A/N: I know I don't usually put an author's note at the beginning of the chapter, but this was important. First, I apologize for taking so long with updating. Recently, I've been swamped with a lot of work due to school coming back up. Secondly, the reason that this is a bonus and not part 2, is because I have a certain vision in mind of what I want part 2 to entail. But doing all of this would result in a longer wait. I think I've made you guys wait long enough. This is something short and sweet until I can get the official part 2 out. I hope you all will still enjoy. Thank you for your patience.

Chapter 9: Teen Spirit (Bonus)

Date: Friday, October 22

Time: 2:30 p.m.

Place: the Smith Residence

It looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale. The tints of autumn, a mighty flower garden blossoming at the three fold windowsill, under the spell of the enchanter frost. A heavy rain pounding down onto its fragile petals. It fell in sheets, a blanket of silvery thread rushing to the ground. Jordan observed the scene through polished glass, his head resting in the palms of his hand. The weight of his eyelids blinking down slowly to shield his brown orbs from catching every waking moment. Smooth jazz music played not too far away from the radio in the kitchen, accompanied by a sizzling pan. Feelings aroused by the smell of seasoned meat on the burner. Next to it, a pot of lemon rice, kept warm on a low setting; a small congratulations dinner for making the soccer team. Jordan heard the sound of the stove clicking off. An item of silverware clanked against a hunk of metal. Jordan heard his friend pull out three plates from the cabinet, bringing them over onto the small wooden kitchen table. He always did this when he came over. Scratch that, he always insisted on doing this when he came over. Jordan adjusted himself onto the couch in the living room when he heard a pair of footsteps coming towards him. The feet stopped right to the side of where Jordan relaxed; his feet scuffed the surface of the rug.

"Are you ready to eat?"

Jordan shook his head, adverting his eyes to focus on a burning, table-side lamp.

"Not right now, Gyro."

A pause overwhelmed the two, and Jordan's heartbeat began to quicken.

"Okay. I'm going to call Ariana… see if she's hungry."

Jordan nodded slowly, wrapping his arms over the back of the couch. He spread his legs more and puffed out his chest in a fashion that made him appear more powerful. Gyro traced his brown orbs on him before stomping up the short staircase, once again scuffing his feet against the thick carpet.

The smell of his favorite meal overwhelmed him, an appetizing selection of steamy chicken breast with a side of rice. No doubt Gyro had also taken it upon himself to whip up a pitcher of his favorite iced tea. Jordan exhaled, his stomach deflating to parallel his chest. He studied his reflection in the blank television screen in front of him.

Gyro returned easily down the steps, a clunk in every step that he took. Jordan smirked, remembering a conversation that the two had had over summer. If the two of them were to ever become spies, Gyro would be the first to be caught. Back then, the two took the subject lightly, but now, Jordan felt less than comfortable bringing the thought to his best friend's attention. Ariana scampered behind him, her slim feet carrying her all the way to the couch. She plopped herself down in the seat next to her older brother and wrapped her arms around his neck. Jordan couldn't help but smile.

"Hey Ari," he greeted.

Ariana mumbled, nodding against his bare arm.

"Are you coming to eat?" she responded to him.

He looked down to his sister with a raised eyebrow, and then up to Gyro who stood with his hands on his hips. Jordan chuckled.

"Of course I am, Ari. You two go ahead. I'll catch up with you in a bit."

Ariana smiled, rushing off of the couch and running to the small kitchen area. She too, scuffed her naked feet against the carpet, a habit that both her and Gyro shared.

Gyro put his hands down from his hips, resting them at his side.

"Don't take too long, or I might just eat your food," he joked, a grin on his features.

Jordan, stared at the empty television screen, in reality finding no emptiness, but a different perspective. He could see Gyro's back, turned away from him. He smiled, seeing his blue jersey tucked neatly into his faded blue jeans.

"Of course."

With a nod, he was off, following Ariana in her path.

