Part Seven:

"I like to think of myself as just a girl who happens to have powers. And it's just one thing in a list of attributes—loyal, friendly, regenerative, good skin, you know."

- Claire (to Gretchen) (Pass/Fail)

Jessica was right about the families attending. The families formed their little groups spread across the auditorium. They were easy to identify. There were the proud parents with their cameras, the scowling siblings checking the time and texting, then the little children squirming in laps and running along the aisles exploring.

I look up and down the rows of seats. Where to sit… I'd rather not have to sit directly by any of them. To listen to the parents gush and wave at their "darlings" or be asked who I was and which one of the band members were my relation was not high on my list on how I wanted to spend my evening.

I make my way to the back. The lights are dimmer back here and all the families are sitting in the front half of the seats to be as close as possible to watch their "darlings". I sit in the last row, my back to the wall with a glowing exit sign a few seats from my right. From here I can take in everything. I settle in, taking off my coat, slipping my keys in my pocket and putting my purse under my seat.

Ten minutes behind schedule the band finally takes the stage after the band leader has given a lengthy drawn out speech involving many a thank you. She almost looked convincingly surprised when one of the band members presented her a bouquet of flowers in thanks like she didn't expect it. Then the rest of the members take their places and so the show begins.

They play a few well known tunes but the majority was bland, uncontroversial, politically correct songs. Don't get me wrong, Jessica was the one wrong. The band wasn't terrible; they just weren't that good either. Not to mention they didn't have to best song selection.

My eyes catch sight of the form of Angela. Jessica was right about the fact the Angela was brilliant on the flute though. It was plain to see that she had practiced extensively and was naturally talented to begin with. She was one of the best there, weaving in and out of arrangements, her music one with the rest but taking on a life of its own. Her eyes closed, cheeks flushed, her fingers flew along the length of her flute.

It isn't something I would have expected of her. Before her hands were clammy and she'd fiddled with her flute case. But then she walked out on stage like she owned the place, the picture of easy confidence. Who would have expected that under that shy, wall flower lived a passionate musician? There is always more to a person than what they choose to show the world.

"What do you think?" A silky voice whispers next to me

I jump out of my seat like some one had lit a stick of dynamite under my chair. I whirl around to the figure seated next to mine, leaning on the arm rest staring at me. I didn't need anymore than the dim light to notice his bright bronze hair practically glowing and the slight smirk he wore.

"Oh sit down, you're blocking the view."

Oh so he is still in his snarky, playful mood. I think.

Slowly, not taking my eyes off him I sit back down. How did I not notice him sit by me? How the heck did I even forget that he mentioned he was coming tonight? How the hell did I become so rusty?

"What do you think of the music?" He asks in an off hand tone.

…Music? Oh, right… "They're," I search for the right term, "alright I suppose."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic."

"Do you want me to get some pom poms out and do a cheer?"

He smirks. "That would be amusing."

I give in to my childish impulse and stick out my tongue at him.

He overlooks my immaturity. "What made you decide to attend this evening?"

"Angela Weber, a friend of mine, needed a ride. I also thought the experience would be… interesting."

"Trying to educate your musical palette?" He teases.

I ignore his comment. "And what brings you here? Come often?"

"No, this is my first time. I thought it would be an 'interesting' experience."

"I see," I say, though I really don't see. This makes his attendance tonight kind of spontaneous.

We don't say anything else. We both face the stage and listen to the music. At least I try to. I'm hyper-sensitive to whatever Edward does now, every shift, every blink. It is thoroughly distracting and highly annoying.

I feel restless. I can't seem to get comfortable in my seat. I'm the one now squirming like a three year old. And there feels like there is something in the air and it is heavily concentrated in the space between Edward and me. I have no idea what to make of it.

I try to remember why I'm here. One, Angela needed a ride, two, give Angela support and three, to narrow down the list of possible suspects on who my mysterious piano player could be. Yeah, I know I'm being all Nancy Drew but if I can't even be the real me here can't I at least have some fun?

