So I've been on holidays for about a month, with very little internet access. Sorry about that. Hopefully you guys haven't lost interest by now.

I'd like to thank Leslie The Sorceress, rapunzel101, Doctor Pot8osoup, Antikreativ (guest), Reviewer (guest), AmaryllisBloom and Darkfire333 for your encouraging reviews. Seriously guys, I don't know what I'd do without your supportive comments and suggestions. I love you all so much :)

And now, on with the story!

I've never gone with the wind
Just let it flow
Let it take me where it wants to go
Till you open the door
There's so much more
I've never seen it before
I was trying to fly
But I couldn't find wings
Then you came along
And you changed everything

You lift my feet off the ground
Spin me around
You make me crazier, crazier
Feels like I'm falling and I
I'm lost in your eyes
You make me crazier,
Crazier, crazier...

Crazier- Taylor Swift

I hesitated outside the art room, one hand resting on the doorknob and the other loosely swinging the key on its chain. It was nearly the end of lunch and I didn't know whether Quasi was ready to talk yet. Should I bother going in? Or should I leave it and wait until later? Would he even tell me what was going on if I asked? I suppose there's only one way to find out. I bit my lip and turned the key in the lock, and cracked the door open a little bit.

Through the narrow shafts of sunlight that cut across the room and highlighted the dustmotes that floated silently in the air, I could see that Quasi was sitting where I left him, reading one of the letters. Paper, photos and what looked like money were scattered over the desk. He was slouched over the desk, a hand over his mouth and the other holding the letter close to his face, his eyes devouring the words as if they were food. I felt my stomach twist as I saw the look on his face- so focused, so intense, as if he would die if I interrupted him now. I quickly tiptoed backwards and closed the door with a quiet 'click'- deciding that, for once, I would actually respect his privacy and leave him alone- and stood there, motionless except for the key that swung like a pendulum from my fingers as I wondered what to do now.

I had to keep myself occupied somehow, to avoid thinking too hard about certain questions my friends had raised. A distraction shouldn't be too hard to find, I thought to myself. I am a great procrastinator, after all. One of the best.

But there really was nothing to do. I didn't want to go all the way back down the oval to the girls. I didn't want to talk to anybody. And my laptop... I looked around for my bag, only to realize that it was still inside the room in front of me. I looked around the empty hall, as if there might be someone around to advise me, and then shrugged. I would have to go in there in a little while anyway. Why not now? I could sneak in, grab my stuff, and sneak out again. No harm done.

I opened the door again and walked over to my seat, packing up my stuff as noiselessly as I could. A sound from Quasi distracted me, however, and I looked over at him curiously. He appeared to have reached the end of the letter, which seemed to confuse him; it took a few moments of flipping the paper from one side to the other and peering inside the envelope for him to realize that it was really finished. Once he had, he did something that made me stare- he carefully folded the letter, lightly kissed it, and gently slid it back in its envelope. Then he did the same to the other letters- fold, kiss, slide it into the same envelope as the other one. The photos were put in one envelope, the money in the last one, but I wasn't paying attention to those. I was too busy wondering just how important those letters were that they received a kiss, of all things. What exactly had I found? Something special, evidently, to inspire that much fondness. And then I was seeing that feather-light kiss on a cheek instead of paper, and realized I had forgotten to breathe.

I shook my head to clear it, took a few deep breaths to remind my lungs how to work again, and finished putting my guitar away, feeling heat creep up my face. I felt stupid, getting worked up over someone kissing an object. It wasn't as if it was meant to be romantic. I probably wasn't even supposed to see it. It was just the sweetness of the moment and the ideas that my friends had put in my head, I decided. That was all. Even as I thought it I could hear Em's knowing voice in my head. "You just keep telling yourself that, girl," she said, the voice kind of echoey but not losing any of her characteristic sarcasm. "Just keep telling yourself that."

My stuff packed away, I straightened up and looked over at Quasi, who was now staring down at the envelopes on the desk with a troubled but vacant look. Whatever he was thinking about, it seemed to be turning quite a few cogs in that brain of his. Checking my watch, I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped over to the table. "Hey Kaz, you OK?"

"What?" He snapped out of his daze at the sound of my voice, giving me a fleeting glance before quickly gathering up the envelopes and holding them protectively to his chest. "Oh, I'm fine. Just f-fine."

