyone. She knows which teachers are retiring next year, she knows who filled yesterday's Mac & Cheese with hot sauce, and she even knows how big the school budget is. But this knowledgeable gossip girl hides a secret from the rest of us. She has her eyes set on a boy. The problem is this boy doesn't know. Let us follow Wendy as she travels on the boulevard of broken dreams which leads straight through...the Seddie Zone.

Wendy yawned as she glanced at the clock. The last class of the day always seemed longest. Today was no exception as the usual 80 minute period had dragged on for roughly three and a half years. Anymore of Mrs. Briggs' torturous voice and Wendy's brain was going to drip out her ears.

Maybe that wouldn't be too bad, she thought as the mean teacher began another long winded lecture about the proper placement of commas. At least I wouldn't have to listen to this windbag.

The loud, harsh sound of the bell jolted Wendy from her thoughts and partly from her seat. Smoothing out her shirt, she looked around hoping that none of her classmates had seen her jump. With a sigh of relief, Wendy found that everyone was too busy packing up to have noticed her moment of uncool.

She shoved all her papers into her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. Wendy had been waiting all day to enact her plan. Operation Freddie officially began now. Wendy hurried (while not looking too hurried) to where she knew Freddie would be immediately after last period. His locker.

Ever since she realized she thought Freddie was kind of cute, she wanted to ask him out. But Wendy wasn't the sort of person to jump into anything unprepared. So she spent two long weeks gathering any information she could find about Freddie (whose name happens to be Fredward) Benson. Last night she read over her notes to get her facts straight and today was the day she would snag Freddie as her boyfriend.

Wendy rounded the corner to the familiar hallway. Her eyes scanned the mass of students. No Freddie. But there was Carly putting her books into her locker. Wendy smiled to herself. Carly will know where Freddie is.

She approached the brunette just as she was turning around.

Carly stepped back in surprise. "Whoa! Well, you came out of nowhere."

"Sorry," said Wendy, "But I sorta need your help."

"Okay. What do you need?"

"I need to know where Freddie is."

"Freddie?" Carly tilted her head questioningly, "Why do you need to know where he is?"

"Er...," she hesitated, "There's something I gotta tell him is all."

Carly raised an eyebrow. "Alright. Knowing what you're going to tell him would be nice, but you don't have to tell me. Freddie should be at the usual place."

Wendy frowned. "The usual place? You mean his locker? Because I looked and he wasn't there."

"No," Carly said, shaking her head, "He's at the—"

The iCarly theme song interrupted. Carly fumbled through her bag for her phone. When she found it, she put it up to her ear.

"Hello?"

Wendy listened as a garbled voice caused Carly's face to whiten.

"Yes. Yes. Okay. I'll be there right away."

Carly ended the call.

"My brother fell down the stairs and broke his legs. And after I told him not to make that banana peel and ball bearing statue. Sorry, Wendy, I have to go."

Wendy protested, "Wait, but where's Fre—"

Carly was already heading towards the door. "Sorry but I really have to go!" she shouted back. And she was gone.

Damn. Wendy sighed. Hopefully he's still at school. Quickly deciding that first on the list of susceptible places would be the computer lab, she took off at a brisk pace. When Wendy reached the lab, she grabbed the door handle and gave it a yank. Locked. She peered through the glass door. It was completely dark. Frustrated, she turned around to head to the school office, the next place on her list. Freddie was known to help out with odd jobs to get community service hours. However, Wendy hadn't taken more than a few steps when she collided with what felt to be a Jello filled balloon. Wendy fell and landed ungracefully on her butt. She looked up to see, not a balloon but a shirtless Gibby looking down apologetically at her.

"I'm so sorry, Wendy," Gibby reached down and grabbed her hand, "Here, let me help you up."

He gave a hard tug and she was on her feet again.

"Sorry. I was just—"

Wendy brushed herself off. "It's all right," she froze, "...GIBBY!"

The boy eyed her warily. "Um...yes?"

She grabbed his shoulders and shook him back and forth. "You're Freddie's friend! You know where he is!"

"Um...yes?"

"Well?" She demanded. "Where is he?"

Gibby gave her a strange look. "He's where he always is this time of day. He's—"

"GIBBY! GET BACK HERE YOU MISCREANT!"

His eyes widened in horror and his head jerked around. "Oh man, it's Briggs! You never saw me!"

Gibby wiggled free from Wendy's grasp and dashed into the supply closet next to them just as Mrs. Briggs came around the corner.

"You there! Have you seen Gibby? He's a boy about," she held her hand about a meter and a half off the ground, "yay high and," now separating her hands by a couple feet, "yay wide?"

"Maybe," Wendy replied, sensing an opportunity, "It depends on whether you know where Freddie Benson is or not."

