Hey guys, hope I haven't been too long. I was away for the weekend and had no internet access.

Ok, so last chapter there were some serious conversations, card games and romantic singing. Now there's more sneaking around and we meet a new character.

Thanks to Leslie the Sorceress and Antikreativ for your reveiws. Keep 'em coming, readers.

Read on!

When I look into your eyes
It's like watching the night sky
Or a beautiful sunrise
Well, there's so much they hold
And just like them old stars
I see that you've come so far
To be right where you are
How old is your soul?

Well, I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up

'I Won't Give Up'- Jason Mraz.

The rest of the week was pretty ordinary, with no other awkwardness or strange feelings, and practice went well every lunchtime. The girls joined us half the time to listen to my progress and probably to spy on us too. I didn't want to care about them joining our sessions but a tiny part of me was actually annoyed that they were there. And that is itself worried me. When the heck had Quasi become more important to me than them? There was something amiss in the way my mind worked, I was sure. But I couldn't pinpoint it, so I just left it and suffered in silence.

But on the weekend, something unexpected happened. Since my grandparents lived next door, they would often come over and tell us where they were going before they went out in case we ever needed them or wanted to come along. So when grandad came over and told us that he was going to see a friend in Boronia Heights, you can bet which one I thought of first. Having got the sneaking around thing well practiced now, I decided to pay a little visit.

On a whim, I grabbed my skateboard on my way out the door, and we left, me thinking out a plan all the way into town. We had some friends who lived in a housing estate on the way into Boronia, and it wasn't too far to Quasi's house from there. I could walk or skateboard there if I was game. Was I game? After twice walking around that neighborhood at night I was fairly certain that there could only be one answer to that. I didn't even question the fact that even though I saw him every day, I was willing to go to almost-extreme lengths to see him on the weekend as well, despite the fact I had never in my life been so dishonest with my family before. Things were changing, it seemed.

So I asked grandad to drop me off on the way, and he agreed to it. He knew the friends I were supposedly visiting, and since it wasn't out of the way he has nothing against it.

Dishonesty had never been so easy.

He dropped me off in front of their place and told me he'd be back in about half-an-hour, and I waved until he was out of sight. Then I ran out of the estate as fast I could and jumped on my skateboard once I hit the main footpath. I skated down the road, hair flying in the wind and legs already sore from the unexpected spurt of excersise; passed the shops, turned down the right block, counted the streets and almost collided with the signpost for Notre Dame Ct. Breathing heavily and wondering if I was going to have a heart attack, I dragged myself up the street and stopped in front of number 14, only to find something totally unexpected waiting for me- another car.

Oh.

I scratched my head as I tried to catch my breath, swinging my skateboard back and forth and waiting for something to come to me.

What now?

Who was the visitor? What did they want? I couldn't imagine Quasi or his dad taking social calls. Was it still possible for me to sneak in? Was I game enough to try?

I smirked at this last question. Again, there was really only one answer to that.

I tiptoed forward- completely unnecessary given that the grass muffled my footsteps anyway- and when I was sure there was no one around to see me, I jumped the fence and quickly made my way around the side. I felt very exposed in the daylight, but the street was empty and most of the windows covered, so it seemed I was safe for now.

Quasi's window was closed, and when I peered through the smudged, dirty glass, I saw him sitting on the bed, paper and pencil in hand, drawing. I watched him for a moment, absorbed in his activity, extremely focused, before realizing I didn't have very long and tapped on the window. He jumped and looked over, eyes wide, and I smiled and waved as he reached over and pushed the window up.

"Hi there!" I greeted him brightly, leaning on the windowsill and peering inside. "How are you this afternoon?"

"I'm f-fine," he replied, nervously peering over his shoulder at the closed door. I could hear muffled voices coming from behind it, but no-one seemed to have heard anything from this end yet. "W-what are you d-doing here?"

"Well it's good to see you too." I shrugged and held up my skateboard. "I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop by. Don't worry, I won't be long, and I'll be quiet. Can I come in?"

He looked flustered for a moment, but then he nodded and shifted over. I hoisted myself up and fell inside, taking care not to roll off the bed or make too much noise, and sat up quickly and looked around. I was in a boy's room. I was in a boy's room! Now this was different. It certainly wasn't as cluttered as mine, or as colorful, and that was really saying something since my room was pretty neutral. This was just grey and a little bit of black here and there. No ornaments, no decoration except for a framed photo with cracked glass on the desk. Pretty boring. Still, it was a boy's room!

"So, what are you doing?" I asked, crossing my legs and making myself comfortable.

Quasi picked up the papers from the bed and folded them in half, trying to hide them. "I-I was just d-drawing, that's all," he muttered, about to stuff them under the bed. I stopped him just in time.

"Wait, can't I see?"

He passed them to me without resistance, embarrassed. "Th-they're not v-very good..."

I doubted his words, because I knew that he would always undervalue his work, but I said nothing. Instead I examined the drawings for myself and decided that my friend was ridiculously talented and way too modest- although the latter was probably his father's fault.

