Swing Life Away (Sequel to "This Side")
Summary: In nine weeks so much can change, but then again a lot of things stay the same. Maybe it's because we want to believe that thing's have changed, but in reality we can't accept that they haven't.
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I don't own Zoey 101! I don't own any of the original characters, and the title is a song by Rise Against. However, I do own the plotline and I'm very protective of it. (I own the additional characters as well.)
Pairings: Wouldn't you like to know, eh? R/R!
A/N: Dana is in this story, Lola is out. Basically, this 'fic starts from where "This Side" took off.
Chapter One: A Million Ways
It continued on January 12th
Everyone was staring at him.
And not in a good way either.
After you practically throw yourself at an ocean, you don't exactly get "street cred" by the rest of your peers. You get looked at like you have leprosy. (Or some other disease that resembles Frosted Flakes.) He had has backpack on both of his shoulders and walked in a straight line, no "swag" or the usual Logan-Reese slouch, he just walked ahead to his dorm room which he was going to continue to share with Michael and Chase. (Since the faculty didn't trust Logan in a room by himself, they thought he'd try another "suicidal attempt".) This sucked, because Logan didn't figure what he did to be qualified and a "suicide".
He thought of it as more of an easy way out.
A way out of a hell that he continued to thrive on.
"Hey Dana", he waved to Dana as he swallowed down, his approach to her was subtle, and there was nothing to it that he thought Dana was opposed to. He wasn't undressing her with his eyes or using a semi-sarcastic tone. He was proper, practical something that not even Logan was used to.
Dana smiled a quant half smile, "Pop quiz in Algebra today. It's killer". She bit her bottom lip, trying to avoid any subject that had the underling tone of 'how are you feeling?' She refused to ask him that question; she knew Logan had way too much testosterone and pride to even answer a question like that, considering his current situation so instead she contemplated the perfect conversation question that wouldn't offend Logan in any way. "Sushi Rox is um – it's gone all Zen now. We have to eat on the floor now; somehow I don't think sanitation knows about this".
Logan laughed and smiled so bright that his muscles began to swell. I guess it was the sort of effect Dana had on him. "Eating sushi never sounded so appetizing", he rolled his eyes jokingly.
"Tell me about it", Dana grinned back, "Well I gotta go Reese, see you later". Dana hiked her backpack up and walked away.
Logan stood admiring her for a couple minutes. (And by admiring I mean a more sophisticated way of checking out her ass.) Which, by the way Logan found over so perfect.
He was in love.
And after the events that happened the year before, he knew that he and Dana never had another chance together, and he was fine with it. He was fine with knowing that Dana and him would never be more than friends, and he was fine that he'd probably spend his life knowing what could've been. Because once you have your dad basically disown you and everyone consider you as a leper, you start to realize the more important things in life.
"Logan!" Michael stood in front of Logan as Logan stood in the doorway to the dorm room. Michael was undressed completely and the door was swung right open, he was a spectacle for all to see, "CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR!" He watched as Zoey and Dustin passed by, laughter could be heard miles away.
"Sorry", Logan shut the door and slumped into his bunk.
Michael quickly put his boxers on and turned to his friend, "Where's your head today?"
"Nowhere, nothing", Logan sighed, "I was just thinking".
"About what?"
'About Dana', his conscious sang. "ABOUT HOW LAME IT IS I HAVE TO GO THERAPY THIS HOUR!" Logan slammed his fists on the wall and turned to Michael, "I don't need any damn therapy. I'm not suicidal".
"Maybe not, but you do need anger management", Michael climbed into a pair of jeans and turned to Logan, "You know that right?"
Logan shrugged and began to pick the paint off the wall something that he did often now that his dad had put him on medication. It was like he couldn't control himself anymore, like he didn't have the responsibility. So his father relied on drugs to suit him – to take care of him.
God, Logan didn't even have a "sickness".
He was just a kid looking for an easy way out. He wasn't mental, he wasn't psycho. (But all of this 'special' treatment would sure enough drive him to insanity.) HE DIDN'T NEED HELP.
Well, maybe he did.
But he needed THAT help way before anything else.