My eyes rove over the students playing their instruments. My eyes rest on the piano and the figure playing. My first reaction was this guy couldn't possibly be it. He was alright but he just wasn't as good as my mysterious player. Well there is one possibility I can cross off.

At least another hour drags on before the show is over. The parents clap wildly, and their kids halfheartedly do so as well. Only a few overly enthusiastic parents give a standing ovation. Oh what the heck, I think to myself, Angela deserves it. I jump to my feet, among the few to do so and clap; even giving a loud whistle that draws Angela's eyes over the small sea of people and to me, beaming. I notice Edward out of the corner of my eyes also on his feet clapping as well.

After all the bows, last round of thanks, the show is done. Teenagers pack away their equipment and excitedly chatter with their band mates as the families try to make their way through the throng to locate their own brood. I wait a few minutes for the aisles to be less packed before I make my way over to find Angela. She emerges amongst the mist, grinning from ear to ear. She sets her case down; then in a very un-Angela like fashion, she throws her arms around me much to my surprise. Tentatively I hug her back, letting myself wear a small smile that no one can see. This feels…nice.

She breaks away, her face exuberantly flushed. "Thank you so much for coming."

"Wouldn't miss it," I say sincerely. "You were amazing."

Angela's happy smile pauses for a moment, her eyes narrowing at something over my shoulder. Then a mischievous smile took its place. She leans in really close to my ear to whisper though I have no idea who she thinks could possibly over hear in this chaos.

"I knew it. I saw you sitting by him." She sing songs.

"Wha-

"I would like to congratulate you Ms. Weber on your spectacular performance." Edward says from my side, making me jump. I had no idea he had been ghosting me. Angela blushes bright red from Edward's praise. Her eyes find mine though, still holding a triumphant look. She was getting the wrong idea…again.

I fish the keys out of my pocket. I was ready to go now.

"It was so sweet of him to come and watch me. And then he gave me those flowers…" Her face wears a sappy grin as she thinks about Ben. She mashes her ice cream into mush, twirling then licking some off her spoon then resting her face in one hand. "He asked me to the dance. I can hardly believe it. Pinch me, I must be dreaming."

I reach across the table to do as she bid. Angela shrieked and evades, dropping her spoon into her lap. The soda I'm drinking almost comes out my nose. She gives me an insincere scowl as she dabbed at her skirt with a napkin.

I laugh. "Believe it. I was there." I take a long sip from my soda. "He probably got the guts when he realized what great catch he was letting slip through his fingers."

"Oh now you make me feel like a fish. Besides, it was premeditated. How would you explain the flowers then?"

"He could have bought them off your band leader Ms….well whatever her name is." I say, almost managing to keep a straight face.

"You're horrible Claire Butler!" She flings her dirty napkin at me.

I duck, grinning. "Just being a realist with a sense of humor."

"More like a pessimist with a bad sense of humor." She sniffed.

"Excuse me?" Our waitress asked, distastefully eyeing our mess that she'd have to clean up. "Are you finished yet? I have your check." She looked over across the café at a table that was just occupied by a handsome young man.

Wow, the service was just great here. I was about tell her we weren't finished when Angela nodded her head, still in her happy bubble and took the check.

"I'll get it," I say and reach for my purse, only, it isn't there… what? I spin around in my seat, looking on the back where I thought I hung it and under my chair. Maybe I left it in the truck?

"Oh don't worry about it, I'll get it." Angela pulls out her wallet from her purse.

I bite my lip. I had wanted to pay. It was Angela's night.

The waitress just taps her heels, clearly impatient. She swivel her hips just so, looking over her shoulder to ogle the eye candy just waiting for her to flirt over. Angela quickly pays, leaves a generous tip and grabs her coat. The waitress pockets her tip, walks the long way back to the counter with the check, right past the man's table, swaying her hips as her heels click on the tile. I just shake my head and follow Angela to the truck, wondering about my purse.

We climb inside, as I had my keys in my pocket to unlock the doors. Not that I know why I should even bother. I doubt anybody would go to the trouble of hotwiring and risk serving time for this thing.

I fumble with the lights. I look in the back. My purse isn't anywhere to be found.

