Author's Note: Alright, second chapter up and running! This one is in Chase's point of view and is thankfully longer than the last chapter. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Zoey 101 and all related characters are not my own.

What To Do: Chase
Thursday, November 9th, 2006 (12:17 pm)

Whoever decided that ketchup and mustard compliment each other on a hot-dog was completely and ultimately wrong. And probably stupid. I mean sure, the colours mix to make a nice orange, but the appeal stops there. One bite and I practically gag; the taste is disgusting.

I know it's weird, being 15 and a half and having never tried a mustard and ketchup dog, but the idea has always been too weird for me. I have this thing about strange foods; I don't eat them. Ketchup and mustard definitely equals strange. Not even Zoey would be able to place another bite of it in my mouth.

Okay, so maybe Zoey could, but that's about it. Even my best friend couldn't talk me into it. Well, my best friend from grade eight, that is; I know Michael would find a way to force-feed me. I'm not sure if Dana still considers me as close a friend as I do her. We talk and stuff, but it's not as frequent.

More than a year later, and I still thinks it's stupid; my best friend running off to Paris.

And in carrying out that unthinkable deed, she left:

a) Logan "heartbroken" and moping around,
b) Me to face Zoey alone and
c) Nicole to whine for about a month.

Not to mention one half of the amazing BFFL power-duo.

And, ladies and gentlemen, here to top it all off: Lola Martinez. The rather bonkers, not to mention drama queen-esque, spunky clone of Nicole. Who also happens to be enamoured with me.

Lola, that is. Not Nicole.

It's a great life. My friends are all bizarre, and the only sane one happens to be the girl of my dreams, who doesn't seem to know how I feel about her. And I can't seem to tell her. It's times like these that I really, really need Dana. And not just via e-mail and phone calls.

Sure, I can turn to my other super best friend Michael in situations like these, but his advice is always the same: "Just tell her man!"

As a matter of fact, that's what he's saying to me right now.

"Look, Mike; if it was that simple, I would have done it a long time ago. And I mean a really long time ago," I answer, for what could likely be the 300th time. This week. I'm starting to feel like one of those parrots. The kind that sits in a corner and repeats the same phrase over and over, but nobody really pays attention. I hate parrots; they bite.

"It is that simple, moron."

Ah, Logan. Being his regular bag of sunshine and candy corn, I see. I look over at him as he pushes another fry into his mouth, rolling his eyes at me. I raise an eyebrow in what I hope is a dignified manner.

"Ah, but is it?" I ask him, smiling to myself.

AHA. So who's the moron now?

"Uh, yeah, it is."

Touché.

I scan the rest of the table, mentally checking for the fourth time that Zoey isn't anywhere in sight; it's sure taking her a long time to find that paper she went off looking for. Spotting Quinn, I decide to ask her the same question:

"Quinn, what should I do about Zoey?"

"Well, it just so happens that I've invented a new pill that, when taken, boosts the hormone Oxytocin, increasing your desire to fall in love." She explains happily, rambling on for awhile about all the ingredients and how exactly she concocted this, uh, thing.

"Uh, Quinn?" I interrupt, "I'm gonna assume there are side effects."

She scoffs. "Of course."

I stare blankly at her; she says nothing.

"So… what are they?"

"Severe rashes on your neck and lower back. Also, there may be excessive headaches, drooling and profuse sweating," she pauses, probably registering the look on my face. "Oh, but there's only a twenty percent chance of any of that happening."

I nod.

"Thanks, I'll consider it."

NEXT.

Trying to ignore Quinn's inquiring stare, I turn to our resident chatterbox, desperately hoping I'm not making a huge mistake.

"So, Nicole. What do you think I should do?"

"About what? …is it Zoey? I'll bet it's Zoey. Ohmigosh it's totally Zoey! You think Zoey's cute, don't you? I love cute people. Boys are pretty cute. Well, besides you guys 'cause I mean, you guys are my friends! And that would just be awkward. Don't you think that would be awkward? I think that would be totally awkward. But you and Zoey wouldn't be awkward. You would be…"

I've made a huge mistake.

I glance over at my last chance, who is sitting alongside Nicole and nodding her head to every good point that Nicole is making. There are apparently quite a few. It's almost like watching a bobble head.

Bobble heads freak me out.

"…do you want me to tell her? 'Cause I could tell her if…"

"NO, Nicole!" I yell at the peppy, brown-haired girl. Surprisingly, this shuts her up. "Th-that won't be necessary, thanks."

