I had fun writing this. Finally Mich is going to man up a bit and take a stand. Hope you enjoy, cuz I sure did :)

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes and leap!

I'm through accepting limits
'cause someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
But till I try, I'll never know!
Too long I've been afraid of
Losing love I guess I've lost
Well, if that's love
It comes at much too high a cost!

I'd sooner buy defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye, I'm defying gravity
And you can't pull me down.

'Defying Gravity'- Wicked.

Monday morning, about the middle of August.

Picture, if you will, lunchtime at Park Ridge High. The hallways are empty at first, silent besides the droning of teachers behind closed doors. Then the bell rings- if 'rings' is the proper word. More like blares a loud, insistent beeping through the loudspeakers and into everyone's head, giving them a blaring headache that seems to compete with the bell with it's pounding annoyance. Many constantly wish that the school would upgrade to a proper bell like the school in America or England. Others look forward to the sound simply because it heralds the end to classes and the beginning of a short burst of freedom.

Where was I again? Oh, right- Lunchtime.

The halls are full before the bell stops, a mass of yelling and screaming teenagers jostling for place, trying to get to their locker so that they can grab their food and go. Smaller ones get pushed out of the way by the bigger boys and have to patiently wait for them to leave, not bothering to protest the injustice. They know the drill- and the consequences. So they stand to the side and sigh to themselves, invisible in the crowd.

There are some, of course, who actually like being invisible. It bring with it a kind of freedom that introverts love- if no one can see you, no one notices when you make mistakes or say something stupid. You don't have to make conversation with someone who can't see you (or chooses not to). These invisible people hear things, see things, go places. Or, as in most cases, just sneak around and do what they need to do every day.

But anyway...

In a few minutes, half the chaotic crowd has gone, relocated to the eating areas or the oval, migrated together in the many cliques and clubs and crowds that make up the school. The rest make it to the lockers and get their lunches, then vamoose before anyone catches them, hoping to stay out of sight of the many bullies and mean kids who roam the halls spoiling for a fight. And a fight is one of the few things that can be counted on every day. Someone always manages to be on someone else's bad side.

And today is no exception, as a few people are about to find out.

As the majority of the crowd began to clear, I stepped out of the classroom and into the fray, weaving between groups catching up on gossip, couples engaging in embarrassing PDA, and other kids just going about their normal, daily routine, heading for the hallway that contained my locker.

Stopping at the corner to let a pack of giggling cheerleaders past (why we had cheerleaders at all I didn't know, since they weren't used for 'cheerleader stuff' and we didn't have any events that needed them anyway), I stooped down to re-tie my shoelaces and slipped off my jacket while I was at it, the midday heats tarting to get to me. Winter here was more of a joke- chilly in the mornings and evenings, but in the middle of the day it could get as hot as summer. Some winter, I thought gloomily, straightening up and then jerking back quickly, eyes wide, for now I found myself face-to-face with Quasimodo. He stood there in front of me, looking like he was waiting for something. I quickly stepped back, blinking in surprise at the suddenness of it, and stared at him, my mouth, embarrassingly, still hanging half-open from the gasp I only just managed to suppress. We gazed at each other for a few seconds, me gaping stupidly and him waiting patiently for... what? This was the first time we had made eye contact in about a week or two since Esme's triumph. I had been too ashamed to look at him, and he... well, God only knew what was going through his mind, but he probably hated me, both for being right about her and for not having the guts to stick up for him. We had almost completely ignored each other, even managing to do so in Music when we had to work together on a report. Instead of consulting, planning and writing it together, we had simply worked independently and put our separate pieces together. We had managed very well with no communication of any kind, and now we were facing each other in the hallway, neither of us knowing what the other was going to do. The awkwardness was so palpable I could almost taste it, and it wasn't a pleasant taste either.

After a few moments of this strange, silent staring contest, he glanced away, over at a point somewhere behind me, then looked back at me. He did it again, and I followed his gaze over my shoulder to see... the bubblers.

Oh. Woops.

I had been standing directly in front of the water fountain, and he clearly wanted me to move.

I moved out of the way, feeling like a big idiot, and started walking again, trying not to think about those gorgeous green eyes that I had been trying hard not look at the whole time, for fear that I'd be mesmerized again. I was starting to be a little worried about the amount of influence that boy's eyes had over me. I seemed to lose my ability to think and speak coherently when I was looking at them, and to be honest it was kinda starting to freak me out.

This was pretty much exactly what I was thinking when the jerks showed up.

"Hey, freak!"