"I don't remember you bringing it in the café." Angela says. "Are you sure you brought it tonight?"

"Yeah, I'm sure I did. I brought into the concert and…" I grip the steering wheel tightly in realization. "I left it under my seat." Because some one was busy being weird and another someone was making too much out of said weirdness.

"The school is going to be closed now but you can get it tomorrow."

"Yeah, if it is still there," I grumble. Some custodian was probably getting an unexpected bonus right now. I didn't have much money in it. Thank God I only carry around my fake I.D.

"How was Portland?" She watches me closely from the passenger seat, her face shadowed from the dim light. I start the truck, making my self look away and think.

Portland… "Well… Portland was Portland. It was pretty big." Was it big? It must be, it being the capital of Oregon. "I liked it. I had friends, places I knew, familiar with. It was home." It wasn't. Odessa Texas was. I had friends. I had a familiar home town. I had security and faith in the world. I had it all; now, none of it.

I keep my eyes on the road. I need to get Angela home. I need to stop talking.

"You never talk about yourself much." She points out the obvious. It is always the quiet ones who are the most observant. Damn it; and I had to choose her to be my friend. I should hang out with Jessica more. As much as she loves to stick her nose in other's business she never probes past the surface. But I like Angela, her honest sincerity, her pure untainted self. I admire her for it, saying sane, clean in a world of crap. It is also why I shouldn't get to close to her. I should never wreck it for her.

"I was," I was young, naïve, bright, bubbly, popular, beautiful, open, free, living a lie. "I was a cheerleader at my old school." Was that safe to say?

"Really? I wouldn't have pegged you for one." She tilts her head to the side, holding her hand up in the air, as box framing me and squinting out of one eye. "I guess I can kind of see it."

It was safe.

"So why aren't you now? Why don't you try out for the new opening?"

I'm slightly taken aback. I couldn't, could I? No, I couldn't. It just was…I'm not… I don't think I could throw that superficial, filled with team spirit, mask on again. The cheerleader part of my high school experience was over.

"It wasn't me." I say honestly, surprising myself.

Angela just nods though like what I said make perfect sense. I pull up in her drive way. I see a light in the front window framing a figure looking out, waiting up for her. Angela grabs her case from the back seat and throws her purse strap over one shoulder. She races up the steps. As her mother opens the door Angela turns and waves once. Then she is inside.

I pull out the drive and head home. I turn my radio off. The music, it just didn't fit right now. As I pull up my drive there are no lights on. I get out of the truck and walk up the steps.

I stop at the top, looking out at the small suburban night. The road was lined by street lights lined in regular increments, little orbs of orange drawing the eye. There is no movement, no breathe of life, only a still life. All lights are off in the houses. Everyone is snuggled in their warm beds, content, safe in their routinely simple lives. I envy them.

I look into the black sky, the stars hidden from view. They are too far from Earth, this world. They have no control over the clouds, how they move and constantly hang over this place, unable to break through.

I turn to my door, opening it with my keys. I open the door wide, breathing in, then out. I step through the threshold.

I am young, but old, bright, yet dim, naïve no longer, caged, alone, living a lie.

I close the door behind me, shutting the night out, and locking the door.

A/N: So as I said before (I think anyways) this chapter (7) was originally going to be part of chapter 6. But it was little long together and this part needed more editing so it made sense to break it down.

Also I was thinking about the last episode in season one of Heroes (How to Stop an Exploding Man) and how in chapter 5 of this fiction I have Claire references 'the Japanese man' a.k.a. Hiro Nakamura. Anyways I realized Claire didn't even see Hiro stab Sylar. She arrived on scene after escaping Angela and Nathan and when Peter started becoming radioactive. I guess for this fiction we can pretend she did see it or her dad told her. Am I just getting too technical?

I'm sorry if this story is going a little slow for some of yours taste. Just a little spoiler: people can (if they are) stop waiting for a van to pop out and hit Claire. They aren't going to find out that way, just a heads up.

Hope you've been enjoying this fiction so far. :) I'll try to update as soon as it is next conveniently possible. Thank you for all you kind words in the reviews!