This February is gonna be completely insane. I'm busy doing some matchmaking and helping my friends with some Valentine/crush/liking issues and so far, I'm more nervous than they are, so it's been throwing my writing track completely off track.

Yeah, this Valentine's Day was gonna be…something.

But I hope my February updates for LL will still be as often as they are now, once a week at best. Every other week if it gets completely nuts.

So that is my love plans for this month. And it's weird because I'm writing Halloween in this story when it had just been V-day in real life. Whatever.

Yeah, I figure I'd explain a little how my future looks and why updates will be kind of sluggish for a bit, but don't worry, I'm trying to work out the kinks.

October 14th 2013

Christine's Pov

It was after school when I decided I was going to do it. I had to face them sometime didn't I? And why not on a Monday?

Rem was taking a break, reading a home styling magazine of sorts. I found it ironic how alike Tasha and her were, but they had not met each other, not really. I would have to do something about that later, I thought when stepping completely inside the house.

"Hello," she greeted without looking up, "how was school?"

"Same old, I guess." I slung my bag off my shoulder and took of my jacket. Some hair fell into my face from escaping my bobby pins; I blew at them—they went up and came back down stubbornly. "Tina's still a brat, Bree's still off, and Chase is…acting like Rachel."

While I hadn't been able to gather my wits enough to talk to Rem about my decision on theatre school, I had no problem explaining the weird behaviors and goings at school. Telling her things like that came naturally enough to be said without thought.

But telling her I want to leave early in the semester to a school I didn't even think I'd like? That would need some careful treading.

"And Rachel?" Rem prompted.

"Still…crazy." No use in denying the truth, is there? Especially to someone who could detect my lies before I could.

Rem flipped a page. "So basically your average everyday high school life?"

I nodded, inching toward the stairs. "Yep, pretty much."

I could never tell what Rem was thinking. She had emotions as real as mine, but I could never tell what inside that head of hers besides wires and gears. Dad must've built her with memories, created or borrowed from his own; I came to this conclusion on my own. But wasn't lonely for her to stay here all day—a maid practically?

I was going to have to set her up with some friends, maybe it will help me feel a little less guilty with the whole "secret theatre life" I had going on.

After making up some excuse about practicing lines and tying some loose ends with homework, I hurried upstairs and pulled my bag into my lap. After some frantic searching (Jesus, I really needed to clean out this thing.) and a little bit of cursing, I found the wrinkled pamphlet.

Biting my lip, I looked down at the front picture. It was the front of the building, Juilliard written in bold print across the top. From looking inside it a dozen times, I knew it showed the inside of the school—the stages, the courses, other priceless sights of the school—and had paragraph after paragraph of information and history on the culture of the school. Might I say, it was very convincing.

But could I really leave everything behind for an art school? I couldn't picture myself leaving my boyfriend, friends, family, and home behind, and I certain couldn't bring them with me—no matter how much I wanted to.

When giving the matter deeper thought, this was really all Alissa's fault. I would have been perfectly fine going on obliviously unaware that she had ties to Juilliard and thought that it would be the school that suited me best. So really, with that logic and reason backing it up, my scattered thoughts on a school I hadn't considered for my life was to be blamed on her.

"You really have great potential for going far in theatre," she'd told me after practice the other day.

I'd had been in a rush to get home and was only half listening. "Really?" I had asked as I started to put my stuff away.

"Really." Alissa seemed dead set on continuing this conversation further, and I sighed, knowing I didn't have a choice.

"How so?"

Alissa grabbed her bag—the one she used for all rehearsals to put spare and lost scripts and other things I hadn't bothered to ask about. After she had a little rummaging session, she pulled out a thick pamphlet.

"For starters," she began, "your talent of remembering lines is phenomenal. And you obviously have major talent with being in character at all times on stage. And you know, many Broadway performers started with doing plays in school."

She was right, but at the time I had other things to worry about. "What are you saying?"

Alissa handed me the booklet and I stared down at it before shoving it inside my bag and starting toward the door.

Just think about it.

I tiredly tossed the booklet on my nightstand—away from me. I laid down on my bed and just thought. Leaving my dad—that was something that just couldn't be done. At least not intentionally. Yes, it would be pretty amazing to go to a performing arts school in New York, but it wouldn't be my first rodeo in the big apple.

