Thinking

Freddie was having a hard time focusing on his math teacher. Try though he might, he couldn't follow Mr. Bentley for more than five seconds at a time. He knew this information was important, since they had a big test coming up in less than three days, but all he wanted to do right now was stare out the window.

He thought he'd excuse himself to go to the bathroom and clear his head when he felt something actually hit his head. Out of the corner of his eye, Freddie saw a crumpled-up piece of paper drop onto the floor. It eventually settled near his feet. He looked around to see who had thrown it, and found Sam gazing at him from across the room. Instead of sneering at him like she normally did, she appeared to be studying him. Almost like she was measuring something.

Freddie stuck his hands out at his sides. What?

Sam pointed fervently at the balled-up sheet of looseleaf. Giving her a scowl, Freddie bent over to retrieve the paper. He carefully straightened it out, trying to make as little noise as possible...

"Mr. Benson, do you have a question?" Mr. Bentley had stopped his lecturing. He was now staring at Freddie. Thinking fast, Freddie grabbed his pencil and began feigning writing notes on the paper.

"No, I just ran out of looseleaf," he said with his nose to the desk. Mr. Bentley hesitated for a moment, then nodded. His facial muscles relaxed.

Freddie shot Sam another withering stare before glancing once more at the paper. His eyebrows furrowed. Are you okay? He was about to turn around and ask Sam what she meant by this when comprehension dawned. Word had apparently gotten out that he and Wendy broke-up this morning before school. He hadn't had a chance to fill-in Carly and Sam yet. Freddie swiveled his neck and nodded at Sam. He was okay. The blonde however continued studying him, as if she didn't buy it.

A few minutes later, once Mr. Bentley was back in the swing of his lecture, Freddie felt another paper ball strike his temple. He stuck his hands out again, this time more irritably, but Sam simply pointed at the paper once more. Freddie sighed while he scooped it up.

"Mr. Benson, that's the second time I've seen you with crumpled-up paper." Freddie's heart stopped. Not only had Mr. Bentley caught him, but as he faced the front of the room, he saw that Mr. Bentley was now walking straight towards him. This usually meant one thing.

"Now let's see what's so important." Mr. Bentley held out his hand. With the utmost reluctance, Freddie gave him the paper. Mr. Bentley unfolded it, his eyes quickly scanning whatever was written on it. His expression however became quite muddled.

"What is this?" he asked Freddie. He shifted the paper so Freddie could see. Freddie took one, unwilling glimpse at the message and nearly flipped. It wasn't written in English. Or Spanish, or Italian. It was written in Juveron, a fictional language that was created for the Galaxy Wars films.

"Oops, that one's mine." Freddie turned around to see Sam slipping off her seat and sashaying over in his direction. Mr. Bentley regarded Sam with a look of mild suspicion.

"This is yours?" he asked.

"Yep," Sam replied arrogantly. "I've run out of words in the English language to insult Freddie with, so I'm inventing my own." Mr. Bentley cocked an eyebrow. Sam, who was now standing toe-to-toe with him, could clearly see he wasn't angry enough yet. "But uh...I'm having a hard time 'cause I'm listening to your stupid lecture while doing it."

Freddie squirmed in his seat. He knew Sam was trying to direct all Mr. Bentley's heat at herself, so he wouldn't get in trouble. The thing was, she was nearing her quota; if she got in trouble again this semester, she might get suspended.

Mr. Bentley's lip trembled. "Sit down right now Ms. Puckett. I'm giving you a warning. Next time I have to say anything to you, we're going to have a little chat with Principal Franklin. Mr. Benson, I expect you to give me your undivided attention from now on."

"Yes sir!" Sam chirped. She saluted Mr. Bentley and headed back toward her seat. Mr. Bentley returned to his place at the front of the classroom, completely forgetting that Freddie still had the paper. Freddie meanwhile had already translated Sam's message.

Want to get a (drink) after school. Again, Freddie frowned. Get a drink? It almost sounded like she wanted to go to the bar. And why did she have 'drink' surrounded by parentheses. Thinking for a bit, and he cast a furtive glance at Sam. She was looking back. Using his fingers, Freddie formed the letter 'G', and then the letter 'S', followed by a shrugging gesture. Sam nodded vigorously at him. Freddie replied with an affirmative nod.

Sam was asking him if he wanted to go to the Groovy Smoothie. But she couldn't write smoothie since, understandably, there was not a word for smoothie in Juveron. As for how Sam even knew that Juveron was a made-up, yet usable language...

Freddie made sure Sam was still looking at him. He pointed at her a few times.

You.

He stuck a thumb up in the air.

Like.

Freddie had to think about this one a bit. He formed his hands into the shape of guns and shot off several imaginary laser beams, and then added the shrugging gesture.

Galaxy Wars?

Freddie could almost hear Sam snort. She shook her head. She resumed doodling on her desk. If Freddie wasn't mistaken however, he thought he caught an unintended smile flicker across her features.

A few minutes went by, and Freddie was once again struggling to concentrate on Mr. Bentley's lecture. He had his chin on his palm, about to drift off in thought, when he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Sam, as discreetly as possible, was waving at him. Freddie made a small shrug.

Sam molded her fingers into an 'R.'

Are.

She shot her index finger right at him.

You.

She curled her fingers into a light fist, brought her knuckles to the side of her eye, and rotated her hand by the wrist back and forth. She finished with a shrug.

Sad?

Freddie had a mild urge to chuckle. Sam Puckett never failed to surprise him. Though they fought with each other every day since they met, once in a while, once in a very rare while, when things weren't going so hot, Sam would come through for him. Or at least she tried to. 'Sad' really wasn't the word to describe Freddie's current state of mind, and that was part of the reason why he was such a space cadet today.

