Back with another update. :D Seriously, don't you just love updates?

Okay, well, this one maybe's not as great as the last one, but it's pretty important. And I'm pretty happy with how this cam out. Anyway, I'm hoping you guys enjoy, and I want to let you know, that I'm making all this up as I go along, and I still don't have much an idea where I'm going with this, for real. But anyways, lets get on with the story..

BUT FIRST. A NOTE. (-shot-) The little 'preview', which is what you'll read first, happens around Gwen's POV near the bottom, and will be more associated into the next chapter than this one. And sorry for a few repeated grammar here in there. Some words are just too good to be used just twice. (Besides 'the' and all that...)

AND NOW THE DISCLAIMER: I don't own TDI. I'd like to, but who's gonna listen to me here?

Okay, now you guys can start reading. (:

Thanks for not reminding me to shut up.

At exactly 7:00pm, two million and fourteen viewers turned their televisions on to Channel 17.

One million and seven-hundred TV screens presented the movie star-face of Maclean himself, presenting himself at what seemed to be his studio, which seemed to be located near a bunch of high-end gym equipment. He sits in front of twenty-two smaller screens, each one with a different image, and he sips a porcelain cup of black tea. There's a larger man beside him, operating the system.

Then he begins. "My name is Chris Maclean, and if you don't know, I am the host of this show, 'Where Are The Losers Now?', which, if you don't know that either, is a follow up to the exceedingly popular season one of 'Total, Drama, Island'."

An overweight yet awfully familiar teenager waddles into sight, obviously worn out, then passes out. The viewers than notice he is naked, and gasp.

Maclean is slightly bothered. "Uh, yeah, okay, that's a teensy bit disturbing to see, but I guess we can leave him there for the ratings," then he continues, "in this exceptionally popular program, if you don't know, again," he paused to frown, "we follow the contestants who actually thought that once they left Camp Wawanakwa about a year ago, we would actually leave them alone."

He pauses again for the dramatic effect. "But NO. We decided to stick around their lives for a little a bit, and to also, share our glory with you lucky viewers. Turns out, 'drama' never rubbed off them, and well if they did," Maclean grinned. "We made sure they didn't."

Chef grunted.

"This week, we decided to up the drama-meter a wee bit, and cross your fingers, let's hope our former campers have a scratching-good time with that-"

Being one of the two million and fourteen viewers, Harold's jaw dropped. As he felt a slight itch on his left shoulder.

Cody (Sunday, 2am, somewhere in the skies of the central coast)

"Are you gonna eat that?" Geoff slowly turned to me and shrugged, passing his tray of towards me.

I grinned, which I found out later on, made me totally oblivious to Geoff. "You know, airplane grub isn't that bad."

He sighed, and he continued staring out the window, with this let down look in his eye. I decided he wasn't that hungry.

I tore off a piece of cornbread and chewed loud, while he sighed again. "Really."

Right then we were on our flight back to Edmonton, Nova Scotia. After spending a few days chilling in B.C. and paying our old friend a surprise visit, and begging for a place to stay since we'd spent every penny on those tickets. Just because he and I both needed a break, and also so Geoff could see if he could rekindle what they had. I hadn't asked how it all went yet, but something else had been bothering me for awhile now…

"You know, you've been staring out the window for awhile now."

A beat.

I chuckled anxiously. "But if you'd like to keeping doing that, then, erm, go ahead."

He twitched. Was that a sign of relief?

"I mean, I'm not stopping you. Or anything."

A few minutes later, I twitched. Guess it's catching on. Heh.

About a half hour later, it came to me. (Well, for the second time, but it was only now that it came to me that this was the time to ask.) "Now I get it! You're missing Bridge already, aren't you?"

Geoff jerked forward and lightly banged his head on the glass.

I went on, glad that I was finally getting somewhere. "Honestly, I can't blame you. Ah, young love. You know-"

"That's not all of it." His expression was still glued to the window, but it was the first few words I'd heard from him in awhile, so I guessed it was a start.

"Naw, don't worry about it. You'll see her again, for sure-"

He turned slightly away from the window, and whispered, "You don't understand, man-"

"Geoff my man! You're underestimating me here! Trust me, I know. I've gonna through the exact same thing." I paused, and thought for a bit. "Sort of. Trust me-"

"Bridgette's lied to me…and I'm really hurt about it, okay?" He said it, so uneasy yet so convinced at the same time. I stared at him, staggered.

After awhile of thinking, I told him, all serious and all, "Then we're heading back. I didn't pay for these tickets for nothing-"

He shook his head. "Don't-"

A voice on the intercom blasted, announcing to fasten their seatbelts as they were heading for a quick pit stop.

