I suppose I should have mentioned this last chapter: Credit for cover art goes to Leslie the Sorceress :)

I know I don't write a lot of details. As a result, events in the story will move relatively quickly. I'm sure this won't be a problem, but I'd love to hear from anyone who has any writing tips to share.

Anyway, on with the story :)

Sometimes it's hard to smile
You keep looking back, searching for somebody
Who once was in your life
Baby, let him go now, there'll be something better ahead

It takes love to make love
You can't hide behind your broken heart
It takes love to make love
Let the light of another lover shine on you

We all have tears to cry but there comes a day
To leave your tears behind you
And give your heart some place to start
And if you find your way there
There'll be someone waiting for you.

'It Takes Love'- Styx.

The day passed slowly, mostly with me staring at the clock through Maths Prevoc, Science, and English Comm. Even Visual Art was boring, with the teacher simply going through everything we had learned the term before. Ancient History was a breeze- once I knew that we were doing Ancient Egypt, I managed to sneak out when the teacher's back was turned. Oh, the privileges of sitting at the back of the room in the desk nearest the door! I spent the session in the old art-room, arranging my pencils for a still-life and generally moping.

Music was the last session of the day, and as I heard the bell, I considered skipping that, too. I was tired, and it didn't help that the classroom was on the other end of the school. But, figuring that if I didn't at least appear I would get in trouble, I dragged myself out of the art-room and started the walk to the music room.

Approaching the door, I heard the loud voice of Miss Basso and realized with a sinking feeling that I was late. Damn, that probably meant the only seats left were at the front. I eased the door open and peered in, and my eyes widened in surprise. No, the seats up front were taken. And so were all of them except for one at the back, which was strangely vacant. But that never happened except when the person in the next seat was-

Oh.

Ok.

I took a deep breath and tiptoed in, earning a glare from Miss Basso for being late, and gingerly sat down in the chair next to Quasimodo, who was sitting slumped with his face hidden. I took the opportunity while I was arranging my stuff to get another good look at him, and winced as I looked at his back. Damn he's crooked. But his arms are huge- he's probably really strong. What the hell were his parents on when he was conceived to make him look like that?

"Michigan Greene! So glad you could join us."

I spun my head to face the teacher, her loud voice having startled me from my thoughts. I had no idea how old Miss Basso was, but she couldn't have been any older than 25. Dark-skinned, petite and personally one of my favourite teachers, her stern voice didn't match her slight frame, but it helped her to keep order in class. Short she may have been, but I think everyone was scared of her. Rumour had it that she was seeing one of the Senior teachers, but I didn't believe it, since he was a lot older than her and already had a wife. But nothing's impossible, right?

"Name one characteristic of Folk music."

I opened my mouth, racking my brain for the answer, and said the first thing that came to mind. "Culture...?"

Miss Basso raised an eyebrow, decreasing my confidence by about 100 percent. She may have been my favourite teacher, but that didn't do anything to quench my fear of her. "Care to elaborate?"

I tried to remember the unit from last term. "The music is related to national culture. It's... um... culturally particular; from a particular region or culture."

Satisfied, she nodded curtly. "Right. Please try to be more punctual next time."

I nodded meekly. "Yes miss."

As she moved off to torture someone else, I heaved a sigh of relief and turned to the back of my notebook, where there were pages and pages of mindless doodles, random song lyrics and bit and pieces from my stories. I had chapter parts strewn through all my notebooks, confusing the teachers sometimes when they turned up on the back of my homework. That went hand in hand with the Gallifreyan symbols and Star Trek badges that I drew in the margins of my notes. Overall, my stuff was always cluttered with drawings, and the teachers had learned long ago to ignore the 'pointless rubbish'.

While I idly doodled flowers in my notebook, my mind and eventually eyes wandered back to the boy sitting next to me. Curious, I peered through my curtain of hair, trying to get another glimpse of his face. Unlike everyone else, I wasn't grossed out by Quasimodo's appearance- it was more like a horrible fascination to me. I parted my hair, allowing me to see better, and looked closer. Well, he maybe be ugly, but he's got cute little ears... and he's definitely very strong... I thought back to our previous encounter and smiled to myself. And he has the greenest eyes I've ever seen...