But there was the fact on his behavior. He wasn't that old, mid to late thirties. Stress, maybe? I had thought about my being involved in theatre bringing back painful memories of his romance with Maria, which could totally be possible. That was probably it, and it just made me feel worse.

Rem knew something, but Lord knew she would rust over before actually giving me the answers. I either had to earn it, or things had to have a major turn of events before she stooped to do such a thing. It wasn't her best trait, but that's what made her Rem.

As I rested there, looking up into nothing but the blank paint of my ceiling, I thought about my family, friends, and others—and how we were all linked. Like in a book I read once. Rem was the mother like character who was tied into everything, had knowledge of everything, but Hell would freeze over before she let you get your nose in too far too fast. Dad was the lost, dazed parent who was either in their office or room, sulking or blanking out.

In a way, I could relate to the main character that was stuck in the middle of different worlds. One world was my performing; my other was with the people I cared about.

Could I really leave them?

No. I just couldn't do that. Juilliard was a school; these people that meant everything to me were much more than that.

I slapped my hand over my eyes.

I needed a nap—desperately.

October 15th 2013

I woke up in a fussy tangle in my sheets, confused about what exactly I'd been dreaming about. All that came to mind when I tried to think about it was an abnormally intelligent duck and the stagnant smell of sweaty socks and burning popcorn.

I was such a freak.

Dragging myself to the closet, some clothes were tossed onto my bed with my makeup bag (completely Ashley's doing when she found out I didn't have one—I swear, she nearly died.) and threw my black Vans near my bed; or, at least in the general direction of my bed.

The girls completely attacked my clothes for the fall. And Bree's too, as far as I knew. Instead of letting me live in peace with my usual style, they swapped all my T-shirts and V-necks for patterned sweaters and long cardigans. And, to which I heavy protested to, they hid away most of my jeans for leg warmers and leggings, leaving me with only two or three pair to go on until winter—possibly.

(They knew I would get them eventually, but stayed in public with tons of witnesses, I couldn't strike too soon.)

I looked into my new wardrobe, puzzled. It was like looking into Ashley, Sammie, and Rachel's closets combined. After a few minutes of sleepy stalling, I looked to see what I tossed on my bed, blinking to see if it was just a blind mess of clothes.

But, no. It actually looked pretty good. Although, that didn't mean much—something I would pick out if my eyes were fully open, however. It was a simple floral knee length dress with a navy blue button up cardigan, a white flower headband peeking out of the pocket.

They truly prepared me for everything, didn't they?

I stumbled to my dresser, still asleep and wishing I was under my covers, despite my weird dreams. I yanked the first drawer open and dug out some socks and my thin leather brown belt for the dress and my other essentials for the day before getting ready.

Five minutes later I was officially wide awake, but not happy; I looked like a Barbie doll from one of our vlog shows. The only sign of me was my Vans, which I was sure would be gone the second my back was turned. Scowling, I recited Rachel's fall fashion-slash-accessories rule and grabbed some fruity perfume, giving myself a good spritz for the day. I wasn't one of those girls who ditched deodorant completely for perfume—God, no. But it never hurt to have…extra help.

"You're looking well," Rem commented when I came downstairs. I was still scowling.

"Of course you would say that."

For a quick breakfast, I grabbed an apple and Nature Valley granola bar. Recently, no one paid any mind to me having coffee, so I dug out a Disney mug, poured the black liquid in, before adding nearly twice as much coffee milk in. I may have liked to have my share of coffee, but the strong taste as plain was just too much, and the milk helped. Not much, but some.

After realizing I was a few minutes behind due to knowing where nothing was in my closet anymore, I dumped the rest of my coffee into a water bottle and hurried out the door, shouting a goodbye to Rem as I went.

Rachel was…actually bearable for most of the day. The morning had to be her worst time, but mornings were everyone's off time of the day, so I let it slide. For once. And, if I didn't know better, one word I could've used was calm.

But saying calm to describe Rachel in anyway was unlikely in every way possible. Maybe it was her having the added pressure of the vlog with having to study for Driver's Ed this year, but something changed.

"I personally think its Adam's fault," Janelle observed during study hall. Where, obviously, no studying was being done, let alone thought of. "Everything was perfectly fine until he started making goo-goo faces at Danielle again."

