Chapter 5:

"Denial ain't just another river in Egypt," –Mark Twain

Alek woke up, faint buzzing in his head. He leapt up and screamed when he saw two huge brown eyes staring right at him. "OH MY GOD!"

The two eyes moved backwards, and Alek could see it was the girl that he had almost nailed with the car. Where was he?

Looking wildly around, Alek saw the beeping monitors, the white sheet over him, the curtains—he was in a hospital. Noticing a stinging from his forehead, he reached up his hand and felt a piece of gauze.

The girl looked at him. Alek glanced at her. It was all her fault he was here, so his glance wasn't a happy one.

She didn't look intimidated at all. With large brown eyes that somehow reminded him of a deer, and dark brown hair, she smiled. Alek flinched.

"I'm Bay Lohemann. I'm sorry you almost hit me. It was sort of scary actually."

"What are you talking about?" Alek was bewildered. "I scared you?" He was shouting now. "YOU CAME OUT OF NOWHERE, I SWERVED MY CAR OUT OF THE WAY, GOT HIT BY ANOTHER, AND YOU SAY YOU WERE SCARED?" Then a thought hit him. "What happened to my car anyway? Why did you come running out of nowhere?"

"I'm schizophrenic," she said simply.

Alek sat there for a second. He didn't get it. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't remember.

"It's sort of multiple-personality disorder," she said. "I was in one of my bad sides. I sort of don't know what to do when I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I scared you."

"It's ok…" Alek trailed off. Now he felt bad—and he didn't want to. It hadn't been his fault—it had been her fault.

"Your car was pretty much destroyed," she told him. "My dad said he'd pay for a new one."

As Alek mulled over it some more, he realized that the girl looked familiar. "Haven't I seen you somewhere?"

"My dad is Mr. Lohemann. He's a millionaire; he donated all that money to the hurricane in New Orleans—I just moved in to here from California. You've probably seen me on the news or something."

Great. He'd almost killed a millionaire's kid. Probably lawsuits filed against him soon.

xxx

Meanwhile, Jorge was staring at a pair of large brown eyes as well. He was sitting at an awkward dinner between his dad, his soon to be step-mother, and across from his soon to be step-sister.

Connor noticed his frustration. "I know this was sort of sudden and everything Jorge, but this is Kathy, as you've already met," he flinched softly at the memory of Jorge puking everywhere, "and this is Julie, her daughter."

Julie threw a distrustful look at him. She wasn't someone you would label beautiful. She wasn't even pretty. With her short black hair and distrustful looking eyes, she sort of looked scary actually. But then she smiled a nervous smile, and Jorge saw that she didn't want to be here as much as he didn't.

Jorge choked on a potato. Julie grinned—she had a wolfish grin, a mischievous one, but when Connor looked over at her, it disappeared into a small sad look, as quick as someone spreading peanut butter. Then, Jorge looked deep into her revealing eyes—she wasn't only sad, she was scared. Dead frightened.

Someone's hurt her before, he thought. I wonder who.

Somehow Julie looked really familiar. Jorge was pretty sure he'd seen her somewhere, only he couldn't remember where.

His dad looked over at him, probably wondering why his plate was still full with his potatoes, steak, and green beans. Then he glanced over to Julie. A smile quickly appeared on his face, and disappeared just as fast.

"Do you two know each other?" he asked.

Jorge didn't look at him. He'd practiced that. His dad had no right to get married without telling him, and then dragging him all the way out here, away from Mom who really cared about him, to show him his new perfect family and his dysfunctional step-daughter.

"Do I know you?" he asked, hoping Julie would answer the question.

She didn't take it as a corny pick-up line. She studied his face. Jorge could feel her eyes traveling over his smooth skin, his long, fluffy-looking hair, his bluish-greenish eyes.

"No," she said quietly. "I don't think so."

That was the end of that. But as Jorge fell asleep that night in an unfamiliar bed in a room right next to hers, he couldn't help feeling that he'd met her somewhere. But then those thoughts were blocked out by what his dad had done. How could he have done that to him?

He felt tears come to his eyes, but he pushed them away. Boys didn't cry. He'd learned that a long time ago.

Bass4HRU: jason

MadSkater101: What Jorge?

Bass4HRU: dad is getting MARRRIED and im so p.o.'d. Kathy.

MadSkater101: Why don't you tell him? Tell him you're mad.

Bass4HRU: since when has he listened 2 me or even cared

MadSkater101: …I don't know. But you can always try again.

Bass4HRU: wut do u know—why do u always type things out—annoying

MadSkater101: I'm sorry.

Bass4HRU: since when do u know anything im sick and tired of u

Bass4HRU: u cant help me with anything—alek is better at that

MadSkater101: I'm sorry Jorge.

MadSkater101: I'm not very good at helping people.

MadSkater101: Jorge? Are you there?

Bass4HRU: im sry jason. its not ur fault. just feel so hurt and angry.

MadSkater101: It's ok. I understand.

Bass4HRU: so how bout u?

MadSkater101: ((groans))

Bass4HRU: come on. u r gorrrgeous… everybody luvs u.

MadSkater101: That's what I'm afraid of.

MadSkater101 has just signed off.

Bass4HRU: jason? man, im sry. i 4got.

Bass4HRU: jason…come back man.

Bass4HRU: nvmnd

Bass4HRU has just signed off.

xxx

West smiled. He couldn't believe it. This jacket was amazing after all.

Bending his head over and studying the stitches on his coat, he thought about how right that message was. Do something.

Well, he'd done something. He'd gotten the lead role. How could he expect more than that? He'd tried hard—West tried hard at everything he did. Wait, scratch that. He didn't try hard for the band. The band made him think of his friends, so he erased it from his mind, and focused on his role.

Phantom of the Opera. He could see it now. Starring Weston McArthur. He'd swish his black cape, and Jorge would laugh at how stupid he looked. Alek would try to hide his laughter behind his hand, and Jason would smile.

His mom and d—no, he couldn't think about that now. His mom would be there. It would be perfect.

He was lost in his daydream, and almost didn't hear who else was in it. Sarah Kaplan—Christine. Well he could believe it. She was an amazing singer.

Sarah walked over to him, flipping her dirty blonde hair in his face. "Guess this is it, huh, Weston? Nice jacket, by the way."

West nodded. This was it. This was it.

He pulled out a Sharpie from his jeans pocket, pulled the cap off with his teeth, and carefully wrote down on the front of the sleeve. Phantom of the Opera with Sarah.