A/N: Well, this chapter is insanely short. It's really just filler before getting to the epilogue, which will be pretty epic if I do say so myself :) I'm quite excited for it!
Oh, and I introduced a new character (or an old character if you think about it) into the mix. He serves his purpose well, I think, and I enjoy him immensely. But who doesn't? ;)
Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time! *cough* sheep1215 *cough* :) I'm glad you like it so far! And it won't end that sadly, promise.
Anyways, enjoy this chapter (despite it's shortness) and drop a review would you please?
Chapter Eight-Become
When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.
~Victor Frankl
Everything was changing.
Phoebus left for boot camp a few weeks after Quasi had left us. A few months later I started college with a major in Psychology. I had found my calling in helping people, I guess.
After Quasi left, I felt different somehow.
I had accepted myself. I liked my reflection, finally. I felt like a whole new person. And I had figured out what Quasi had meant by Become; by accepting Quasimodo, a strange, sweet, misshapen boy, into my life and into my heart, I had finally accepted myself.
He had completely changed my world perspective, that little brother of mine.
And I still couldn't find him.
There are simply too many people listed as "Anderson" in the phone book. For a while I went about it systematically, just going through the names and calling people. But, after a while, with no results, I stopped.
I had to focus on my school anyways, I told myself.
But I missed Quasi so very much.
I had this friend in college, a theater major guy with a minor in Psych who everyone called Clopin. He was a freshman like me, originally from Canada (unlike me) and we had wound up meeting in one of my Psych classes. After several weeks of chatting about nothing in particular, our families had come up in conversation.
I wound up telling him everything about my crazy family life in the past year. About Phoebus and his army tales, about my parents and how great they were. And about Quasi. In fact, a lot of the conversation was about Quasi; I had even shown him the carvings that I had brought with me from home. Clopin was very interested in his story, and wouldn't stop asking questions, so eventually I got fed up with answering them all the time.
"Look, how about I just write it all down for you, so that you'll finally get all of your questions answered!" I had exclaimed in exasperation.
Clopin, surprisingly, had liked the idea. "Yes, mon cheri. And please, write it all down in story form, to make it all the more exciting." I punched him in the arm for the French term, then sat down and actually thought about his proposal. To write down the last year of my life in story form.
I eventually did it, and it took me several months to write and perfect it. Clopin, after reading and enjoying the entire story, finally let the subject drop, apparently having all his questions answered.
And yet, I feel like all my questions haven't been answered fully. Because this story still doesn't feel quite complete.