Oh my freaking—I completely forgot about that! Rachel had called a girl meeting over the phones, extremely livid over the fact that Adam was paired with Danielle on two—not one but two—projects for school. She was convinced they were doing way more than research and I, being a girlfriend and all, couldn't blame her for her paranoia. Besides, Adam hadn't really picked up on her liking him yet.

Their mess of a relationship was still a major work in process.

Before I could tell Janelle on my large case of forgetfulness, Chase came in, dragging a monstrous looking Bree behind him.

"Did she get hit with a truck or something?" Janelle asked when he dropped his sister to the floor. Bree weakly raised to her knees, leaning against his leg. It was a sad, pathetic sight to see honestly.

"Really, what happened to her?" I asked, a tiny bit more curious than concerned on the matter.

Chase shrugged, looking down to his leg. "I don't know, virus, maybe?"

He may have been the genius, but I could tell it wasn't a run-of-the-mill virus that had given Bree this erotic, horrendous behavior. It was too out of the ordinary—even for a bionic teen. Even though I had completely blown off her worries of something strange happening with our bionic training during the beginning of the school year, I was starting to suspect she wasn't that far off.

But maybe we had been asking the wrong questions and looking at the wrong angles all this time.

"What would Davenport find successful in turning her into a zombie?" I thought aloud, dropping to kneel to lug Bree's body into a chair. She was my height, but with way more muscle, making her body a little hard to manage on my own. Once she was in a desk, she drooped forward, her forehead making a loud smack on the desk. "It doesn't seem like him to purposely make something fail."

Janelle decided to add in her two cents, which wasn't that far off. "What if that's it?" She had our attention. "Like what if he wants to see how you guys act to a certain sickness or plague type of thing?"

"We're nearly invincible," Chase snorted. "We don't just get sick."

"Exactly—heavy emphasis on nearly."

Chase squinted, ready to counter her retort when he stopped short, realizing she was right. He fell silent, dumbfounded because of his superiority being damaged.

I smirked, laying a hand on his shoulder. "That bruises your ego a bit, Einstein?"

"Like a banana."

For the last couple of minutes before the bell rang, we discussed this new theory further. All of us (especially Chase) felt stupid for not considering this sooner. But my concern was different than the others; if he was willing to do this to Bree, how soon would Adam or Chase was next?

It was when the bell finally rang and everyone began to rush toward the door, I, with the help of Chase and Janelle, managed to drag Bree to the nurse's office.

"We don't deal with run-overs," the busty nurse called out from behind her desk. She had a heavy Southern drawl, and was filing her nails.

This school was a sad, pathetic place.

"She just needs a cot to use for sleeping," Chase explained, taking his sister from me. "She's been having insomnia issues lately."

The nurse smacked her lips and tossed a clipboard at us. "Fill this out and pick up the body before school ends."

Chase grunted away, pulling Bree into the back room. I took the clipboard and began filling it out. By the time he came back, Janelle and I had finished most of the questions.

"I have no idea what her medical history is." I handed him the clipboard.

Janelle tilted her head. "Or if she even has one."

"Of course she does," Chase replied offhandedly, filing out the question at lightning speed. He tossed the clipboard back at the nurse, even though she didn't care, and walked out the door with us.

"Well"—Janelle stretched to the sky—"that's enough drama for one day. I think I'll get some lunch. Either of you coming with?"

Even though I was pretty hungry, Chase and I needed to have a little couple meeting, so I waved her off.

"We're going to have a family dinner."

His eyebrows nearly shot up to his hairline. "Okay, mind cluing me in?"

"For starters, my dad really needs to get out the house." Chase knew of Dad's sudden weird behavior and was as puzzled as I was, but didn't object as I continued on. "And I thought it'd be the perfect place to reveal my decision."

"Rem, too?"

"That was a stupid question." I smacked him on the shoulder. "Of course Rem, too."

Chase held his hands up in surrender. "Fine, but Eddy may have some things to say about that."

"Yeah, like Edie can't keep him in line. Don't worry; I got my ways."

So that's it for this chapter. I'm sorry it's more of filler than expected, but I promise you the next one will be better and hopefully come sooner.

I really wanted to do the next chapter in Chase's Pov so it can lead in more to Bree's sudden sickness and strange attitudes. Because that will be an entire different subplot of its own, and it helps having something that can't be Christine's Pov but more Chase's, like hers with the play.

That's all for now. Love you guys, and if you have anything to say on the chapter or your predictions on the next one, please leave a review.