A/N: And now, a quick song in honor of my peg family:

We're the perfect loving family so adoring, and I love them every day of every week. So my Aunt is married to Anakin, my Grammy's from Gypsy, and my mother, though classy, helps me get… a poofy dress from Gypsy. :P La la la la la la la la- la la la la, la la, la la, la la laaaaaa.

Thanks to Katlyn (mah tweetheart) for helping me, and Mother-Peg (populardarling) for beta-ing/listening to me aaaangst. Happy hands to Auntie (TheGirlDefyingGravity) and Grammy Peg (Tiggy the Hopeless Romantic) because they helped me after I cursed off eleven year olds in public and was upset over a comment.

I've worked really, really hard on this for a few weeks; a review would be nice. (:

Disclaimer: Aw, it's okay; I don't own next to normal either.

The brick exterior of the school was damp with rain and rough with age. It didn't matter, though, as Natalie slumped with the right side of her face against the cool wall. As she sunk lower onto the ground, her cheek was met with a coarse embrace. Her tears blended in with the rain misting her face.

"Nat, if we stay out here any longer we're both going to get pneumonia or something," Henry sighed as he twirled his car keys around his finger. He stopped leaning against the wall and reached out to help her up. "C'mon, I'll take you home."

"I don't want to go home," Natalie gritted her teeth and turned to the wall. She tightly clenched her fists, her fingernails leaving imprints in the soft flesh of her palm. Home? There was no way in hell she was going there. She wasn't going to go home, only to be asked how her recital went. How could she explain how her lifetime's worth of dedication just wasn't enough?

"You can't just stay in that spot all night; you know you're going to have to go somewhere," Henry reminded her. Natalie scowled, knowing full well she'd have to go somewhere. Of course she knew she'd have to leave- she just didn't want to at this moment. When she would want to leave, she didn't want to go home; anywhere but that damned place would be nice. "Nat?" He snapped his fingers, startling Natalie. "Did you hear me?"

"I didn't go deaf, Henry," Natalie retorted, bringing her knees to her chest and putting her head down in defeat. "I really fucked that one up, didn't I?" her voice cracked.

"…I'm sure you can get a second chance, Nat. I mean- you're only a junior and don't colleges do all those audition things next year?" Natalie knew he was lying. She knew he knew that she blew her one chance. It was the only chance she had to escape, and she just couldn't measure up.

"You and I both know that's bullshit," she whispered, lifting her head up so she could look him in the eye. Natalie could see Henry practically flinch at the sight of her; she knew he had never seen a more pathetic sight in his life. Biting her lip to choke a sob, she buried her face in her knees. He kneeled beside her and put his hand on her shoulder, only to feel her sharply recoil. "Please, just…don't."

"Nat, everyone in the auditorium's going to come out soon. Do you really want them seeing you like this?" Natalie considered this for a minute before taking his outstretched hand and pulling herself off of the wet pavement. She followed him to his car and watched him throw CDs, coins, and random papers into the backseat so she could sit there. After he gestured for her to get in, she carefully maneuvered into the car. He slid into the drivers' seat, and started off down the road.

Natalie closed her eyes as she rested her head against the window, ignoring how it rattled whenever the old car went over a pothole. She wasn't trying to sleep; she was just trying to tune everything out. The pattern of turns seemed familiar to Natalie, but she knew Henry wouldn't take her to the place she least wanted to go. After driving in silence, Natalie opened her eyes to see where Henry had taken her. Her face fell as she recognized the rusting mailbox and front door with peeling white paint.

"You never said you were taking me here," Natalie glared at him.

"Nat, look; you're going to have to go home sometime. I'm tired, and I'm pretty sure your parents would kill me if you were home any later," said Henry.

"I really don't think they'd notice if I wasn't home for another ten minutes, an hour, tomorrow morning, y'know?"

"You know that's not true."

"Really? I mean, they sure seemed to give a damn about where I was tonight. 'Don't worry, sweetie; your mother and I will both be here-, I promise' my ass."

"I'm sure they tried to be there, and something came up."

"Am I really supposed to believe that?"

"I don't think they wouldn't show up unless they had-."

"That's bullshit," Natalie spat, getting out of the car and storming to the front door. She went to open the door only to find it locked; her keys were inside the house.

"God dammit!" she kicked the front door and heard Henry's car leave her driveway. She repeatedly smacked the white door with the heel of her hand, asking if someone inside the house could bother to let her inside. When she didn't hear a response, she bent down to retrieve the spare key under the welcome mat.