"You're a terrible liar." Moved by some strange sentimentality, I leaned down and wrapped my arms around him, feeling him stiffen at my unexpected affection but choosing not to dwell on it. "Its perfectly ok to not be ok, you know," I murmured to him. "Just don't push me away."

For a moment, I thought he was going to say something, but instead he leaned back a little so that we were cheek to cheek, sharing each others warmth and space and staring down at the envelope with 'Quasimodo' written in simple cursive on the front. My curiosity about what was inside those letters was gnawing at my insides, but I couldn't ask to read them. No way. I had forced enough secrets out of this boy already, I couldn't demand him to share this private thing with me as well. So I kept silent and contented myself with knowing that I could be of some comfort to my friend when he needed it.

Of course, as what always seemed to happen, the ringing of the bell interrupted the moment and I pulled away quickly, startled and embarrassed. "We sh-should get to class," I stammered, fiddling with my bag strap as I started to back away, avoiding his eyes. My heart was suddenly hammering in my chest like it wanted to escape and I wondering if the heat spreading up my neck was visible to him.

Quasi nodded, not seeming to notice my current heart attack, and started to sweep the envelopes into his bag, only to pause and look up at me with indecision. Then, making up his mind, he pulled out the first one and held it out to me. "Here. Y-you can read them if you w-want."

Though I was secretly thrilled, I knew I couldn't just accept them like that. "But they're yours. They're special to you, I can't read something private of yours."

"Yes you can." He smiled that strangely beautiful smile and my heart betrayed me by turning into a hummingbird. "I want you to."

I reached for them, trying not to show how excited I actually was. "Why?"

"Because you're my f-friend."

"Oh," was all I could say. Inside I was beaming. We had gone from me begging to know what was going on to him voluntarily sharing personal information with me. I won't lie- it made me feel special. But time was ticking, the sounds of lunchtime were all but faded, and we had to go. I slipped the envelope in my bag and smiled back at him. "Well, thanks. I'll read them. Who are they from?"

"My m-mother."

There wasn't time to refect on that properly, but now I certainly felt burdened with great privilege. "Really? I'll be careful then."

"Good." He stood up, and we headed out to our respective classes.

I didn't read the letters straight away, though. I wanted to wait for the right time, which would probably be alone, at home, so that I could absorb them properly. So though I was dying to find out what was inside, I kept them in the bottom of my bag, out of reach, and distracted myself by thinking about the concert.

I was actually starting to think that a part in it was possible, but I didn't want to do it alone. Playing and singing in front of the whole school, plus parents and interested parties? Just the thought made me nervous. My voice sounded better singing with someone else, anyway. Singing with Quasi. We sounded pretty good together now. I wondered if he would consider doing the concert with me. Of course Frollo wouldn't let him go, and he probably didn't want to go up on the stage where he was so humiliated last time, but if I could somehow make sure everything went well...

At the end of the day, I managed to catch Quasi as he was leaving and decided to ask him then and there.

His response was a horrified "WHAT?!"

"OK, just hear me out," I said quickly. "We're both really good now and we sound great singing together. I think it would be a great experience, and it would show everyone that we're OK, we've bounced back from all the bullying and we won't be messed with. I would love to do it, but I don't want to do it alone."

He shook his head, looking most distressed. "I-I-I can't go up on that s-stage again! And you kn-know I wouldn't be able t-to come! He wouldn't let me!"

"What if I promised you that nothing would go wrong? What if I could sneak you out without Frollo ever finding out and make sure that everything would go well on the stage? If I could do that, would you do it? Would you trust me?"

"I-I... suppose... But can you do that?"

"Yes." Although it was only an idea and I wasn't confident that I could pull it off, I had to sound positive. This was one of things that didn't make sense, but I just had to do it. "Yes, think I can." He didn't look convinced, so I decided to leave it for now but keep him thinking. "Just think about it, OK? I really think it would be good for us."

"I will. I-I think about it."

I smiled and impulsively kissed him on the cheek, only just realizing afterwards what I had done. Mortified, I muttered a hurried 'see-ya' and left, not waiting to see his reaction.

At home, I was berating myself for my stupidity. I threw my bag in a corner of the room and fell backwards onto the bed, hands over my face as I thought about that kiss.

