Well, I really don't have that much to say. I don't own RENT. I hope you like this, it's a less morbid chapter.

"Oh Mark," Ms. Pratt said softly, giving him a hug, "It's not the end of the world."

It was the next day, and Mark had turned to Ms. Pratt for comfort. He'd already used up all his tears on me overnight. I was still somewhat soggy, but Mark didn't seem to mind.

"I know," Mark said dryly, "But I worked so hard!"

"Mark, honey, this is just more reason to pursue your dream. Mark my words, Mark, one day, you're going to be rich and famous. Don't worry. You just need to keep trying. As a wise person once said, 'That which does not kill me makes me stronger.'"

Mark nodded, "I guess you're right."

"Don't brood over it for too long sweetie," Ms. Pratt said cheerfully, "You wouldn't want to ruin your birthday with it. Enjoy your last few days as a twelve-year-old honey."

Mark blushed, straightening me out, a typical comfort for him. "Are you coming?" he asked, still looking at the floor.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"And my Bar Mitzvah?"

"Mark, honey, everything is marked on my calendar. My son is becoming a Bar Mitzvah. Right on the twelfth of March."

Mark blushed. He still couldn't get over the fact that Ms. Pratt thought of him as her son. She didn't have any children, and was more than happy to bring Mark and Bethany into her family.

……

"Happy birthday!" the little crowd of people cheered as Mark blew out the thirteen candles on his cake.

"Don't forget to make a wish," I whispered.

I looked around the room, a jolt of sadness passing through me. These were all of Mark's friends. Only Bethany, Mrs. Cohen and Ms. Pratt filled the room. That was it. Mr. Cohen was visiting Cindy as NYU, so we didn't have to worry about him, but still. Mark's friends only consisted of three people. Well, and me of course. Three people and a scarf. My poor Mark, at least he was happy.

"Open my present first!" Bethany said excitedly after we were all finished with the cake.

"Okay," Mark answered, taking a fairly small box covered in bright yellow paper from his friend. He quickly tore off the wrapping paper and opened the box.

"What is it Mark?" Mrs. Cohen asked.

"It's a…um…I'm not really sure."

"Oh silly!" Bethany said, "It's an empty box."

Mark gave her a questioning look. "Um…thanks."

"Don't thank me if you don't know what it means."

"Um, well then, what does it mean?"

"Whenever you're feeling down, just take this box to me, or anyone in this room. It kinda like a lifeline."

"Oh wow," I whispered, "It's perfect."

"Thanks Bethany," Mark said, giving her a hug, "It's just what I wanted."

From Ms. Pratt, he got a big pad of paper to write screenplays. From Mrs. Cohen he got a new pair of jeans.

"Thanks everyone!" he said, giving them all a hug, "I'm glad you could make it."

"Oh Mark sweetie," Mrs. Cohen said when everyone was gone, "Happy birthday. I'll clean this all up. Why don't you go upstairs and practice your portion?"

"Alright."

I soon became wrapped up in Mark's voice as he chanted the Hebrew. He had such a nice voice, though I'm sure he'd never realize it. Things were turning out pretty well for my Mark, and I was happy about it. He stopped chanting abruptly and gave me a hug.

"All those presents were nice," he said, "But you will always be the best."