Serendipity (Book 2)

Bad Luck And Ghosts by silent-entrance

FanFiction.net

Bad Luck and Ghosts by silent-entrance

TV » iCarly
Rated: T
Language: English
Genre: Hurt/Comfort & Angst
Characters: Sam P., Melanie P.
Words: 2,133
Published: Jun 29, 2011

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Melanie Puckett got drunk and stumbled in front of a car the day before her 17th birthday, and Samantha Puckett had never hated her more. Because, really, who the fuck did she think she was? She had already left her once, no need to do it again.

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Carly Shay couldn't help but be a little bit worried when she walked into the Puckett household (small, messy, a bit overwhelming, just like her best friend) to wish the girl in question a happy 17th birthday and saw her calmly throwing mirrors at the wall across from her.

"That's, uh," she said awkwardly as she walked in, Freddie a few steps behind. "That's a lot of bad luck." Sam didn't respond, just picked up another small hand mirror and threw it at the wall across from the sofa she was sitting on.

"Sam?" Freddie tried cautiously, holding onto Carly's wrist to stop her as she made to walk over to her friend. "What are you doing?"

"91 years' worth," she said quietly, still staring at the wall as though it was a math sum she couldn't figure out. Freddie and Carly looked at each other, confused.

"... Sorry?"

"13 mirrors, so that's 91 years' worth of bad luck."

"And... why are you smashing mirrors?"

Sam suddenly looked toward them, her eyes unfocused.

"Did you know we were completely identical? Sometimes I would wake up in the morning and forget which one I was."

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Carly did her hair on the morning of the funeral because looking in mirrors made her forget there was no such thing as ghosts.

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It was weird, seeing people who she felt like she knew but she didn't really. That red-haired girl, she'd seen pictures of her in Melanie's monthly 'I'm sorry I pussied out because I don't like when things aren't easyperfectfun and that you hate me but I'm still going to pretend to be a good person by contacting you' email but she actually knew nothing about her.

There were a lot of double takes and paled faces and what the fucks before it clicked that that must be the sister she'd mentioned that one time, and imagine what that poor girl is going through.

The funeral was short and sweet, just like her sister. She was going to say something, about the sister she once had when they were both a bit younger and a bit more fragile but she just shook her head when it was her turn to get up and celebrate how stupid the girl was, because no one wanted to hear the stories she had and to be honest, she knew as much about the new-and-improved (and dead, she's fucking dead) Melanie Puckett as she did that red-head. And she didn't even know her name.

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Carly and Freddie were just waiting for the explosion of tears and screaming and swearing because one day Sam was quiet and the next she was walking into the Shay's apartment like she owned the place and eating everything in their fridge, and they could only fix her if she was broken.

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They thought they were going to get it two weeks after the day-which-they-didn't-talk-about. Sam and Carly were on the couch watching crappy 2am T.V, Sam's feet on her best friends lap as Freddie helped Spencer paint a sculpture which no one could figure out the meaning of in the kitchen.