Geoff sighed again, and stared back out the window. "It's not like we can do anything about it now."

Beth (Sunday, 10:21am)

I blinked. "Gee…it's so nice of you to stop by…"

Alexis and 'crew' appeared on my doorway step at exactly 10:22, no seconds left counting. Examing their nails. Doing their make-up.

"Although…maybe this isn't such an appropriate time." My hair stuck all over the place and I really needed to floss. "Do you think that maybe-"

She beat around my 'almost'-question. "If it isn't too much, we'd like to come inside." And she popped her gum.

I felt my teeth and cringed. "Umm…I guess."

They pushed their way in and scanned the living room (which, was the first room you would see when you enter the house) like potential home buyers. Literally. They even asked for the square footage and number of bathrooms. Weird.

"This'll have to do," Alexis said finally, glancing for a last time at the light fixtures on the ceiling.

I just stared. "For what?"

She smirked and turned to one of her posse' behind her. "Tell Beth, Rachel."

"There's going to be a party here Friday night," announced 'Rachel'. "With an exclusive performance by that adorable hunk-I mean," she corrected as Alexis shot her a look, "Alexis' boyfriend. But he wants it to be a private gathering, which is just like, impossible if it's held at the Claywood Mansion."

I felt my hair. Dry and Stringy. "But…why my place?"

"Because," snapped Alexis, "Trent himself suggested it."

"He…did?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, for some reason, we wanted the whole thing low-key. I would've said something against that otherwise, but he, like, nearly went on his knees…" she took a breath, "And he told me if he's going to screw up, he'd rather not in front of all those people. But it's so stupid, 'coz when he does hell would've freezen over.."

Alexis continued. "And BTW, there's going to be a few big-time, undercover, interested agents attending this event. We're allowing you to come, Beth, but please, you are not allowed to act like such a loser."

I pretended that didn't hurt, and nodded. "Yes, maam!"

She made a face. "Good. I have people coming over in half an hour to fix up the place. Just stay out, and don't freak out because I've already paid the bill."

Right then I remembered I still had to dress out of my pajamas, and that this wasn't such a great time, and that I wouldn't be near ready in half an hout. But I forgot all that, for awhile. "Got it!"

And one by one, in a straight reformed line, they headed out, Alexis last, to tell me, "And thanks. I would've had no idea that Trent likes seafood."

The door slammed, leaving me there at the very center of the family room, to take it all in.

Yeah, I really needed a shower.

Duncan (Sunday, 11:47am, inside a speeding vehicle)

"Stop the car!" My father stepped on the brakes suddenly, and before Courtney got the chance to finally catch her breath, we were moving all over again-this time, even faster.

She clung on to me, and panicked. Loud.

I decided not to ruin the moment by turning her off, but technically that meant I wasn't allowed to say a word.

Courtney seemed relieved after awhile, until she stared out the window and saw the police trailing behind us, and then she started freaking out some more. I clamped my hand over her mouth and smirked.

"Honestly, princess, this isn't that big a deal. Nothing to worry about, really."

Her response was a few highly-irritated gagging noises.

I continued, part of me trying to piss her off, but mostly I was trying to get her to calm down. "Look, we're gonna lead them off in the wrong direction, then take a slightly illegal u-turn back on the main road. Everything's fine."

She cringed at the word 'illegal'.

Then stepped hard on my foot and broke free.

Way to ruining the moment yourself, princess.

"That ain't the right way to lead on a nice young lady now, say, Dunny?" Spike chuckled as he turned to us in the backseat. He was the fourth person on fast prison-break, besides Courtney, my dad, and I.

"Well, you wouldn't know now, would you?"

He laughed. "I was quite the talker back in the day."

"You still quite are."

Spike took a quick glance at Courtney, grouchy as ever, sitting as farthest as she could from me in the backseat. "Back in the day, chatty men always got them girls."

I also glanced at Courtney as I replied. "Nowadays chatty men just piss them off."

She crossed her arms.

"You kids," my father also referred to Spike right there, "better shut up right now. The cops are right on our tail right now and I'm going to need a little concentration here." He said it more like a criminal than an officer himself. .

"Right." I peeked out behind us, then made a split decision. "You're got to make that quick left. They're thinking we're heading north, well screw that. Now we're going left."

He grinned. "That's my boy."

We made that turn.

Courtney spoke for the first time in awhile. "They went north."

"Good thing."

Our vehicle-the old Toyota, if you must know-slowed down at the alleyway.

Then suddenly Courtney opened her mouth to scream. But nothing came out. Suddenly Spike swore under his breath, and my father was at lost for words, and stopped the car in dismay.