The drawings- more like amazing works of art- were done in black pencil and ranged from animals to trees to faces. The first few pages were wolves and elephants, copied from an animal book I had seen on the desk. The details were intricate, wrinkles and fur and shadows and eyes done meticulously. The next few were leaves and shrubs and trees as seen from the window. Dez liked to draw nature too, her favorite subjects being gum trees, but hers were nothing like this. Tiny veins on leaves, rough, stringy bark on trees, little gaps and stalks in the bushes outside; I traced these little things with my eyes and committed them to memory, wondering how one person could be so talented. And then I got to the portraits.

The first was a woman, unfamiliar and striking. Although only in pencil, I could tell that she was in her mid-twenties and had dark hair and eyes. She looked exotic and foreign, perhaps European or Middle-Eastern. Her hair was wild, her eyes had a far-away look in them, and her mouth turned up at the corners miscieviously. I didn't know her and already I liked her.

The next one surprised me, but on reflection I realized it shouldn't have. Esme had had an impact on Quasi's life, no matter how brief their fake friendship had been, so that I guess it made sense that she would feature in his artwork. Yes, it was her alright, detailed and life-like and beautiful down to the last line. She was smiling for once, but whether intentionally or not, he had captured the malicious glint in her eyes perfectly. Even in sketch she was cold, imposing, and calculating.

And the last one was... me. Me, bug-eyed, long-nosed and freckled, exactly in proportion and perfectly correct, but somehow softened and refined. It was me, but prettier. Almost... beautiful.

I had been silent until now, but this last picture moved me to say something.

"These... These are amazing. I can't believe..." I cleared my throat, amazed to find myself almost moved to tears by my portrait. This was totally unlike me, and I didn't know what to do about it. "I-Is that me?"

That was how to deal with unexpected emotions- ask obvious questions.

"Yes." Quasi answered timidly, searching my face. "D-do you like it?"

"Like it- it's beautiful! But why did you make it so... so... I don't know... Is it really me?"

"Yes."

"But it's beautiful!"

"Yes...?" He looked at me as if too ask: And your point is?

And suddenly I understood.

I had never blushed in my life, but if I had been able to I probably would've. As it was, the butterflies in my stomach were uncountable and my brain was spaghetti. I put down the drawings and tried to gather my scattered thoughts, at the same time trying not to appear too affected by what he had said.

"S-s-so, um, wh-who's here?" I managed to ask, cursing the stammer that only came out every so often, usually when i was angry or excited or, in this case, extremely nervous.

Quasi's eyes flicked over to the door for a second, where the muffled voices continued. "Th-that's Johanna. She's a d-distant relative a-and a... a social worker, I think she s-said. She comes over sometimes and t-tries to talk to us, b-but dad doesn't like her. She asks t-too many questions. But she g-gives us money, so he has to b-be civil."

"Gives you money?" I wrinkled my nose and pointed behind me. "Well he doesn't seem to be using for anything important- the house is a wreck! What does he do with it?"

Quasi shrugged sadly. "Drinks, mostly."

I immediately felt terrible. "Oh Quasi, I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "It's f-fine, I'm used to it."

"That doesn't make it right." I pursed my lips, angry. "Doesn't Johanna see what a bad environment this is? She should be able to do something about it!"

"She tries. But d-dad makes sure it looks s-safe enough t-to not n-need reporting."

"I wish I could do something."

"You can't."

"I know."

But I didn't want to believe that. I wanted to believe that there was something I could do, something that would make everyone plainly see that not everything was right here. But I couldn't risk getting Quasi even more hurt than he already was. I had to be patient and think it through. I had to-

I caught sight of a clock on the wall.

Crap. I was going to be late.

I gave him an apologetic look. "I have to go."

He held up a hand. "Hold on. Wait for Johanna to leave f-first."

"And how long will that take?"

"She's getting ready to go. Listen."

I listened. Though I couldn't really hear any difference in the constant mumble of their conversation, I could hear the unmistakable jingle of keys being handled, which I supposed to mean that indeed she was preparing to leave.

I edged myself up onto the windowsill and grabbed my skateboard, taking care not to make any unnecessary noise. "I have someone waiting for me. She won't see me, I promise."

He nodded. "Goodbye."

"See you at school." I slipped out of the window, shook myself off, and made my way to the front of the house.

It turned out Johanna was doing the same thing. I only just managed to jump back before the door opened and a short, smartly-dressed blonde woman walked out, followed by Officer Frollo. Johanna stopped and turned halfway down the weed-strewn path to say something to Frollo, and I felt my breath catch in my throat as her eyes caught mine. This was it. I was going to be caught out by a social worker and a policeman and god knew what would be the consequences of that. Escorted home, telling my parents, worrying grandad sick when I wasn't where I was supposed to be...

But I wasn't. The woman looked at me, then went back to talking to Frollo. Then she pointed to the other side of the house and they headed over that way. I couldn't believe my luck.

I did not waste any time getting out of there and soon I was skating up the road towards my destination.

But I didn't make it there by myself. In no time at all, a car pulled up beside me and Johanna rolled the window down.