Mrs. Briggs' eyes narrowed dangerously. "You will tell me where Gibby is or else I will—"

"Uh uh," Wendy interrupted in a sing-song voice, "Freddie Benson."

Mrs. Brigg's nostrils flared and her hands clenched into fists. "Fine," she began through gritted teeth, "Fredward Benson is—"

A loud crash from the supply closet halted her revelation. Gibby followed by 3 buckets and countless rolls of toilet paper tumbled to the ground beneath their feet.

"H-Hey, Mrs. B-Briggs," he stammered, "How h-have you been this f-fine afternoon?"

"Get up."

Gibby scrambled to his feet.

"Where's your shirt?"

"I-I...," he looked around, "I have no idea."

Mrs. Briggs grabbed him by the ear and said, "Come with me."

"But you haven't told me where Freddie is," Wendy complained.

Mrs. Briggs smirked maliciously. "That's because you never told me where Gibson was. Have a nice day."

The mean teacher left with Gibby in tow. Wendy growled in anger at both Mrs. Briggs and the fact that time was running out. The longer she searched, the greater the possibility that Freddie would leave the school which made her chances of finding him before she had to be home close to zero. And Wendy had never failed to accomplish any of her plans. Ever.

She checked her phone. It had already been 15 minutes since school ended. Freddie would probably be heading out by now. And idea popped into her mind. If he was leaving than she could save effort by just waiting for him at the doors. That way, she'll surely catch him in time.

With renewed energy, Wendy set off towards the front of the school. She dashed around corners, sprinted up hallways, and jumped down stairs. Panting for breath, she arrived at the front doors only a minute and a half after she came up with the idea. Wendy took out a pocket mirror and checked her reflection. She calmly put a misplaced hair back into place as she heard footsteps echoing through the empty hallway.

Wendy put away her mirror just in time to see Jeremy and Reuben appear from an adjacent corridor.

False alarm.

They made their way up to her.

"ACHOO! Hey, Wendy."

"The porcupine says cheese."

"Jeremy, Reuben," she said nodding to each.

Jeremy glanced around. "Um—ACHOO!—what are you—ACHOO!—standing here for?"

Wendy checked here phone again. "I'm waiting for Freddie. He'll be walking out soon."

"No, he—ACHOO!—won't."

"What? Why?"

"Because he's tangoing with my raspberry soccer ball under the shadow of an elephant,"Reuben replied bitterly.

She stared at the strange boy.

Jeremy offered a translation. "He—ACHOO!—means Freddie's—ACHOO! in the—ACHOO! ACHOO!—Wendy, are you—ACHOO!—wearing—ACHOO!—any perfume? ACHOO! I'm really—ACHOO! ACHOO!—reactive towards that—ACHOO!—stuff!"

Wendy wildly waved her hands in the air. Exasperated she demanded, "JUST TELL ME WHERE FREDDIE IS!"

Taking a scared step back, he said, "Okay—ACHOO!—he's in the—ACHOO!—cafeteria wi—"

"Thanks, Jeremy!" Wendy exclaimed. She hurriedly tightened the straps on her backpack and broke into a run.

Wendy was semi-fit so she made it across the school in only a couple minutes. She skidded to a stop outside the cafeteria double doors. Again she took out her mirror to adjust her hair. And again she heard a sound. Except this time it wasn't footsteps.

It was a moan.

Wide eyed, she inched the left door open a centimeter. She gasped.

There was Freddie...on top of...Sam Puckett! They were one of the long cafeteria tables, firmly attached at the lips, though mercifully with their clothes still on.

Wendy let the door swing shut. She leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. Of all the thoughts that were running through her head, the most prominent was: How?

Freddie and Sam were like cats and dogs, chocolate and vanilla, Yankees and Red Sox. Always opposite. Always fighting. Always so independent of each other. And now they were making out in the school cafeteria? What happened?

She gasped again, realizing an important fact. They all knew. Carly, Gibby, Mrs. Briggs, Reuben, Jeremy, they all knew. They all knew what was going on. They all knew where Freddie was. Where he always was.

They all knew he was with Sam.

And she didn't.

Wendy didn't know.

Maybe Sam and Freddie were destined for one another. Maybe not. But that doesn't matter because as far as Wendy knows, they are together. A pair. A couple. A relationship. A mutual understanding of companionship. Something that will never include her. This is what she knows. Wendy's hopes have been dashed. Her emotional state is soaked with despair. Not surprisingly, after she took a dip in what is...the Seddie Zone.

So I'm back in the proverbial black. This is just to get the juices running again after not writing anything for quite sometime. Please stick with me. I apologize for any inconveniences regarding the reading of fanfiction. None of my fics are abandoned. (There's one on hiatus.) I will resume writing My Mistake and hopefully Please, Tell Me. -James

Please review. Please. I said "please" and "review" so maybe...um...please review?