Michael put a shirt over his head and turned to Logan, "Five more minutes".
"Thanks mom", Logan rolled his eyes and got up from his bunk.
"I'm just looking out for you – Dr. Hansen will have your ass if you show up late".
"I know", Logan walked away, and just before he walked out the door he muffled the words, "Thanks".
Dr. Hansen was a young woman that PCA had hired to take care of the students 'mental needs'. Her office was in the infirmary and Logan hated that. He hated being in the same capacity with people who were – well diseased.
"Good afternoon Logan", Dr. Hansen smiled – her voice was smooth and hypnotic, "How are you feeling?"
"Fine".
"Did you have a good day?"
"It was fine".
"How's Dana – how is she?"
"She's fine".
"That's nice", Dr. Hansen scribbled something on he notepad and then her glazed blue eyes went up and met with Logan's, "So did you call your parents today? I'm sure you'd love to speak with them".
"I don't call my parents. My dad says that's what wimps do when they miss their family", Logan turned away from Dr. Hansen.
"But that's not true Logan – you're not a wimp if you miss your family".
"Whatever", Logan lit a cigarette.
Dr. Hansen put her hand up, "No – no Logan we don't smoke in here. It's the infirmary".
Logan took his cigarette out and put it on the floor, stomping it with his large skater shoes.
"Thank you", Dr. Hansen folded her hands together and then she looked at Logan, "Logan. Did it hurt?"
"Did what hurt?"
"When you ran into the ocean, did it hurt? What did it feel like?" Dr. Hansen bit her lip, "You don't have to answer if you're not comfortable".
"It felt like it was eating me, like it was digesting me whole you can tell me if it sounds like it would hurt or not", Logan began to fumble with his lighter.
"I'm sorry".
"I did it. I wanted to go in that water. I knew it would hurt, I was prepared".
"No one is prepared for death Logan", Dr. Hansen shook her head, "No one".
"I was".
"I don't think you were Logan", Dr. Hansen swallowed, "Because if you were, you'd be charging right into that ocean again".
Logan was silent.
"I don't think you're crazy for what you did Logan", Dr Hansen sighed, "I don't like how your father puts you down all the time and I think you had reason for what you did, and I believe the reason you did it was to get out. After you and Dana broke up and after your grandmother died you felt like you had nothing to live for. Am I correct?"
Logan looked away and a salty liquid tear began to drop from his eyelid.
"Life's unfair Logan", Dr. Hansen looked away, "And it's not right, and people are mean and it's not right. But I think we can find an alternative way to handle this".
"I JUST HATE HIM SO MUCH!" Logan screamed, and tears began to cascade down his cheeks, "I DON'T WANT HIM TO BE MY FATHER! I'LL TRADE ANYTHING FOR HIM, I'D GIVE MY LIFE!" Logan looked up to the ceiling and blinked back a few tears, "He doesn't like me Dr. Hansen. He never did".
"I don't think that's true".
"WELL IT IS!" Logan screamed and turned to look away from Dr. Hansen, "She was the only one who liked me".
"Your grandmother?" Dr. Hansen asked.
"Yeah".
"What about your mom?"
Logan shrugged, "She was there, but she's afraid of my dad. She's afraid she's gonna loose everything she has right now. So she never says anything".
"Logan…"
Logan sighed and looked out the window people were walking around, talking to friends – he wanted to be there – he needed to. To at least feel like he was normal and go to class – instead of having a therapy hour. He didn't need this – he didn't need this whole 'You're hurting, I understand' vibe from anybody. HE WAS FINE. He wasn't suicidal and he wasn't psycho. HE WAS OKAY. HE WAS FINE. END OF DISCUSSION.
"I need to go and get a glass of water", Logan didn't wait for a reply and walked out of the room – he walked out of his therapy session in it's entirety. Dr. Granola-eating-koo-koo-nut could find a new lab rat. Because on that very day Logan Reese had decided to skip out of therapy. Forever.
She was pregnant.