Jordan grinned, flashing his pearly whites at his reflection. We always see our worst selves. Our most vulnerable selves. The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. Jordan didn't want to be that man. After all that he had been through back in the United Kingdom, how could he? He wanted to be like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the riches set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. He had shed his skin and it was the best feeling in the world.

He tore his eyes away from the television screen, drawing his body up from the couch and making his way to the kitchen.

Time: 2:43 p.m.

Place: Aspen Mall

"Okay, what do you ladies think of… this one?"

Forsythia, emerging from a changing room curtain struck a fierce modeling pose. Her right hand crooked behind her head; her left resting on her hip. She wore a deep V-neck blouse colored in an assortment of random patterns consisting of green, blue, beige, and yellow. Draped over her shoulders was a thick, business like checkered beige jacket. She wore a column shaped checkered beige pencil skirt. On her feet, a pair of tacky mismatched black flats. Forsythia's dark red hair was done up neatly into a bun held together by a pair of slim chopsticks. She also sported a pair of faux reading glasses, hanging low on the bridge of her nose.

The three girls who seated themselves in front of her: Smith, Claira, and Dove, all dealt out a series of claps.

"Wowee," Smith laughed, gradually subsiding her claps.

Forsythia stood tall and proud, now placing both hands upon her hips. She gave the girls a curtsey, a proud smile shaping over her features.

"It's hideous right?" she gave a grand gesture with her hands, turning onto her heels to stare into the mirror. The teenage girl's hands immediately shot to pat down a few loose strands of her hair.

"'Syth, you look like a crinkled, crusty, bag of an old lady," Dove commented. The plus size blonde rest her hands down onto the armrests of her chair.

"I know! It's just perfect!" Forsythia squealed. She clasped her hands together in front of her.

"Let's just hope McLean thinks so too. You're going to rock opening night Syth, no doubt about it. I…" Smith started.

Forsythia furrowed her eyebrows together in the mirror. She was adjusting her skirt when she heard Smith stop speaking in her tracks. She pushed a few strands of her red hair behind her ear, her back still turned to the peanut gallery of girls.

"You what? What were you going to say, Smith?"

She focused on the taller girl behind her from the reflection that the mirror cast. Smith had a nervous smile on her face. Her shoulders were scrunched up to her ears.

"Nothing. It's not important," she jumbled her words together.

Forsythia wasn't buying it one bit. If the rushed tendency of her voice didn't give it away, Smith was never a good liar to begin with.

The petite red-head whipped her head around to be met with the back of all three girls' heads. She quirked an eyebrow at them, following their gazes up to a group of teenage boys who had just entered the store. Forsythia could easily recognize them as the incoherent group of boys that sat behind her in AP European History. Those brutes.

The leader of the Neanderthals, Josh Johnson, pointing an accusing finger in her direction. His posse shared a laugh. Smith turned back to face Forsythia, seeing her friend's narrowing eyes upon the crowd of males.

"'Syth, don't worry about what they're saying. That doesn't matter. We-"

But Forsythia refused to back down. She placed both of her gloved hands firmly upon her hips, marching down off of the platform; her black flats clanked against the floor until she was at arm's length from the group. Forsythia plastered on the fakest smile she could muster.

"Why hello Josh," she greeted to teen at the forefront.

"Hello Josh's insignificant lackeys," she nodded sweetly to the rest of them. "Why do I have the honor to be graced by your presence on this fine day?"

Her voice dripped in sarcasm. As if having to deal with them today in class wasn't enough.

"Hello Sahythia," Josh sneered, displaying his yellowed teeth.

Her mouth was drawn into a thin line. "It's Forsythia."

Josh rolled his eyes, immediately waving her off with his hand. "Whatever." He then smirked, maliciously as his cronies started whispering behind him.

"That's a nice girdle you have on there, really brings out the inner you."

He smirked, high fiving one of his friends behind him.