Suddenly realizing what I was doing, I straightened up and stared straight in front, trying to follow what the teacher was saying- or trying to distract myself from thinking about Quasimodo again. Of all the guys I could've been thinking about, I had to choose the ugly one. God, how embarrassing.

"...and I hope you've all been paying attention because there will be a test on Wednesday." Miss Basso looked at the clock and gazed around the class. "No homework for today. That's all. Welcome back to school, people." The bell rang, and I looked down at my notebook, which was empty except for a flower border. Paying attention... right... Shaking my head, I gathered up my stuff and walked out the door with everyone else, pleased that the school day was finally over.

It was a few weeks into term, and everyone had settled into their usual routines. My back-to-school depression had faded as I began to enjoy my schoolwork- creative writing in English and a painting unit in Art. Maths was, as always, more annoying than informative, History classes were never attended, and nothing much was happening in Music, although Miss Basso had darkly hinted at upcoming special projects. I didn't know whether to dread or look forward to it.

My seat in Music had become a permanent fixture, since Quasimodo always took the same seat and no-one else wanted to sit next to him. Surprisingly, I had only copped a minute amount of teasing for this, which I could easily ignore, although sometimes I wondered if it would be different if Esme was sitting there. No one would dare tease her, no matter what she did.

We had all been shocked by Esme Azarola's seeming transformation. As the class bully through primary and high school, she had always been the first to single out fresh meat for her yearly torture. In junior primary, she had quickly established herself as top-dog, and even I hadn't escaped her target- my first and second grade memories were mostly of her and her girlfriends, Sky and Chloe Cook, cornering me in the toilets, stealing my ball and being generally mean. Thankfully my friends and I hadn't been in her sights for a long time, and we hoped it would stay that way.

But now! It seemed that whenever Quasimodo was in trouble, she was there to help him out, whether it be to pick up his books or stand up for him in class. Rumour had it that she had blown off the boys to help him reorganize his locker after someone trashed it. Was it possible that the resident mean-girl was turning over a new leaf?

"I don't believe it." Dez shook her head, looking skeptical. "No-one changes that fast, especially not her."

It was lunchtime, and we were grouped around the unused half-court on the far oval. Dez was surrounded by pieces of her clarinet, which she was busy cleaning, while I tried to twirl a basketball on my finger and eat at the same time. The other sat around, watching us or eating.

"I bet she's using him."

Em rolled her eyes at Bex. "Duh, that much is obvious, but what for?"

"What could she possibly hope to gain by befriending the school freak?

"It's gotta have something to do with the dance. By now she's usually busy plotting her moves."

"I guess we'll find out at the end of the month." I stood up and kicked my lunchbag to the side. "Are you guys finished? I wanna get some practice in."

Grumbling, Dez shifted her broken up instrument, while the others got up to join me.

"Come on, Dez, make it an even team!"

She glared at us but quickly put her instrument away and joined us anyway, and pretty soon we were playing a rowdy game of basketball.

It was 3:1, my team (me and Dez) FTW, when a rebound bounced out of the court and into the hands of Phoebus James.

My mood was popped like a balloon as he lined up the shot and effortlessly tossed it through the hoop from the edge of the court. He taught me that. Not only that, but he caught it and refused to give it back.

"Aw, c'mon Phoebus!" Em leaped for the ball, but was easily side-stepped. "Give us the ball!"

"Yeah, shouldn't you be fawning over your darling Esme?" I teased.

He tossed his blond hair and looked over at me tauntingly. "You know you're just jealous."

"Not in your life!" I shot back bitterly. Watching him take another shot, I looked at the ground and shrugged like I didn't care. "It doesn't matter, guys. Come on."

Dez and Em looked at me in surprise, then grabbed their lunches and moved to follow me, but Bex stood her ground. "Give it back, please."

He began to dribble the ball from one hand to the other, a glint in his eye. "See if you can get it, little 9th grader."