I turned, looking for the source of the insult. Quasi had been just about to take a drink, but he stopped too, and I immediately recognized the familiar tensing of the shoulders that happened every time something bad happened. The insult could've been meant for anyone, but it was like, from that one phrase, he knew exactly what was going to happen next.

"Yo, half-formed unfinished freakazoid from planet ugly, we're talking to you!"

Aaaannnd now I did too. I bit my lip and clutched my books tightly to my chest as the three boys came into view. Andrew Hallows was the one who had just thrown that extremely creative insult- he was part of The Gang, a royal sleaze-bag and probably, if rumors were to be believed, Esme's secondary boyfriend. They surrounded Quasi in a loose triangle, blocking any way out, and stood there as they began to draw a crowd. Curious onlookers had heard the insults and were drifting in from lunch to see what was obviously going to be a fight of some kind, and soon a ring of people surrounded the four of them. Now there was definitely no way out.

"So..." drawled one of them, drawing out the word more than was necessary to prolong suspense. With a sinking feeling I realized it was Phoebus. How far he has fallen from the lovable guy I used to know, I mused sadly as I watched the scene with trepidation. Now was usually the time I ran away, ignored what was happening, but this time... no. Not this time. Something was different. I wanted to stay and see what they would do, if only out of curiosity. So I stayed, lost in the crowd that had gathered, all of them excited at the prospect of a fight.

"What do we have here?"

"I-I j-just want to g-get a drink," Quasi stammered, looking at the ground. It was the first time I had heard him speak to anyone besides me, and the sound of his voice, so soft and reticent and fearful, produced a strange reaction in me. All at once, my heart gave a great thump and my throat went dry, though whether this was from fear or something else I couldn't tell. I had an inkling that it might have been 'something else', but I didn't have time to ponder it. I didn't want to ponder it. Still, it kept me stumped until Phoebus spoke again.

"A drink, huh?" He looked around to make sure everyone was watching, a trick he had probably learned from Esme. "Well, I don't think you deserve a drink. Not after what you did to Esme. I think you deserve something different. Something... more filling. Maybe a knuckle sandwich?" He suddenly lunged forward and grabbed the front of Quasi's jacket, pulled him close with a scowl, his fist raised.

"I-I-I d-didn't..." gasped Quasi, dropping his books and raising his hands in a feeble appeal for mercy. "I-I-I-I d-d-d..."

"No, I know you 'd-d-didn't'," mocked Phoebus, getting up close in his face, "Everyone knows you didn't succeed. But you tried, didn't you?" He shoved the other boy back, making him crash into the fountain, and held him there. "What were you thinking, huh? Was it a chance for revenge? Or maybe you thought you'd try something on a girl for once, have little bit of fun? 'Cause of course the only way that could happen is if you kidnapped her. Was that it, then? Got a little lonely, alone in your room with your fantasies, and decided to go nab yourself a poor unsuspecting girl? What kind of sicko are you, huh?"

As he continued shoving Quasi against the bubblers and spitting more hurtful remarks in his face, my eyes widened as I realized what he was talking about. I myself had only just found out about it.

That morning, the school had been buzzing.

As I walked up the path to the main building, pulling my new black-and-white varsity jacket ($30 from SES) tightly around me and silently contemplating life, the universe and everything, I noticed that there seemed to be an uncommon amount of local newspapers floating around, either held by shocked-looking gossipers or flapping around campus in the breeze. I paid no attention at first, being more occupied with getting out of the cold August air and wondering if I was going to sit with my friends today or wallow in self-pity in the art-room, but by the time I had made it to my locker I couldn't help but notice everyone else's attention directed on the newspaper, which seemed to be the focus of the aforementioned 'buzz'. Having spent the weekend with my family cleaning the house and watching old sci-fi re-runs, I wasn't at all up-to-date with local events.

That's why, when I picked up the 'Jimboomba Times' from in front of my locker and glanced at the first page, I was completely and utterly flabbergasted at what I saw: the words "SCHOOLGIRL ALMOST ABDUCTED" splashed across the headlines, accompanied by a grainy picture of Esme Azarola crying. Scanning the article inside, I learned, to my shock, that Esme had been attacked in the carpark of the Park Ridge Tavern by two men who nearly managed to drag her to their car, but was saved by the quick thinking of a boy who alerted staff and tried, unsuccessfully, to fight the would-be kidnappers off. Later, during questioning, she had accused a fellow student of being one of the attackers, which seemed to be backed up by a witness's rather vague memory of his appearance. But after questioning the accused, who had an alibi supported by a parent who also happened to be a well-known and trusted police officer, the witness retracted his statement and despite Esme's insistence, the charges were dropped. It had all happened quite quickly over the weekend and was now almost old news, and though I sympathized with Esme and wondered about the situation, I hadn't made any connections.