Forsythia retaliated, her smile never leaving her face.

"Take that mask off Josh. Halloween isn't until next week." She then gasped, placing a hand over her mouth.

"Oh, my apologies. That's just your face."

Claira and Dove who were watching the scene from afar both gasped incredulously. On the other hand, Smith cackled amusingly from her seat.

Josh scoffed, cooly attempting to brush off the insult.

"Wh-whatever, man." He looked her up and down very accusingly before turning himself away.

The scene was drawn straight out of the 1961 version of West Side Story. Josh snapped his fingers, swaggering off farther into the mall while his cronies followed after him with the same synchronized steps.

Forsythia smirked, watching them cower off. She flipped her hair over her shoulder before strutting back over to the group of girls.

Smith stood up, her bright red bob shimmering in the store lights. She smiled at Forsythia before starting a slow clap.

"Oh my gosh, Syth. That was amazing."

Forsythia curtseyed, holding both sides of her pencil skirt.

"Thank you. I'm used to dealing with beasts like them anyway."

Claira grinned, biting her lip. Her fingers twiddled around with the locket around her neck. She had noticeably been the most silent of the three girls.

"Well, we need to get these items to checkout. I'll be back, ladies."

And then she retreats back into the changing rooms.

Dove turned in her waiting seat, her curly hair blonde hair parted, one side over her shoulder and the other side positioned in front of her.

"So, are you ladies excited for the pep rally tomorrow night?" she questioned.

Dove tilted her head sweetly to the side.

Claira hummed to herself.

"Well, I have to go for cheer. So, that'll definitely be fun. But…" She twirled her hair around her left pointer finger.

"…awkward because it'll be at Pahkitew."

Smith nodded in agreement. "Extremely awkward. But who knows, maybe bringing us together will finally end this stupid rivalry, you know?"

Claira had to stifle a laugh. "I sure hope so."

"I'm not in a sport myself, but I'll definitely be there to support you and Syth," Smith explained.

Dove shifted to the side. "I wish I could go guys. But, I have a family outing tomorrow night."

Claira blinked slowly, looking at Dove with a grin. "Of course. Although… I didn't know Forsythia was involved in a sport. She doesn't strike me as the sporty girl in any circumstance."

Smith shrugged. "She's on the tennis team."

Dove covered her mouth, chuckling into her palm. "Really? But she hates getting all sweaty."

"Still, Forsythia has always been one who loved to get involved," Claira interjected.

Just as she finished up the sentence, Forsythia made her way out of the dressing room. She pushed the curtain open, now dressed in her trademark school clothing.

"Alright ladies, we're ready to go."

Dove stood up, taking her standard Tinkerbell outfit that was draped over her seat, around her arm. Claira had her own ensemble picked out as well: a classic blue floor length dress and a matching, large hair bow for her role of Wendy.

The four girls made their way to the cashier to make their purchases.

Time: 3:22 p.m.

Place: Aspen Park

The rain sounded like a drum, beating on the waterproof fabric of his forest green umbrella. His feet stood stagnant, glued into the sticky mud surface. Adagio hated the fact that the mixture was rising into his ankle boots, creating the gross effect of wet socks. But still, he stayed and waited for him. His left knee popped out as his tinted eyes searched the darkening sky. The cascade of thick greenery surrounding reminded him of the forest clearing: a little too vividly. He stuffed the hand that wasn't holding the umbrella handle upright into the left pocket of his faded jeans. His hands were a little too eager to search and he ended up hissing, withdrawing his hand back when he cut his finger on the medal of the BIC brand lighter that he had.

"Fuck," he cursed, shaking his hand off.

Adagio sighed, reaching his hand back inside of his pocket, this time, cautiously. He reached for the body of the appliance, pulling it out and holding it in front of him. With his thumb, he flicked it open, the flame that was generated casting a reflection in his pupils. On and off, he flicked the device. He was never one to harbor an addiction, let at lone a love for fire; it was just something to distract himself from the clearing. There are a hundred things he has tried to chase away the things he won't remember and that he can't even let himself think about because that's when the birds scream and the worms crawl and somewhere in his mind it's always raining a slow and endless drizzle.