Freddie held out his hand and twisted his arm to the left and right a few times.

A little.

Sam stared. There was a brief pause, and then she pointed at herself.

I.

She formed the letter 'M' with her fingers.

Am.

She brought her fist back to her eye, rotating by the wrist.

Sad.

Sam then gestured several times from herself to Freddie. Although it took Freddie a while, he eventually understood.

For you.

Freddie blinked. It was hard to wrap his mind around this, although judging from her visage Sam meant every word. He could count on his right hand the number of times Sam expressed any type of empathy for him. He was in the middle of brainstorming for a worthy response when the last voice he wanted to hear interrupted his thoughts.

"Mr. Benson, Ms. Puckett, that's the third time you've disrupted this class!" Mr. Bentley, was now standing right next to Freddie's desk, and losing his cool. He glared severely at Sam and Freddie. The two friends in turn kept glancing back and forth from each other, until:

"YOU'VE DONE IT NOW FUDGEBAG!" Sam suddenly shouted. She eyed Freddie intently for a second before vaulting from her seat. She tore past the desks from her column, looped around, and headed straight for Freddie.

"Sam, that's ENOUGH!" Mr. Bentley hollered. He tried to get in-between Freddie and the approaching Sam, but the blonde pushed him aside. Sam seized Freddie by the arm. She hesitated. 'Sorry,' she mouthed before yanking Freddie off his seat and slamming him to the ground.

"PUCKETT! PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE! NOW!"

"Aww man!" Sam whined as though she didn't care at all.

Freddie coughed from his position on the floor. Sam had knocked the wind right out of him. He lifted his head up just in time to catch Sam trudging out the door in mockingly apologetic fashion. Prior to disappearing from view, she gave him one last glance. Though it was only for a fleeting moment, the instance when their gazes interlocked seemed much longer. Freddie found Sam's expression completely unreadable.

"Are you okay Freddie?" Mr. Bentley asked. He stuck out a hand, but Freddie was already climbing to his feet. Freddie fell back in his desk, his heart beating quickly. "I'm sorry, I know she gives you a hard time. Maybe...oh I don't know, maybe if she thought about someone besides herself for once, we'd all be better off." Mr. Bentley walked back to the front of the room with his head bowed down. "Are you sure you don't want to go see the nurse?"

But once again, Mr. Bentley's pupil wasn't giving his full attention. Freddie Benson, whose mind appropriately worked much like a video camera, was rewinding and fast-forwarding the scene that just occurred over and over. Something happened, not just two minutes ago but over the past several months, of which he was not quite certain. This was what had been occupying his mind so much today, and the little incident that just transpired somehow fit into all of it.

When he was satisfied, Freddie focused his attention on Mr. Bentley. He could make out Sam's empty desk from his periphery. A smile slowly grew on his face.

Sam shook her foot nervously while she sat on a chair outside Principal Franklin's office. Principal Franklin was presently talking to someone else, so she had to wait out there until they were done. Sometimes she wished she had more self-control. Freddie was right long ago when he said she had none. She just didn't want to see the doof get a detention, not on the same day as breaking-up with someone. She supposed it would have been smarter to wait until after class to talk to him, but she couldn't wait any longer to make sure he was okay. Not that she wanted him to know this.

Stupid conscience. Sam wasn't worried about the suspension. Suspensions were old turkey. Been there, done that. The truth was, she had sort of fibbed last week when she told Freddie about her quota and the pending suspension. The word Franklin had actually used was 'expulsion.' She didn't want him to know because she knew he would worry. Freddie always worried.

Maybe being expelled won't be so bad. I'll have more time to work on iCarly. Maybe if the show becomes famous enough, we can make a career thing out of it.

"Is this seat taken?"

Sam looked to see who had interrupted her musing and saw Freddie standing next to her. Shocked at first, she quickly got over it when she realized what must have happened.

"Dude, Bentley still sent you here?" Freddie plopped down onto the chair next to Sam. He nodded his head.

"Yeah, I tried to talk him out of it after you left, but he made me come too."

"Dammit! That's just what I was trying to avoid! Who still sends a kid to the Principal's office after he gets attacked?"

"Don't worry, Principal Franklin likes me. I'm sure I can convince him not to give me detention." Freddie paused. "Thanks though. It meant a lot." With one hand, Freddie playfully ruffled Sam's hair and brought her head to rest against his shoulder. Just as he expected, Sam pushed him away.

"Alright, alright, don't get all touchy."

Freddie smiled to himself. Among other things, he neglected to tell Sam that he was actually sent to the Principal's office for calling Mr. Bentley's lectures "worse than the stuff that leaks out of Gibby's butt." Or that he had no intention of talking his way out of detention, that he fully intended on serving detention with Sam (which would assuredly be the least of their punishments) as an excuse to spend time with her. Or that he had spent the whole morning thus far thinking about his recent break-ups with Carly and Wendy, and how they should have bothered him a lot more than they really did, and that perhaps the reason for why they didn't bother him as much was sitting in the chair right next to him.

Sam didn't notice, but Freddie stared at her an awful lot while they waited for Principal Franklin. And Sam thought about Freddie an awful lot too.

Disclaimer - I do not own iCarly, its characters, nor any other shows, characters, music, and/or movies that may be referenced.

AN: Oh my God, did this author actually write something that's not a crack-fic? Is he turning over a new leaf? Will he write more serious stories in the future? Well, I'm not turning over a new leaf, but I might write other non-ridiculous fics in the future if I am so inspired. What would you guys think about a Halloween fic? A real one, as in a genuinely scary one? William Peter Blatty, the guy who wrote The Exorcist, started as a comedy writer after all.