So there's something about Andre Harris that..well, not everyone but a fair few people know; it's kind of a badly kept secret no one talks about or draws attention too, in order to not cause too much rocking of the boat, and to keep friendships intact.

I know. Beck knows. Cat knows. Robbie knows. Tori knew. And Andre knows, but doesn't seem to be aware that we all know;

Andre Harris is in love with me.

Now, don't get me wrong; I'm not one of those girls who thinks every guy who even shows an ounce of attention to me wants in my pants (although to be honest, lots of them do), or that all my male friends are in love with me (case in point; Robbie Shapiro. He's terrified of me, yes, but not in love with me). But he doesn't hide it too well. The second I finished singing the chorus of that song 'Okay', that night long ago, I saw the look in his eye and knew.

I was a little flattered, admittedly; Andre is attractive (and have you seen his arms? Like, sweet Baby Jesus, those arms) and charming and a gentleman. Like I said before, if Beck didn't exist, I could imagine being with Andre. But because Beck was doing that whole, you know, existing thing, his feelings only served for awkwardness. I told Beck, because otherwise I'd be a hypocrite; I always accused him of knowing girls liked him and hit on him, but not telling them to get lost. So to prove the right way to do things, I told Beck that night that there may be a possibility of Andre having a crush on me.

The way he acted the next day, at the lockers, kind of proved my point, with Beck agreeing – he'd withheld judgement at my request, just in case I had seen something that wasn't actually there. The song he sang, a few days later, and obviously referring to me was sweet, a little sappy but Andre turned even the most bubblegum pop music into something catchy you wanted to dance along too. The lyrics were a bit concerning (a lot of not caring that it's wrong, that he'd still try to get to me – Beck didn't really appreciate that but we'd both agreed to ignore it and let Andre get it out of his system).

But the crush lasted longer than we expected and we had to face reality – it may be more than a crush.

I feel second worst about Andre's part in this whole thing (most of my sympathy and guilt goes to my dad, because I know how hard this must be for him). This sweet, talented boy was in love with me; he knew I didn't return the feelings and had never even made a mention of it on his part. Sure, some of his hugs lasted a little long and he stared a little too much, but never anything else. And I took that love and used it for revenge. Andre had always hated Ryder, just like Beck – he was never the biggest fan of him, but after the whole Tori thing, he hated him more than ever. And was all too willing to be vocal about his opinion on my stalker – he was actually the one who first accused Ryder, after he 'coincidentally' spotted us talking one day at school, when Ryder had brought me coffee. He was holding my forearm and I pulled it away from him – under the pretense of not wanting to be seen that close to him, in Ryder's view. But from a distance, without hearing, I knew it looked like I was trying to get him to leave me alone. And isn't it surprising that the interaction happened not too far from the window of the ground floor music room I knew Andre liked to frequent during 4th Music Composition practical classes? How strange.

The calls happening when I was with Andre was Beck's idea – it would give more concrete evidence, not just my word (and Beck's word, since he claimed to be with me when I got some of the calls). Plus, sometimes, I think it was Beck's sick mind coming in to play; he loves Andre, don't get me wrong. Andre and Beck have a Bromance that will last across the ages. But I guess he's still a bit annoyed at Andre crushing on me or whatever, and singing that song, so he took a bit too much enjoyment in tormenting Andre with his phone calls.

Andre was useful in so many ways. He didn't have a temper or a violent streak, not at all, but he was protective and would do anything to defend me or Cat (Tori was included in that, before. Before all of this happened, before she died and I turned into this monster that wears my face) so he was a great way to keep Ryder away from me when it wasn't convenient – even Ryder knew he'd have no chance against Andre, never mind against Beck and Andre. Well, not if he wanted to keep his face intact. Beck and Ryder were pretty close in size and strength, so their little scraps and fights were pretty even. Andre, despite being a teeny bit shorter, was bigger muscle wise. The very few times Andre and Ryder came to blows, Andre had the upper hand in just a few hits.

I don't really know what Beck was thinking when he suggested that specific photo set for Andre...he obviously asked me first, as he's not the type to take pictures of me like that without permission (and, thank God, realises that me giving permission for nudey photos to be taken once doesn't mean he has carte blanche for whenever he feels like it). He didn't give a straight answer, not really, not at first. But then I finally got it out of him; he wanted to test Andre. I guess Beck wasn't as confident in Andre never making a move as I was, because he wanted to check and see if Andre would say anything to us about them. I was kind of apprehensive about it; not about showing off too Andre – he'd never seen me naked, but had most definitely seen me in my underwear before (manic backstage dressing rooms don't really have much hidden areas to change in, and when you have to do a costume change in 4 minutes, you can't be fussy. Plus he's seen me in bikini's like, a ton, which is essentially just underwear) mostly because...what if Andre failed Beck's little 'test'? Who knew how much that would damage our friendship?!

Then again, Beck also has a bit of a narcissistic vindictive streak (which I love him all the more for) – it should have surprised me he wasn't as 100% cool with Andre liking me as he acted. He might have just wanted to torture Andre a little with those photos.

Either way, it was a moot point. Because Andre did call Beck, within 10 minutes of Beck dropping him off, telling him what had happened. He ripped off the more incriminating part of the note, and had looked through the photos, but I couldn't blame him for his curiosity or his desire to hide his feelings.

Standing out in the back of Andre's place, burning those photos of me, was emotional. Because I had done the exact same thing not too long ago, but the photos weren't nudes or risque. And they weren't all of me.

When Tori killed herself, I'll admit it; I had a bit of a break down. I was angry and upset. How fucking dare she do this to me?! To her own parents and sister?! I don't like many people – I'm selfish and moody and unsociable most of the time. But Tori had managed to get into my friendship group, and wiggle her skinny little ass into a place of friendship with me – I didn't have many friends. I didn't want many friends. For over a year of high school, I was perfectly content with just Andre, Cat, Robbie and Beck. But she came in, made herself to be a seemingly permanent fixture in my life and then just killed herself?! How fucking dare she do that? How dare she make me care, make me like her, then do something so stupid and selfish and permanent.

So, much like that night with Andre, after a week of realising that yes, that annoying ass Bratz doll had killed herself, I went into my back garden with a metal trashcan from the basement, a whole bunch of old newspapers and a lighter. I burned...well, almost everything. Photographs, signed playbills from shows we'd been in together, notes that had been passed in Social Studies...everything. Until I got to a crappy little cracker jack prize bracelet, the neon chunky beads glinting in the firelight. She had given me it at lunch one day, because I was PMSing and moody and snapping at everyone and everything – even Beck. But she just pulled a face at me, opened her box of snacks and then threw the bracelet at my face. I don't know why I kept it.

But I did. And I couldn't bring myself to throw it into the fire. That night was probably the first time I cried about the whole thing, and man, it was like a waterfall. The tears just didn't stop. My dad came out to check on me, finding me sobbing in front of a burning trashcan filled with curled up photopaper and waxy slowly burning playbills, and lifted me up, then took me inside, sat me on the sofa in his office and let me curl up into him and he stroked my hair and hugged me.

I've not even told Beck about that breakdown.