Adagio perked his head up, hearing footsteps slosh their way towards him. He closed his lighter cover, never looking down to stuff it back into his pocket. Instead, his hand rested on the side of his hip.

The teen male who approached him had his shoulders hunched over. He wore a pair of baggy, blue jeans, and worn out black converse. To complete his look was a large, long-sleeved dark purple sweatshirt. The hood was pulled up over his signature knotty purple beanie, and Adagio recognized his distinct light brown bowl haircut covering his forehead and some of his vision. He placed his feet sternly in front of Adagio with an attempt to flip his hair out of his eyes.

Adagio rolled his eyes. "Stoner Charlie. To what do I owe this honor?" His tone dripped with sarcasm.

Charlie smirked, kicking his feet into the ground.

"Very funny DiVagleo. But, listen up. I have some information that you may find to be of value to you. But I ain't work cheap…"

He quirked an eyebrow in Adagio's direction, rubbing his thumb and pointer finger together to emphasize the moola requested.

Adagio sneered, scrunching his nose up at Charlie's immediate desperate attempt.

"Info first, and then you'll get your cash. And make it quick. I have to go to rehearsal." He narrowed his eyes at the boy, wondering why he wasn't so concerned that he was getting soaked from the pouring rain.

"Alright, listen up 'cause I'm only gonna say this shit once."

Stoner Charlie moved in closer to Adagio.

"So, word on the street is there's going to be some hard ass shade going on at the pep rally tomorrow."

Adagio scoffed, rolling his eyes and running his hand through his hair.

"You expect me to pay you for that? Tell me something I don't know."

Stoner paused to dig a dusty toothpick out of his pocket. He blew on it to get rid of the dust and then held it between his teeth, chewing on the wood.

"I wasn't finished man."

Adagio gave him a nod that told him he had the floor.

"Alright, so the guys on the football team are planning something nasty. They're turning the tables on this bitch. Since Pahkitew tried to come after them, they're taking the shots this time."

Adagio sighed. He should've known that Liam's promise wasn't at all sincere. That damn pretty boy…

"Any specifics?"

Stoner shook his head with a smirk. "Hey, I don't know all that man. Just know, you should be on the lookout for any… fishy behavior per say."

Adagio pursed his lips to the side, focusing on a tree stump behind Charlie and in his line of vision.

"Is that all?"

Stoner shrugged, extending his palms out.

"Take it or leave it bro. You guys might be in some deep doodoo by Sunday morning."

Adagio nodded, looking down at his ankle boots. The water had risen to cover the welt of his shoes.

He grumbled, pulling his wallet out of his right pocket, easily locating a pretty five-dollar bill. He stuffed it into Stoner's hand as a wicked grin came about the slouched boy.

"What do you plan on doing with that?" Adagio mumbled. He had a feeling that he already knew the answer to that question. It's what the boy was notorious for spending his money on.

The rain started to ease up on them.

Stoner crumpled the dollar bill into his pocket.

"What I do with my cash is none of your business."

He started to turn on his heels, only looking over his shoulder momentarily.

"But I'll see you around, DiVagleo."

And then he was off.

Adagio groaned, picking his feet off of the mud surface. He silently sloshed his way out of the forest and towards where he parked his car.

Time: 3:25 p.m.

Place: Wawanakwa Academy; School Library

Liam tapped a fairly used Ticonderoga #2 pencil against his noggin, staring down the question on the paper. His tongue was being squished between the top and bottom row of his teeth, his eyes narrowed in thought.

"Okay, what do you have to do first?" Nahliel's voice surfaced through.

The noticeably less buff, but more intelligent boy hovered over him, looking at the blank paper in desperation. To think that the future of his mathematic credentials rested in the hands of this boy...