"Hello?" Natalie called out, after fumbling with that key for what seemed like a lifetime. She walked toward the light in the kitchen, and found her father in his chair at the dinner table. Both the bottle and glass on the table beside him were drained of whiskey. "Oh my God."

"Natalie?" replied Dan. He had his elbow rested on the table, propping his head up with his hand. His words sounded labored.

"What the hell were you doing?" she demanded, pointing to what was on the table.

"You were supposed to be home an hour ago."

"You were supposed to be at my recital, too, and that didn't exactly happen, did it?" Natalie crossed her arms and waited for a response.

"Nat, I can explain…"

"Where were you?" Natalie felt the tears come back, watching her father talk to the floor rather than to her face.

"Your mother's therapy session had to be pushed back and-"

"Oh, of course."

"You know she can't help it, Natalie."

"So now it's my fault you weren't there?"

"You don't understand-"

"So I've been told."

"Nat, I'm sorry-"

"No you're not. Are you going to have the nerve to tell me you're not coming to my next recital, or are you just going to lie again?"

"Natalie, this was a one-time thing. We'll come next time."

"You don't get it. There probably won't be a next time!"

"What do you mean? Of course there'll-"

"You don't understand!"

Natalie stormed up the stairs, biting her lip to stop herself from breaking out into loud sobs. Once she reached the ledge at the top of the staircase, she paused and looked down. Maybe her father would be following her to apologize again. She wouldn't necessarily believe the apology, but she would have liked him to realize how much he hurt her. Her face fell as she saw her father remain at the table, blankly staring at where she was standing before. After one last glance, she ran into her parents' room to see her mother in a deep sleep.

She quietly navigated her way into the bathroom, and flung open the medicine cabinet with her shaking hands. Tucked in the back of the cabinet, behind Q-tips and cotton balls, was a pill bottle that survived the septic tank purge. Natalie hastily moved the contents on the shelf to the side and retrieved the orange canister. Her hands were shaking so much, she was almost unable to get past the child-proof lock on the cap. At last, the cap came off and she dumped some tiny purple pills into her hand. She wiped the new tears off her cheeks with her shirt and rearranged the shelf to make it look like she hadn't taken anything.

Filling a paper cup with water, Natalie's breathing became heavier. She hated this feeling, and questioned whether the beads in her hand would be the answer to her problem. It worked before…but she never felt this hopeless, worthless, and so ready to surrender. Would it still work now? At this point, she felt she had absolutely nothing left to lose. Natalie put the pills on her tongue, and spat them back into her hand from the bitterness. They had to go down fast; a clean sweep. With the cup of water in one hand, she practically shoved the pills down her throat and washed them down with water. After wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she retreated back to her room.

The first thing she noticed in her room, her safe haven, was the piano music. It was lying on the ground, out of her backpack. That fucking sonata was lying right in front of her. That fucking sonata she couldn't get down perfectly, and destroyed her future. Without thinking, she took the paper and ripped it straight down the middle. The halves of paper weren't enough, so she tore them again, and again until the notes became unidentifiable. Natalie scattered them about the floor, as if she were a flower girl laying down a path of petals for the wedding party to travel down. She looked up to see certificates and trophies on her shelf, and they too were reminding her of who she was before: a success, a girl with potential. They reminded her of who she was now: a failure, a girl who blew it. With a swipe of her arm, everything came down in a loud clash. Fuming, she didn't notice her father opening her door.

"Natalie, what the hell are you doing? Your mother is sleeping in her room, and you can't wake her up," said Dan.

"Oh, of course you notice me when it involves her!" shouted Natalie. She was shushed by her father as she stared him down.

"Natalie, what has gotten into you?" Dan scolded in a fierce whisper.

"Just get out of here!" Natalie replied, taking a pillow off her bed and throwing it at her father. "Leave me the fuck alone!" She felt those damn tears come back, and didn't even care about damning them back anymore.

"Is this about the recital? Honey, there's nothing I can do about it now. I already told you your mother and I are sorry. There'll be other-"

"This isn't about the God damn recital! You should know better, Dad," she sobbed.

"You have to quiet down. Your mother's been having sleep problems, and this has been the first time in-" Dan ordered before being cut off.

"Oh, Dad, we all have problems," she spat.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you." With those final words, Dan left. Once Natalie slammed the door, she leaned against it and slid into a crouch. She took a fallen pillow to her chest and carelessly wailed until she was too exhausted. Her father's words echoed in her ears, each word a stabbing blow.

I don't know what I'm going to do with you…

It was funny; she didn't know either.