*****

24
1:00 PM – 2:00 PM
 "But Why Are the Hotdogs Gone?"

*****

Zell Dincht's voice finally found its way to his lips.

"Are you trying to tell me that there's no hotdogs left?!" His fists balled up at his sides, his body starting to shake violently as he pivoted from one foot to the other breaking into a fighting stance.

"Yes," replied the cafeteria lady calmly.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," she said, wagging a serving spoon towards the sold-out sign, and then saying words which were a dagger through Zell's heart: "Order something else or please get out of line."

He sighed and stepped out of the line, but not before sending a single punch through the air. The lunch lady could have at least saved him one measly hotdog for their best customer.

Their former best customer, anyway.

Taking a seat at the usual table in the back next to his comrades, Zell Dincht decided that he was not going to buy from Balamb Garden's cafeteria ever again; just sitting in it was making him sick. He would rather starve than fork over his hard-earned Gil to the hotdog fascists, instead he'd . . .

. . . Mooch off his friends.

"Hey Selphie, I see that you have two hot dogs on your plate," he said, sliding a gloved hand towards the off-white tray [not so] inconspicuously. "I know such a tiny girl like you couldn't finish two of those. I mean, think of the calories."

"Hey, back off chickenwuss!" She quickly scooted away and, once safely out of his reach, made a show of taking a bite from each one and then licking her lips. "Wow, I swear, these are the best hotdogs I've ever had."

Barely able to contain himself, he turned to Quistis and then promptly looked away in disgust after seeing that all she had was salad.

"Squall?"

Zell received a headshake in response; the garden's commander was too busy shoving hot dogs into his mouth to give a verbal reply.

"Irvine?"

He chanced a glance at where Irvine always sat and discovered that the cowboy was absent.

"Yeah, Irvy said he was feeling under the weather when I talked to him earlier this morning," Selphie said, noticing Zell's questioning look. "He told me not to worry, though, that he'd see Dr. Kadowaki later today . . ."

"Probably had some vodka at last night's SeeD inauguration," Quistis murmured disdainfully, taking a stab at her salad. "Hangovers can be horrendous, he probably couldn't bear the thought of his little 'Sefie' seeing him after being inebriated."

Selphie finished her second hot dog. "I'm sure that's not it, Quistis. You were on everyone like a hawk about underage drinking anyway, it's not like he could've slipped a drink."

"It's bad for you, you know," the instructor continued as her voice changed to a more condescending tone. "I mean, aren't you glad you didn't have any during your inauguration, Squall?"

Somewhat perturbed at being dragged into conversation, Squall shrugged. "Whatever. At least I wouldn't have had to remember you professing your love to me."

The table grew silent aside from Selphie's snickering and Quistis' fork as it impaled pieces of lettuce. Zell stared off into the distance. He was bleakly wondering if he would ever taste another hotdog in his life and his stomach rumbled uncontrollably as he imagined the tasty treat ensconced on a slightly toasted bun and smothered in relish, ketchup, and mustard being handed to him by the pig-tailed girl . . .

*****

Irvine Kinneas stared at the ceiling of his new room as he lay on his bed and thought about last night's ball where Rinoa and he had officially become SeeDs. So this was what being a true SeeD instead of an honorary member was like: bigger rooms, sexier uniforms, and more respect. While the first two were important, more respect was definitely where it was at for Irvine. He couldn't get enough of his new position, he loved walking down the Garden's halls and getting the winks he sent at girls returned to him, even if it was just because of his uniform.

And maybe with more respect and, consequently more confidence, he could finally successfully make his move on a certain female. This was a thought he liked even more than receiving affectionate from random women and also a thought he was planning to put into action this very night.

In fact, he wasn't even the slightest bit sick; he'd just pretended to be when Selphie had knocked on his door so he could prepare for tonight – he needed to set up reservations at the Balamb Café and order a dozen yellow roses. It was the night he was going to tell the girl his true feelings and, unlike the times before, he wasn't going to be interrupted by Squall, he wasn't going to mess it up by checking out other women, and wasn't going to accept anything other than yes. Tonight he was surely going to turn their friendship into something more.

Smiling faintly, Irvine slid off the bed and grabbed absently at the top of his dresser for his cowboy hat. His hand hit the cold surface. His hat was not there. He felt a panicky feeling rising from his chest: Where was his hat? He'd worn that hat for the past six years, he hadn't let a soul touch it except for Selphie; he hadn't even washed it.

It was his good luck hat and he definitely needed luck for tonight.

"Where the hell is it," he muttered, deadpanning the room, his eyes resting on his alarm clock which read 1:59pm for a moment. "Where is it?"

*****

Author's Note: Format shamelessly yanked from the series 24 (which, mind you, I haven't even watched). Twenty-four chapters, twenty-four hours at Balamb Garden with the cast of Final Fantasy VIII. Also note that this isn't purely a story about one or two characters; chapters will alternate between telling various subplots thus hopefully sating all fans needs whether one prefers Squall Leonhart, Selphie Tilmitt, Rinoa Heartilly, Irvine Kinneas, Quistis Trepe, or Zell Dincht. – selphie@balamb.com