"Come on, Liam. You know this. Think."

Liam grumbled, grasping the pencil properly into his right hand. He lowered the utensil onto the paper and drew two diagonal lines to connect both sides of the equation.

"Cross multiply?" he asked, looking up, hopefully, into Nahliel's green eyes.

The boy lit up, a wide smile taking precedence on his face. He nodded his head feverishly at the jock.

"Yes, yes. That's perfect. Go on…" he urged.

Liam gave him a small half-smile as he looked back down onto the paper. His pencil made its marks in the space provided below the problem.

6p = 8

Liam bit his lip, panicking a bit as he looked back up to Nahliel.

"Divide?" He asked in whimpering voice.

Nahliel nodded to him confidently.

Liam looked back down at the paper. He worked until he came up with the answer,

p=8/6; p= 4/3

"Is this it?" he mumbled.

Nahliel took a seat next to him.

"Bravo, Liam. That is correct. But, you're not quite finished yet."

Liam shuddered. The proudness that he felt from coming up with the right value, slowly fading away.

"I'm not? What's there left to do?" he demanded, his voice getting high and mighty.

Nahliel smiled nervously and brought his finger to where an image of a standard trapezoid rested on the side of the paper.

"Well, you have to apply the information that you found to answer the bigger question: what's the area of the trapezoid?"

Liam blinked incredulously at him, holding his arms out in a grand gesture.

"Wh-What? How the hell am I supposed to know how to do that?"

Nahliel let out a deep breath of air. "Liam. Calm down. You can do this. As my grandfather always said…"

"I don't care what your grandfather said!" He thundered, standing up from his library chair. The occupants of the library all stared at him in awe, the librarians even too hesitant to shush him.

The jock snarled to the crowd, most of them turning away.

"Listen man, I'm not smart enough for this. I'm not supposed to be a brainiac. I'm supposed to look good." He kissed his bicep for emphasis, and Nahliel was stunned at the fact that his shirt had remained in tact this whole time.

"There's no hope," he explained, lowering his voice.

Nahliel stood up slowly from his seat, looking his student in the eye.

"Yes, there is hope Liam. Just look how much progress you already made. You are smart, you just need to focus yourself. "

Liam looked away, his eyebrows furrowed together, and his brain working overtime. He clutched a fist full of his hair frustration.

"Whatever man," he grumbled. He started to collect his strewn out books back into his backpack.

"Where are you going?" Nahliel gaped.

Liam didn't bother to look up to him.

"We're done here. My brain hurts and I need to go home."

He aggressively zipped up his backpack, only giving Nahliel a glance before rushing off.

Nahliel slapped his forehead, looking down to mutter obscenities to himself.

Matt, the young lad, who had been sitting a few tables away, watched the whole scene unfold. The best-seller author tugged the corners of his mouth into a frown, sighing. He picked up the book that he was reading, pushed in his chair in, and made his way towards Nahliel.

"Salutations," he greeted, now standing in front of the boy.

Nahliel cast his head up, his green eyes meeting Matt's hazel ones.

"Oh hey Matt."

Matt smiled, taking a seat at the table.

"So, that was quite the scene back there," Matt chuckled. He brushed his hand over his flattop red hair.

"Yeah," Nahliel sulked, taking the seat across from him.

"I just don't get it. He's been making great stride. I don't know why he gets so angry and jumpy now when he doesn't know what to do. He's been so distracted lately."

Matt pursed his lips, tapping his chin in thought.

"Don't be discouraged." He stood up from his seat, putting his arms through the straps of his book-bag.

"As Winston S. Churchill pronounced," Matt paused for dramatic effect, "Success is stumbling from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm."

Nahliel smiles, getting up from his seat as well.

"Who am I to argue with Churchill?"

He looked down to his watch, widening his eyes at what was displayed to him.