But now, hearing Phoebus accusing Quasi of the unthinkable, I remembered that Quasi's dad was a police officer and probably the only one to be able to support his alibi, for as far as I could see the boy never went out of the house. But the matter had already been resolved. Did everyone still believe he had done it? Esme evidently did. Or perhaps her wild accusations were just another way to ruin his life. Quasi may be quiet and secretive and kinda freaky-looking, and she was making his life miserable, but he would never do something like that... would he? I shook my head forcefully, angry at myself for even thinking such a thing. No. Of course not.

Phoebus leaned closer, bending Quasi back against the fountain in a way that looked excruciating with his hunch. "Thought you'd try and hurt my girlfriend, did you? Thought no-one would find out?"

Quasimodo's eyes were bulging out of his head with fear and pain, terror all over his warped features. "N-n-n-no, I-I-I-"

"You can deny it all you want, but we know the truth, don't we? No-one believes your alibi, no-one believes your lies. And now you're going to get what you deserve."

My hands flew to my mouth, my books dropping unheeded to the ground as Phoebus' fist connected with Quasi's stomach and the deformed boy doubled over, gasping and wheezing in pain. The crowd "Ohhh-ed" in excitement and began to cheer, all of them watching with horrible fascination. Everyone loved a good fight.

Everyone accept me.

I stood there, hands clasped to my mouth, tears in my eyes and a churning feeling in my stomach as Phoebus starting beating up my friend. With each punch I flinched, while the crowd laughed and egged him on. Quasi never cried out, and I realized that this had happened before, probably many times before. So that's what he meant when he said they hurt him. This probably happened at every school he's ever been to. I felt so powerless, standing there watching him feebly trying to protect himself from the blows. He could easily defend himself, but he doesn't want to. Why? Why isn't he defending himself? Andrew and Brett picked him up off the floor and shoved him towards Phoebus, who caught him and shoved him at the lockers. The torture went on, and I through my horror and and tears I felt something growing in me, something reaching up from deep in my heart and filling me up. My lungs constricted and my chest was tight; I felt like I was choking on it. I was angry, really, truly, seriously angry. This was nothing like my irritation at Esme, the world and my sisters, this was pure rage. My hands dropped to the side, fists clenched and shaking, and my tears seemed to dry up in an instant. Every punch, every shove, made it stronger. I was being taken over, and I didn't even care. I think I knew what was going to happen even then. The sight of Quasimodo, lying choking and gasping and bleeding on the floor, cemented it. Before I even knew what I was doing, I was pushing through the crowd and to the front, where Phoebus was standing over Quasi, about to reach down and yank him up for another round. He never got a chance to. I grabbed his shoulder, turned him around and punched him in the face.

He fell.

The crowd quieted down so fast it was like someone had flipped a switch.

I stood above Phoebus, who was clutching his face in pain and staring up at me in shock, and stared down at him, ignoring the pain in my hand. "That's enough," I said quietly, but loud enough so that the entire crowd of people gathered could hear. "That's bloody enough, you hear me?"

He did, but he didn't like it. He glared at me and was about to retort when someone else interrupted our little scene with a phrase that would strike fear into anyone's heart in that situation.

"TEACHERS COMING!"

The crowd erupted in panic and started draining away, crashing into each other in their haste to get away before the teacher caught them. I gave Phoebus one last scathing glare before turning to Quasi, who was curled up in a ball on the floor, and grabbed his arm. "Get up."

He uncurled and stared at me with disbelief, and I shook him impatiently. "Come on, we have to go. Here, I'll help you up."

He took my hand and eased himself up, and I swallowed my horror as I saw the extent of his injuries. His nose was bleeding, and his face was covered in bruises that were already turning purple. From the way he held himself I guessed there were similar bruises up and down his body. I didn't want to hurt him anymore than he was already, but we had to hurry before we were caught. Andrew and Brett were already helping up Phoebus and dusting him off, and he was holding a tissue to his nose to staunch the blood. I felt a brief jolt of fear when I saw what I had done, but that quickly changed to satisfaction, for I had finally done something that I'd wanted to do to him for a long time, and it felt pretty good.

But the teacher was indeed coming. I looked around and spied a side door, and grabbed his hand and ran through it just as the teacher came into view. I could hear her briskly asking Phoebus what had happened, and him giving a lame excuse- "I fell, miss!"- before I pulled Quasi through another door opposite and we found ourselves outside the building. I quickly got my bearings and found a toilet block nearby, and before anyone could see I had shut us both up in one of the unisex staff toilets.