She knew this because she was a genius – and because she hadn't had her period in exactly two months. What she didn't know – however, was what she was going to do – or who she was going to tell. Quinn Pensky sat in her journalism classroom holding her pen up to her lip thinking about what to write for her article in the school paper. As we gather here in January – a lot of things have happened in a year. Quinn put her pen down and gazed in a distance – to Mark in particular. He was sitting there writing furiously. Quinn smiled to herself. Mark had this thing about him – a certain something that made Quinn's stomach flourish every time she looked at him. (And it wasn't from the pregnancy.) We all have grown as people – emotionally, physically. We're not the same people who gathered on this campus in late August. As we hate to admit it, we're not.
Quinn slowly raised her hand in the air, "Excuse me, Mr. Karr? Can I have the restroom pass, please?" Her stomach was churning faster now – and it wasn't her excitement to be around Mark.
Mr. Karr nodded, "Take the pass".
Quinn slowly slid out of her desk and took the hall pass. As she walked into the hallway she began to run to the bathroom – covering her mouth as she ran. When she finally reached the bathroom she kicked the door open and began to throw up. Tears were flowing from her eyes as she did so. Liquid, salty tears tarnished her reddened face. 'Why did I do it?' Quinn wondered to herself, 'WHY DID I DO SOMETHING SO STUPID?' She began to cry, her tears dripping into the toilet. Dylan wasn't even worth it – he wasn't worth this misery. He wasn't worth this pain that was eating her up inside.
"Quinn?" Dylan was in the bathroom now; he was standing in the doorway of the stall, "Are you okay?"
Quinn flushed the toilet and turned around, "You're in the girl's bathroom perv".
"I saw you run in here, the door was wide open. Are you okay?" Dylan seemed concerned – but Quinn wasn't going to suck herself in – not this time. Dylan sat on the floor and squared his eyes with hers, "You're not – pregnant – are you?"
"Pregnant?" Quinn laughed and stood up, "I ate something bad okay? And I don't appreciate you following me into the bathroom. It's sick".
Quinn walked past him and began to wash her face and hands in the sink. Dylan slowly slipped out of the bathroom and traced Quinn's reflection with his deep blue-green eyes. Quinn ignored it as she covered her lips with chap stick and slid mint bubblegum into her mouth. Quinn sighed, readjusted her glasses and rinsed her mouth out with the tap water. If there was anytime to keep a secret, it was now.
---
"Quinn, are you okay? You've been acting really weird", Mark added, "Not that that's a bad thing… I'm just – I'm just worried". Mark sat with Quinn in the Girls Dorm lounge doing homework with her, "You were in the bathroom for a long time during journalism".
"I know", Quinn turned her head so she could face Mark, "I did something bad Mark – did something really, really stupid", tears began to flow from her eyes. Why was she telling Mark this? Why was she being so stupid? Quinn pushed her subconscious aside; "Last year when Dylan and I were together…" her eyes were like floodgates pushing all of the tears through. Mark held onto her hand and peered into Quinn's eyes. She continued, "I love you Mark, I really want you to know that. You make me so happy – and what happened between Dylan and I was an accident and…"
"Wait", Mark tightened his grip on Quinn, "What happened between you and Dylan?"
Quinn looked down at Mark's red converse, the ones she had specially painted for him back in the eighth grade with this new invention she made. He wore those shoes almost everyday. He loved those shoes so much – he loved her so much. Quinn covered her hand over her eyes, "I can't look at you when I say this", she shook her head, "I can't".
"Just tell me", Mark coaxed, "Please Clint". A smile formed out of the corners of his mouth and he began laughing.
Quinn took her hand off her eyes and began to laugh with Mark, the two of them falling on the floor and ending in each others arms. "Mark", Quinn whispered, "This is really hard". She got out of Mark's arms and sat away from him, turning around, "I can't look at you when I say this".
"Quinn…"
"Mark", Quinn was blunt, "I'm pregnant".
"Stop joking Quinn and tell me what's really going on", Mark edged closer to her.
"No", Quinn moved further away, "It's not a joke. Mark. Dylan and I had sex last year", she paused, "And I hated it. I wish I never would've done it! I wish that I could go back in time and never see him. Mark. I don't know what to do. Mark…" Quinn turned around.
Only when she did, Mark was no longer in the PCA girls' dorm lounge.