"Excuse me, would you mind catching the bus with me?" he questioned Matt.

Matt snickered, shaking his head at the teen's use of vocabulary.

"Race ya," he said before zooming off. Nahliel almost tripped over himself trying to follow Matt out.

"Hey, wait for me!"

Liam stomped out of the library, grumbling to himself about math and equations. He didn't understand why Nahliel insisted that he knew this stuff. He didn't get it, he doesn't get it and he never will get it. He continued to walk down the hall, clutching his fists at his side until he heard a voice behind him.

"Liam," it called out.

Liam shut his eyes tight, turning around to meet his caller in rage.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

The teen who came face to face with him, was now revealed to be none other than Adagio.

He crossed his arms over his torso, stopping in front of the buff male.

"Word on the street is, you're planning on pulling some stupid shit at the pep rally."

Liam stared at Adagio blankly. Who the hell told him? Is there a rat on the football team? He quickly narrowed his eyes at Adagio.

"Where the hell did you get that idea? I'm dealing with other problems right now, okay? If I don't pass my next freaking Geometry test, I'm off the team. You honestly think I have time for some dumb prank?"

Adagio looked at him, clearly unimpressed. He quirked an eyebrow in his direction.

"I've known you for two whole years, Gates, and I know that you can lie straight through your teeth. Just in case you are planning to go through with this crap, just know that you're putting not only yourself, but the future of the whole team at risk. If you have any brains in that big, obnoxious head of yours, you would reconsider. Now, if you'll excuse me, I actually have somewhere to be."

Adagio pushed past him, making his way further down the hallway.

Liam sighed, heading in the opposite direction and dragging his feet across the floor.

Time: 6:08 p.m.

Place: Wawanakwa Academy; Auditorium

Theaters are curious places, magician's trick-boxes where the golden memories of dramatic triumphs linger like nostalgic ghosts, and where the unexplainable, the fantastic, the tragic, the comic and the absurd are routine occurrences on and off the stage. Hustling and bustling, a team of students rushed around, preparing themselves for the next scene to be rehearsed. The stage crew members were up in the balcony to control the lights and sound from there.

"Okay, everyone, we're going to do another take. Are we ready?" Kara asked. The blonde held a clipboard in her hand, a pen in the other. Being head of stage crew definitely had its pressures.

She came over to where Sophia and Grace held the large spotlights.

"Hi girls. How are you doing with the lights?" she asked them.

Sophia smiled brightly. "Now that Grace is here to help, fantastic."

Kara smiled at them, and scurried away, checking them off on her clipboard.

"You know, I can't thank you enough for lending a hand, Grace."

Sophia's dark blue eyes focused on the other girl. She wore a wide smile on her face.

Grace rolled her eyes playfully at the girl. "Don't even mention it, Soph. It's the least I could do after you pushed me to join the Math team. Besides, spinning these lights around is fun. Woo!"

Grace played with the spotlight, aiming it in various spots of the auditorium while Sophia held a hand up to her face, giggling with her eyes closed.

"Hey!"

The two girls heard Chris' strained voice from below.

"Knock it off! I'm too stressed for this. And where the hell is Chef with my iced latte?"

Grace looked down below, meeting eyes with Principal McLean. His eyes were bloodshot, he had on an ugly scowl, and his hair was a mess under his theatrical, red beret.

"Sorry, Mr. McLean," Grace called out an apology. She quickly refocused the light to where it was supposed to be and looked at Sophia with a shrug.

"He's just stressed out about opening night. He wants everything to be unrealistically perfect," Sophia explained.

Grace smiled. "And it's going to be perfect. I know that this is my first day on the job, but you have an extremely dedicated cast here. Opening night will be spectacular."

Sophia looked down onto the lit stage. "I sure hope so."

"Hey Scar, are we good with the music?" Kara approached the heterochromia lad.

Scar smiled, showing his sharpened teeth.

"We're a go. All the tracks are in order, and properly synchronized with light cues."