Safe.

I locked the door and let out a shaky breath as the full extent of what had happened and what I had done came back to me. I had stood up for Quasimodo. I had punched Phoebus in the face. Everyone had seen it. Both Esme and Phoebus would probably be out to get me now. And I sure as hell wouldn't be invisible anymore.

Damn.

I pulled myself out of my musings and looked over at Quasi, who was sitting on the toilet seat trying to catch his breath, still shaking. The sight of his injuries shocked me again and I quickly grabbed huge wad of toilet paper and ran it under the water, then tried to clean up his face. As soon as my hands got close he jerked away, eying me apprehensively, but after a moment he leaned forward again, a little calmer, and I quickly washed off the dried blood from his face, trying not to think about how close we were. He was so close that if it was any other situation I could just lean forward another few inches and close the distance between- My eyes widened and I stopped for a moment, my face and neck heating up as I tried to bury the thought. Where the hell did that come from?

I threw away the wet tissues and gave him some dry ones to staunch his nose, avoiding his eyes as I looked him over. "Maybe you should come to the sink. There's still blood in your jacket. And your hair."

He nodded and got up, his legs a bit wobbly from the shock still, and I turned on the tap and motioned for him to dip his head in. He did, and I washed out the blood, admiring the colour of his hair as I did. Not even Bex had such vibrant red hair. Maybe I should dye my hair again soon...

I suddenly remembered what he had been doing before the boys had appeared. Gently pushing his head out of the sink, I washed my hands and cupped them under the water. "Still thirsty?"

He looked at me, surprised.

"You did say you wanted a drink."

So he drank. Later on I would wonder why I didn't think it was weird for him to be drinking out of my hands, but at that moment I was only thinking about helping a friend. When he had finished drinking and wiped his mouth dry, he thanked me quietly and turned away. For a moment, I though I saw him wipe his eyes, too. But I wasn't finished yet. I tapped his shoulder and tugged on his jacket. "You should probably take this off."

He hesitated, obviously not wanting to give it up.

"It'll be easier," I added.

Sighing, he unzipped and shrugged out of it, and I gasped when I saw why he'd wanted to keep it on. There were cuts and bruises all over his arms, some fresh from today and others, strangely, obviously older than a few days. What has he been doing...?

He saw me looking and looked away, trying to hide them from my view but obviously unable to. I said nothing, though, and took the jacket and started washing it in silence.

"So, are you ok?" I asked after a few moments of secretly observing him.

I could hardly hear his reply, but I was sure he mumbled "No, I just bleed for fun."

"All, right, no need to get snarky-" I stopped to process what he said and smiled a little. "You know, I think that's the first time I've ever heard sarcasm from you. Well done."

He humphed, turning away to get some more toilet paper, and I finished washing the jacket and laid it over the sink. He finally stopped bleeding a short time after and threw out the tissue, then looked at me expectantly, as if to say 'what do I do now?'.

"Oh, right." I checked my watch and found we had about 10 minutes before the bell rang, then tried to think of what to do. I didn't like the idea of him going out there without me and probably getting beaten up again, but he couldn't stay in the toilet for the rest of the day. Where could he go where he'd be safe...? I almost laughed out loud when it came to me.

"I have a place for you to go," I told him, unlocking the door and peering out. The area was almost empty, so we tiptoed out and I lead him around the school, avoiding people until we stopped in front of the door to the art-room. I unlocked it and stepped in, beckoning him in after me, turned on the lights and pulled out a few chairs. "Here you go."

He stood in front of me, tapping his foot nervously. "W-why are you helping me? W-why did you stand up for me?"

"I was angry." I sat down and idly remembered that our books were still out there on the floor somewhere. "I couldn't stand there and do nothing, like usual. You were getting hurt. Besides, I've been wanting to punch that guy for a long time, so he had it coming."

"B-but why?"

I looked down. "I felt ashamed. All this time you've been getting bullied and I never did anything even though I could've. I'm sorry for that. But I wanted to help you all the time. I guess what really got me mad was that you were being falsely accused. I hate that."

"So... you don't believe I did it?"

I stood up and went to the door as the bell rang. "Of course I don't believe you did it, Kaz. I know you too well. You'd never do something like that." I checked the corridor outside, then looked back at him with a smile. "Ok, you can stay in here for the rest of the day. No-one ever come here, so you should be safe. I'll come and check on you later."

He nodded soberly, and I left, confident that he would be ok.

Reviews? Just to let me know what you think?

Also, just randomly, what's your favourite musical? Mine is 'Wicked' :)