I flash a smile, embarrassed by my sudden outburst. She looks bewildered.

And off she goes again.

Logan stands to leave and I jump up to follow, making a bid for freedom. He doesn't question my immediate accompaniment but instead casts me a knowing look. As we leave the patio; Logan in the lead, myself trailing after, I take one last look behind me to see Michael still seated at the table, a scholarly look on his face.

I can't believe it.

He's been sucked in.

Well, no hope for him now. Might as well be off to… wherever it is that I'm going. I'll make a note to ask Logan about that soon.

"Hey Logan, hey Chase."

"Hey Zoey."

My head snaps back around, receiving numerous complaints from my vertebrae, when I hear that voice. And that name. And that "Hey Chase".

"Oh, uh, h-hi Zoe," I grin at her as we stride by her.

"Hi again," she says playfully, smiling at me and giving a wave.

Ah, she's smiling at me… and now she's looking at me funny.

"If you're heading to the table, see if you can rescue Michael," I splutter, snapping out of my day-dream involving Zoey and a pirate ship.

"Why, what's wrong with him?"

"Nicole," I say, or rather shout, seeing as how we're a good ten feet apart by now.

"Okay, gotcha," she replies with a wink before whisking off to save Michael's soul.

Godspeed Zoey, Godspeed.

I walk briskly to catch up to Logan, not wanting to be left on my own. Why? I can't really say.

"Dude, she obviously likes you. Do something already; make your move!" Logan exclaims as we dump our trays at the window. He talks about it as if it were the easiest thing in the entire world.

Pfft. I'd like to see him try.

"Pfft. I'd like to see you try," I retort.

"I already have. And it worked."

"Oh yeah, with who?"

"Liza. You know, from fifth-period Algebra? She was totally trying to land me, so I figured hey, why not take the bait? And I took it man; hook, line and sinker," he winks suggestively at me, somehow managing to flash a smile at the nearest beauty at the same time.

I sigh with exasperation. Why do I always feel exasperated when I'm around Logan?

"See, this is why I prefer talking to Dana. She at least talks about girls as if they were people, not objects or fishing rods."

Logan hesitates a moment before answering. By now we're approaching the movie theater. For a guy who saunters half the time, he sure can walk fast. "Yeah, well, she's not here anymore, is she, brainiac? So you're gonna have to settle for me. Or Lola," he adds this last name in a sing-song voice.

He should just die in a badger hole.

Right now.

I could arrange it - I have some very close badger friends who would gladly dig a hole for me.

But no matter; I'd gotten him good. I said the D word, and he faltered. His reaction has actually improved a lot since last year. At the beginning of freshman year, if somebody mentioned Dana he'd get all moody and be sullen for about ten minutes. He's kinda got this thing with ten; almost everything he does is measured in the number.

Sometimes I like to mention Dana's name in a conversation ten times, just to watch him freak out.

That's about when I realize that I'm a horrible person.

And I'm even more horrible for not caring.

"I miss Dana, don't you Logan? Dana was so much fun, especially when you guys used to constantly argue. That was always entertaining…" My last word fades as I notice the look on Logan's face.

Aw damn, I took it too far. Now I feel really, really bad.

Scratch that not caring part; I'm not a bad, dangerous, sexy guy, I only wish I was. My conscience is too big for all that pressure. I put an arm around his shoulders and squeeze.

"It's okay, man. I know she misses you too."

Aw thanks, Chase; you're a really great friend.

Or maybe even: you know what, you're right. Want some genuine help with Zoey?

"Yeah, whatever," he says, flicking his hair back with expertise. "It's not like I care or anything."

Oh. Okay then.

And with that he shrugs my arm off his shoulders and heads off for, presumably, the basketball court. It's where he always goes when he's upset, confused, or just plain pissed off.

Of course, this leaves me behind, all by myself.

Feeling more than slightly rejected, I head back to our dorm. Hopefully Michael will be along soon, compliments of Zoey.

Well, I guess to pass the time there's only one thing I can do.

Read.

I can't believe it's come to this.


Author's Note: So how was this one? I hope I kept Chase in character enough. That reminds me; if you don't think I'm keeping a certain person in character, please, feel free to tell me! It bothers me when somebody gives; let's say Nicole, a mean and nasty personality, and I certainly don't want to be a hypocrite. All other constructive criticism is helpful as well. Oh, and if anybody knows what the boys dorm hall is called, could you please tell me? Thanks! Next chapter: Dana.