A man in navy exited his four-door sedan and walked over, pointed his gun at my father's rolled-down (by coincidence) window, and smirked. "Busted."

He made several rounds around the car, taking extra looks at Courtney, which really ticked me off. But we weren't allowed to move.

After awhile he instructed all of us out of the car. By then I was reaching my boiling point.

And then you know what my father did next? He punched the guy right in the nose.

"We're out of here." And he backed out of the alley, then we headed back on main road.

Courtney started crying. "You told me not to worry."

"Because there was nothing to worry about."

She stared at me cold. "Yes, there was."

A few minutes later she spoke again, this time in a more-irritated sorta way, and whispered, "We're going to miss our play."

"Isn't this a whole lot more exciting than some play, princess?"

Courtney didn't answer. But I knew deep down-the ride, the thrill, the danger- she was enjoying every minute of it. You could just tell.

Gwen (Sunday, 7:04pm, Rymando residence)

I jerked the freezer door open and pulled out the tub of rocky road. Extra marshmallows too; and I dug in. Heaven, I thought, or at least close.

Two full-spoon bites, then I swallowed, trying to resist the brain-freeze. Trying to forget all about him, who, also happened to really like rocky road. I sighed, then shoved another good serving into my mouth, before finally grabbing a seat at the table, and giving up on the second thing. It made the fourth bite taste not so sweet.

But I can't help it. Eating like that, I mean. I eat when I'm nervous, I eat when I need it, I eat when I…

Ugh. I just thought of him again.

I could feel my shoulders tensing. Maybe ice cream wasn't going to work today.

Then I heard music.

He was playing that song…

I walked over to the window by the front porch. Front row seats.

Trent caught my glance. I turned back, and walked deeper back into the house.

My phone rang. It was a good excuse. "Hello?"

"Is this Gwen?" An unknown caller, the cellphone read, but the voice sounded exceedingly familiar. He confirmed it for himself. "Gwen, this is Harold. Listen-"

I was fidgeting with my hair when I nearly dropped the phone-"Harold?"

On the other end there was this deep sigh.

"How exactly do you have my number?"

Harold held his breath as if the next thing he was about to say was big. "It's all over the internet. You're probably going to get about five hundred calls from now on."

"But how can so many people want to talk to me?" I was almost disgusted.

I could feel him shrugging. "Your fans, I guess."

"I don't get a word you're saying…"

"Turn your TV on to channel 17. And like, call back." With that he just hung up.

My heart was racing especially fast for something I didn't understand quite yet. My fingers fumbled with the remote as I pressed 'on' almost cautiously, with that slight feeling something was going to jump right at me.

I froze. I was looking right at me, on that screen.

Me from a few days ago, at Alexis' party…the day everything-or at least all that mattered to me-fell apart. And it was being broadcasted. For everyone to see. I was too shocked to be mad.

I nearly passed out at commercial. Who…who would do such a thing?

Quickly, I picked up my phone. Four hundred fifty-six missed calls. How could I have missed that many calls? In seven minutes too…seven minutes when I had muted my cell. I remembered what Harold said: Your fans. These calls were from my fans.

Ridiculous.

I dialed Harold's number, and after a ring he picked up. "I can't believe it. I absolutely, cannot believe it!"

"Neither can I. Never knew Chris would stoop that low."

"Chris-?" Of course! Chris!

Harold dropped his voice. "And just for the reminder…be careful...it's going to be just like on the island…we're always being watched."

"Always…?" I trailed off as Trent walked into the room with his guitar, eyeing me suspiciously.

Suddenly something came over me. "Well, sugarcakes. I'll talk to you later, alright?" In my best flirtatious impression. I smirked, and hung up as soon as I heard a startled, 'what??'.

Trent stared at me in disbelief.

And for some sick reason, I enjoyed that. "Trent."

"Gwen." I ignored the fact his eyes looked absolutely gorgeous as he spoke to me. "Do you have any idea why I have about two hundred texts here calling me a heartless jerk?"

I shot him one last look as I turned away, and headed the other direction. "Haven't got the slightest of a clue."

And he watched me walk away, absolutely stunned.

My name is Chris Maclean, if you forgot, a pause, again. Tune in next week for a brand new episode of 'Where Are the Losers Now'! Twice the drama, twice the misery having to be experienced by our lovely ex-contestants, which of course, equals in twice the enjoyment! So remember- The screen blacked out, static shriveling from the antennae.

"Aww. Not again."

Hope you guys enjoyed!

Now, I'll be at a badminton camp during most of my 'writing hours' all this week, so don't expect an update until maybe Saturday. Thanks.

R&R please! And I want to know if anyone can guess the story behind this chapter's title. (: