author's note: hey guys! thanks for all the kind reviews you sent my way. because of said reviews, you guys inspired me to update sooner than i thought possible, haha. :)) i should warn you though: i'm not going to be able to update in the next two to three weeks as we have trimestral exams in school. (DEATH.) don't worry, after that, i'll be able to update the rest more often. i have it all outlined; i just have to get around to actually writing it. hopefully you enjoy this chapter as well! as i said in the previous chapter. FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED. :D

in terms of this chapter, just know that i have NOTHING against cheerleaders and football players, nerds and dorks or even artistic people, musicians and groupies. it's an evil evil stereotype at times, i know. i'm just trying to depict the... oftentimes cruelties in high school life. :)) i know how cliques can be. i myself am a nerd/dork at times. :D not necessarily a bad thing. this scene is based on high school nowadays. it couldn't have been too different from chuck's high school days at any rate.

(i wish i could be a cheerleader for a day though. (maybe in some alternate universe. someday. LOL.)

disclaimer: don't own chuck or anything related to it. :((

The One Time He Didn't

Dungeons and Dragons

"Ohmigod. Have you heard their latest album? So hot."

"Dude, did you catch the football game last night? Dude, Nicholson was so friggin awesome!"

"Hey Chuck!"

Chuck reluctantly sat down next to his sister at the 'cool' table. It wasn't that he was considered to be cool on his own merit; his sister was cool and so by the unwritten laws of society, he was considered 'temporarily cool' by means of association.

"You going to training later, right man?"

"Yeah. We're totally gonna kick Riverdale's ass this coming weekend!"

Why were all these people so obsessed with football?

Cheerleaders he could definitely appreciate, if only for their... physique.

But football players?

Chuck stared at his food, poking his fork at this week's 'mystery meat'. It looked like a blend of inedible things all mashed together. He let his mind wander, staring at the different tables in the cafeteria.

There was the so called 'nerd' table. Its members were all huddled together, their glasses often colliding with each other's as they riffled through their algebra books and compared their answers to the last quiz Ms. Jefferson had given them.

Next to them were the 'dorks', although Chuck never really saw that big of a difference. The only thing that differentiated them was that while the 'nerds' were all busily discussing math problems, the 'dorks' had their noses buried in their books.

There was the artistic table on the far right, Almost all of them wore shirts splattered with paint and every single one of their fingers were darkened with pencil smudges. Sketchbooks were passed around and Olie, one of the more 'inexperienced' members sketching-wise, stared at Ashlee's drawings with an avid interest.

The musicians were on the far left, not even bothering to speak. Strumming their guitars was more than enough to do that for them.

Right next to their table were their groupies, although they always insisted they weren't. (Just 'passionate fans', when asked by the school newspaper)

Of course, there was the subgroup of the 'cool' table: the giggly girls. It was a smart move on the jocks' part: if their dating pool of cheerleaders miraculously ran out, there was always another bunch of mindless girls to move on to.

Then the rest of the student population deemed 'ordinary' and 'untalented' were dispersed in between those tables.

Chuck went back to poking his mystery meat, wondering where he would fit in. He was always like this during lunch. It wasn't as if the conversation would ever turn to him right?

"Hey Chuckie."

Chuck was jolted out of his reverie and as he looked up, he noticed everyone's eyes on him. (What a horrible nickname Chuckie was, he realized a few seconds after. Made him sound like a cow.)

Apparently, the conversation had turned to Morgan.

"So... are you actually like really friends with that loser?" Georgina the cheerleading captain said, voice dripping with derision.

Chuck would bet all the money he had that Georgina didn't even know what derision meant.

"Or are you just hanging out with him cause you feel bad for him and wanna be like, a nice guy?" That was Marie, probably the only girl at the table (aside from his sister) who he actually had a chance of impressing.

Or maybe he just thought this because she had referred to him as a 'nice guy'.

"Um..."

His voice sounded foreign even to his own ears, like he hadn't used it in a long while.

His instinct told him to reply with the latter. After all, it would be social suicide to say otherwise. Even though he wasn't going to physically die, he'd rather avoid dying in any sort of way, metaphorically or whatnot.

He opened his mouth again to reply, to say that the guy was just some loser he felt sorry for.

But nothing came out.

It was like some strange nightmare.

(Like the one where Princess Leia had asked him if he wanted to marry her and as he was about to say yes, he had found that he had lost his voice. Only this time it was real. But that dream was besides the point.)

It felt like the world had turned all gooey, like time was slowing down. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, bewildered by his reaction. Nothing was coming out of his mouth, only strange choking sounds.

The next day, he was no longer invited to the 'cool' table.

He had expected that.

Chuck walked out of the cafeteria and threw his lunch into the trash can, not even noticing Elie watching him sadly.

Suddenly, Chuck heard a voice yelling out for him.

"Hey Chuck! Is that you? I haven't seen you since summer!"

Chuck turned around: it was the reason he had been 'expelled' from the 'cool' table.

Morgan.

Instead of taking it against Morgan and distancing himself from this so-called 'loser', Chuck smiled.

"Hey! Yeah, I've... been really preoccupied lately."

"That's alright. I totally understand the allure of cheerleaders. Football players, not so much."

Chuck grinned. "Yeah, whatever you say."

Morgan, his head gear-wearing, inhaler-dependent friend, smiled right back at him.

Or as much as his head gear allowed him to.

"So... you wanna eat lunch with me today?"

Chuck nodded. "Sure. Where do you eat anyway? I never see you in the cafeteria."

"Oh, I hate eating there! I just run in, get the food, and get out. I just... never felt like I belonged anywhere." Morgan stopped for a moment, as though recalling a memory from years past.

"There was this time the groupies let me eat with them though!"

Chuck shook his head. If this was what he was in for the coming school year, then so be it.

-

At the age of 15, Chuck enters high school not knowing where he belongs.

For the next four years of high school, he realizes all you really need is one good friend.

(Specifically one who knows his Dungeons and Dragons.)

TADA! told ya it was going to be happier. :)) feedback is much appreciated guys! (thanks for all the previous reviews.) like i said, i'll probably be updating after two to three weeks due to exams. (wish me luck!) trivia: for the Chuckie sounds like cow thing, there's actually a chocolate milk whose mascot is a cow named Chuckie. :))

thanks again!