For a moment it looked like Bex was going to back down, but then, quick as lightening, she kicked him in the shin. Taken by surprise and pain, he dropped the ball, which she promptly snatched up.

"Thanks," she simpered sweetly, and skipped over to us, where we went about congratulating her.

Phoebus glared at us. "Damn, Michi, your friends are fierce!"

I froze, and slowly turned to face him. "Don't call me Michi."

His eyes widened. "C'mon, you're not still-"

"I said don't."

"Mich-"

"I SAID DON'T!" I stepped back and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "Don't even talk to me, James, ok? I don't wanna hear anything you have to say. Not any more." I turned, grabbing Dez's sleeve. "Let's go, girls."

And, surprised by what they had seen, they followed me.

Bex, the only one not aware of what had just happened, was quick to bring it up once we reached the lockers. "So what was that about?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." I put my basketball in and took out my books for the next few classes, slamming the door shut. "Let's say we have a history and leave it at that, ok?"

"Ok."

I knew Dez would probably fill her in later, so I didn't bother continuing. "Good. Now, I think I'll go to music early, if it's ok with you guys."

"Sure, but why music?"

"Cuz the art-room's too far away. See ya." Not bothering to hang around for a response, I trudged away, lost in my own thoughts.

It was hard not to get emotional whenever I had some kind of interaction with the guy I swore I'd never speak to again. I was feeling confused and moody and angry and weepy, which in turn made me even more angry with myself. I had always wanted to be tough, to be that girl who doesn't need a man to complete her. I always scorned at those girls who were boy-obsessed, but the truth was I still couldn't stop thinking about Phoebus. I wasn't still in love with him, no way; or that's what I told myself, anyway. I honestly wasn't sure how I felt. All I knew was that I was still upset about the way he had treated me, and I desperately wanted my pathetic-ness to end. But it didn't look like anything was going to change any time soon.

I entered the classroom and started heading to my usual back seat before realizing that one- the room was practically empty so I could sit wherever I wanted, and two- Quasimodo was also there already. With Esme.

He was sitting straight (or as straight as one with a hunch could be) and listening attentively to what she was saying, a peculiar glow lighting up his features. Esme saw me and looked away, deeming me unimportant, and turned back to Quasimodo as I found a seat somewhere in the middle. "So you'll come?"

He nodded eagerly, and she smiled and turned to go, hardly sparing me a glance. Quasimodo watched her go, and I was struck by how transfixed he seemed to be with her. I was sure he never caught a glimpse of her face as she left the room, but I saw the sneer of disgust that came over it as soon as she moved away. It made me angry that she was playing with his feelings like that, but at the same time, I wondered why I should care. He was just another poor, unsuspecting freak who was perfect for tormenting. It happened all the time. Why should now be any different?

Oh, who was I kidding. Of course I cared. I cared every time to saw Esme Azarola dedicate herself to another being's ruin. But there was nothing I could do about it. I wasn't about to stick my neck out for some kid, no matter how little he deserved what was happening to him. I was invisible, and I liked it that way.

A group project? I groaned inwardly as Miss Basso began handing out the sheets. I had never liked working in a group and I worked a lot better on my own. I don't suppose I can ask to work alone?

"Now, I'm going to call out your names and put you into pairs. Then you'll have 30 seconds to find your partner and sit with them." She held up the roll. "Tiffany Amour and Jackson Bast. Holly Burns and Joycelyn Byron…"

Great, we don't even get to choose our partners. I leaned my head on my hand and stared at a spot on my desk, no longer interested in anything.

"Maxine Dalton and Hope Dixon. Quasimodo Frollo and Michigan Greene. Bella Houston…"

I looked over at Quasimodo, not knowing how to view this development. Sitting next to him a few times a week was one thing, but how much social suicide was being his partner going to be? Since when have you cared about social suicide? a little voice whispered in my mind. I considered this carefully before coming to a conclusion- never.

I shrugged and turned my chair in his direction. What the hell. Let's do this.

Coming up, Mich and Quasi's first conversation.

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