Kara nodded, checking something off of her clipboard. "Sounds great."

She approached the soundboard, looking to the two males monitoring it.

"Hi Scar!"

The teenager heard a voice from behind him. He whipped his head around, slightly confused, to rest on Piper, the sophomore student that assisted him with the music.

He grinned.

"Oh, good evening Piper."

She smiled, going to take a seat next to him.

"So…" she trailed, looking around awkwardly. "You're birthday is in like, nine days, right?"

He smiled brightly.

"Yep, same day as opening night. How'd you remember?"

Piper smirks proudly, placing her hands on her hips.

"Well, a birthday on Halloween and opening night isn't easily forgettable. Sucks, you can't do something special for it. Instead, we're stuck in school until like 11pm running the show. But, it's exhilarating, you know? Our first live studio audience! Aren't you so excited?" she gushed.

Piper was a bit of a chatty Cathy.

Scar nodded his head. "Of course. And, it's no problem. I usually just stay home for my birthday, anyway. So this is a step up," he chuckled.

Piper grinned awkwardly. "Well, I'll definitely try to get you a present."

Scar smiled, getting up to bow to her. "Thank you, Piper. You're too kind."

Piper grinned again. "It's no problem at all. Everyone deserves to feel special on his or her birthday…" she trailed.

Scar widened his eyes, letting them rest on the girl. He nodded slowly, looking away from her to focus on the production. A million thoughts swarmed around in his head.

Kara opened her mouth to talk to the two boys at the soundboard, but quickly clamped it shut when she felt her phone vibrate inside of her pocket. She stopped in her tracks, quickly pulling out the smart device and looking at the illuminated screen.

From: Eli :3

Okay, okay. How about this one? I always thought that happiness started with an H, but now I see that it starts with U. ;)

Kara giggled audibly, staring at the screen. She had almost forgotten that her and Eli were in the middle of a cheesy pickup line contest. She smiled, thinking for a moment before typing something back.

Very impressive, I have to give you that. But, can you beat this? There must be a rainbow somewhere, because I seem to have found the treasure. ;P

She grins again, hitting the send button and stuffing the phone back inside of her pocket. Turns out that the two boys at the soundboard had been staring at her, waiting for her to do her check.

"Oh," she perked up, blushing in embarrassment. "How are we doing with the soundboard?"

The nerdy boy with thick-rimmed glasses pressed an applause sound effect, giving Kara a thumbs-up.

She smiled, leaning over from the balcony to spot Mr. McLean.

"We're a go, Mr. McLean," she hollered down to him.

Chris grinned, now calmer as Chef had retrieved him his latte. He took a seat in the director's chair, quickly pulling out a megaphone from seemingly nowhere.

"Places people! Let's make this quick so that I can go home! This is the last scene for the day!"

Chef grumbled, taking a seat next to Chris and crossing his arms over himself.

The house lights dimmed, and stage lights went on.

"We're starting from the middle of Act II, Scene 1."

Adagio, Claira, and Dill, the boy playing Peter Pan, all took their places on stage, dressed appropriately in their costumes.

Adagio starts, looking to Claira, his stage wife, Maureen.

"And... action..." Chris whispers.

"…The Old Crow was quite worried about Peter's fondness for adventure."

Claira sighed, sitting herself down onto a prop rocking chair. She adjusted the spectacles on the bridge of her nose.

"That's so true. It's what parents do. Worry over their children."

Adagio turned to her.

"And there was plenty to worry over. Secretly, Peter turned his nest into a kind of boat. He even added a crooked mast and a tattered sail, which was the blanket from his old baby carriage. And every time he got an idea, he crowed! Irritating the general populace immensely."

Claira quirked her head in confusion. "I thought you said he was doing it in secret."

Adagio stalked over to the 'window'. "He had no idea how sound travels."