"Do you want a lift?" she called, raising her eyebrows and looking me up and down. I imagined I looked pretty terrible- the way back was all uphill and I was sweaty and aching. Now believe me when I say that while I might be reckless and stupid sometimes, I had been well taught not to accept anything from strangers. So I definitely hesitated to get in that car. But the woman was a social worker, and she had saved my butt a few minutes ago. And she had an aura of 'niceness' around her. Plus, it was hot outside and the air con was on. So I murmured a 'thanks' and got in.

"I'm Johanna du Moulin," she said immediately, pulling out onto the road.

"Michigan Greene," I muttered, looking out the window. I was still a little uncomfortable being in a car with a stranger and I feared the questions she was inevitably going to ask, so I suppose that was the reason for my unfriendliness.

"And where am I taking you?"

"Madison Heights."

She nodded and was silent for a little while. Not for long, though.

"So," she began conversationally, glancing at me. "That was some impressive sneaking back there. I didn't even hear you leave. I take it you've had some practice?"

"Some," I allowed. I wondered if I should tell her everything or if that would only end the way Quasi seemed to believe it would. Her voice was friendly, but the tone beneath was watchful, probing. She definitely wanted to know something.

"I also take it that you're not very welcome there, or else you would've used the door."

"Officer Frollo isn't a very welcoming person."

"You've got that right." Johanna sighed and shook her head. "I honestly don't know what I'm going t- um, never mind. Sufficed to say, he's a character. Always has been, but especially since she died..." She cleared her throat and rapidly changed the subject. "Anyway, I presume you were visiting Quasimodo?"

"You presume correctly."

"Let me guess- school friend? Sneaking out for frequent illegal visits? Pretty close, too, by the looks of things."

"Right on all accounts."

"I'm glad."

I blinked and looked over at her. "Huh?"

She was smiling. "I've known the boy all his life and I have never known him to have a close relationship with anyone besides his mother, and she's been gone for quite some time. You are probably the first person to care even a little bit about him, including his father. Given his outward qualities and introverted-ness, I commend you for your effort."

Well, she put that in the nicest way possible. "How do you know we have a close relationship? How do you know if its an effort?"

"You sneak out to see him pretty often- that in itself proves that you care about him and put yourself out for him."

"Maybe I'm not putting myself out," I persisted. "Maybe I'm a rebel who likes to sneak out and... and... and, I don't know, visit people? Maybe I sneak out for the fun of it? How do you know?"

"Call it an educated guess, dear. You hardly look rebellious. I can tell that both of you are very alike- introverted, protective, unlikely to trust very easily. Friendship will probably be good for him. God knows, he needs a bit of positivity in his life."

"Oh, he so does," I agreed soberly, only realizing too late that this comment would spark her interest.

Johanna paused for a moment, watching the road, and then: "What do you know about the Frollos?" she asked bluntly, watching me as closely as she could while driving.

I mentally slapped myself for letting such a little thing slip and tried to think of a convincing answer. I couldn't tell her what I knew, could I? How did I know what she would do with the information? "Um, not a lot. Quasi doesn't talk much."

"But somehow you know that he badly needs a friend and that his home life isn't the greatest. And you're awfully protective of him for someone doesn't know a lot about him."

I said nothing.

Johanna slowed as she approached the entry to Madison Heights and pulled onto the curb, then reached inside her handbag next to her feet and pulled out a business card. "Before you leave, I just want to say something. I am very close to the family, both personally and professionally. I suspect something not quite right going on but my questions go unanswered. I also suspect you know more than your are letting on. I only want the best for the boy, and I think you may be able to help. Please know that you can trust me with anything to you chose to tell me. Take my card and please email me when you can."

I took the card and tucked it into my pocket, then grabbed my skateboard and slid out of the car. "I'll do that. Thanks for the ride. And also, letting me get away."

Johanna nodded and smiled tightly. "I wouldn't have let you get caught, that's for sure. Talk to you later."

I waved as she drove away, and then I ran.

It turned out I didn't have to rush. Grandad had dropped by the heath food shop and got sidetracked, so by the time he pulled up I had already been waiting for ten minutes. He suspected nothing, and we spent the car ride home in relative silence.

When I got home I opened my computer and brought up my email. I don't think I knew whether I was actually going to send anything, but I started writing just the same. If anything, it was a way to organize my thoughts.

"Dear Ms du Moulin;

I am gong to tell you something that may or may not shock you. Please, don't react, don't do anything, and please read to the end..."

Another shortish one this time, sorry. Hopefully the next chapter will be longer. Some pretty interesting things are gonna happen soon. You could say meeting Johanna du Moulin is the beginning of the end.

Oh, by the way, do any of the Hugo-fans somewhere out there recognize the woman's name? No? Not even slightly familiar? Perhaps this will clear it up: Jehan Frollo du Moulin. Claude's little idiot of a brother. Yeah, so I decided to put him in here. As a her.

I didn't know I was going to do this until just recently, but I think I've reversed the characters a bit. Claude is now the aggressive drinker and Jehan/Johanna is the concerned, serious one. Don't know how that happened. Hope it works out.

Anyway, reviews are very welcome as usual. Please tell me what you thought :)