There is a sound effect to symbolize a dream sequence and Dill is now this Peter Pan character. He pulls a boat onto 'Maureen's' carpet, which was really just a canoe. He has become quite real for them both.

Adagio continues, narrating the scene.

"He pulled the nest-boat to the shore's edge and pushed it into the briny deep. It floated!"

Peter is now in his boat. "I name you, the Jolly Pan!" he said triumphantly.

"Neverland ahoy! ER-ER-ER-EROOO!"

Claira interjects as the scene with Peter Pan pauses. "He's really going, there? To Neverland?"

Adagio nodded confidently.

"He turned the boat toward the wind and lo! The breeze filled the woebegone sail and the tiny skiff began to move! Soon in was past the break waves and out to sea and on its way."

Claira put her hands on her hips, disappointed with Peter's actions. "That boy! That silly, silly boy!"

Adagio smirked, his voice now lower than before.

"He lay in his nest. Neverland was looming bigger and bigger. Suddenly, he noticed something peculiar in a corner of the boat-nest. His Pan-Pipes seemed to be glimmering!"

Peter picks up a hiding fairy by its wings and inspects it. Dove, who had entered the stage, being the fairy.

"A stowaway fairy!" he announces.

Dove mimicks rage. "Put me down, you big stupid boy! Put me down this minute!"

"Which one are you?" Peter asks.

Dove sighs. "They call me Tinker Bell! Now, put me down! I'm warning you…"

Back to narration, Adagio started. "A word about Tinker Bell; she is the most sarcastic, nasty, jealous, spiteful, mean-spirited fairy in the whole Fairy World. She doesn't mean to be; she just can't help it."

Claira cowered. "She sounds like a fright, James!"

Adagio smiled. "Shhh! Don't let her hear you say that."

Maureen leaned in. "And do they become friends?"

"You'll see."

Back to Peter Pan.

"What are you doing here? Why did you sneak aboard my boat?" he asked.

"You don't think I want to be here, do you? Now, PUT ME DOWN!"

Peter looks at her for a second and she drops onto the rough floor, and as she painfully arises, she notices that her wing is bent. She stands up in the boat.

"OUCH! That really hurt, clumsy. You've bent my wing. I can't fly! Now I'll never get off of this boat!"

"Cut!" Chris yells into the megaphone.

Dill looks caught off guard, as he was the next one to deliver his line as Peter Pan.

"What's up McLean?" he asked the grown man. The principal looped his hand around in a circle, which signaled the stage crew to shut off the stage lights.

"Yeah, we're done here. It looks like you guys know what you're doing. I don't need to see anymore today." He stands up from his chair as Chef stands up with him.

"You kids should go home, do your homework, get some rest…"

He stops at the exit of the auditorium. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but you guys deserve it."

The raven-haired man turns on his heels with Chef following behind. He doesn't say another word to the students but instead heads out to the parking lot.

Sophia clicked off the lights, looking at Grace.

Grace shrugged. "At least we get to go home early."

Sophia giggled as the two began to grab their stuff. They traveled down the stairs and to ground level at the exit after saying bye to stage crew.

"Hey, do you need a ride home, Soph?"

Sophia perked up. "I was just going to call my brother, but sure!"

Grace smiled, following her out.

The students all scattered. Night began to fall down on them. All that was left was a barren stage under an old, flickering light.

Tomorrow would be the first ever, and hopefully last Wawanakwa-Pahkitew joint pep rally. One could only hope for a happy ending, but the likeliness was very slim. The only thing that was certain about tomorrow night, is that nothing was certain at all. The students would just have to wait and see.

A/N: I know this chapter was short and insignificant, but it's just a bonus chapter. Please, please, please, I'm literally begging you to review. And please leave some words of encouragement in your reviews. I would appreciate it, especially since I'm so swamped with work right now. Also, the more you review, the more you will be rewarded. I'll leave it at that. Thank you for reading. Next chapter we will finally get to see what happens at the pep rally. Until next time!