What is the matter with you? Like we need anything to get get any more confusing than it already is! We already have awkward conversations and my friends getting me to second-guess my feelings, and now I decide to add a kiss too?

I groaned and pulled myself up, staring at my bag. I needed a distraction. I knew my way of handling things was wrong, that I needed to face my questions instead of hiding from them, but I couldn't, not yet. Putting it off wouldn't help, but right now I didn't feel ready to address the matter and besides, now I had a good reason to put it off. I scrambled over to my bag and dug through it, looking for the envelope, and pulled it out triumphantly. Then I scrambled back to the bed, got comfortable, and jumped straight into reading the letters.

My dear Quasimodo,

I'm not quite sure how to start this off. I had it all worked out in my head, what I was going to write in the first of many letters to you, my son, but when I put pen to paper all my beautiful words and eloquent speeches vanish from my mind. I only know one thing- that this was to be my gift to you, to remind you how much I love and cherish you, for you to read when you're older and can understand the world around you. Not too well though, I hope. I cannot wish that upon you, my dear child, not when the world around us so narrow minded and cruel. And especially when they seem so set on pointing out your differences.

You are only a baby, but already I can see the rest of the world turning on us like we are somehow lower than the rest of them. It is hard to understand human nature sometimes. We rally for equality but refuse to acknowledge beautiful children like you as the same as the others.

Of course I am not blind to the facts, but I refuse to think of you as an embarrassment that must be concealed. How could I, as your mother, betray you like that? You, who are innocent and have done nothing to deserve you treatment except be born the way you are?

It is very fortunate that we have another to take our side. Claude has been a godsend to me. I don't know how I would've survived this long without him. I hope you never have to know the pain I have been through. I hope you learn freedom and strength and things I never got a chance to learn. I am so grateful that I have a chance to teach you, to build up your spirit before everyone else tries to crush it. No- I am grateful for you, my son. You have given me something to live for again. Nothing can compare to the happiness I feel when I hold you in my arms and know that we are part of each other, that we share the same blood and lifeforce, that I have a responsibility to another human being to keep you alive and happy. That you are mine, that you came from me. The moon danced with the stars the night you were born, my love. You changed my life in ways I never thought possible, and I want you to know that I love you with all my heart.

I want these letters to be something you cherish when you are forced into the dark, cruel world; something to remind you how much I love you when I'm not there, and to help you to keep going when the road seems too rocky for you to cross.

Keep these words imprinted on your heart, so that I am always with you even when I'm not.

With all my love,

Mother.

Dear beautiful boy,

I love you best when you are asleep and better still when you are awake. You look at me with eyes full of wonder, eyes big and green and sparkling with merriment. You are such a happy baby, always. I hope that never changes.

Of course, you are not quite a baby anymore- you must be at least 2 years old, big and bouncy and ready to take on the world. You crawl and try to speak, your garbled words sounding more polished everyday. I love it when you try to sing with me. Even if you can't talk yet, I can tell you're going to have a beautiful voice. You've started grabbing at my guitar strings, so I've been teaching you to play. I sit you in my lap and hold your fingers on the strings, strumming out chords, and you laugh in delight. I love your laugh. It tinkles like little bells and fills me with such joy. You and Claude are everything to me, my family.

I suppose I have things to apologize for. Your name, for starters. I'm not an educated woman, and when Claude suggested you be named 'Quasimodo' I agreed because I thought it was an interesting name. Such a unique child deserves a better name than James or Harry. And what would I know of foreign languages? It wasn't until recently that I found out the meaning of your name.

I don't know what Claude was thinking. Surely he didn't know the meaning, did he? How could he do such a cruel thing? As if life won't be difficult enough for you when you get older. I intend to spare you from it as much as possible, but I won't be able to shield you forever. I suppose all I can do is show you that you're loved and teach you that you are not inferior, despite what the world tries to tell you.

I leave you now with all my love,

Mother.

My child,

It has been a long time since I wrote your last letter. Life seems to want to get in the way of the simpler things, and time refuses to slow down and give me some breathing space. I can't believe its already been 3 years since you came into the world. What a day that was. The day I held you in my arms for the first time, I realized I had a reason to live again. You and Claude are the only things that kept me in this world when I thought there was nothing left for me. That's the reason I watch you every waking moment- because one day I fear I will wake up and find that you were just a sweet dream to keep me going. I love to watch you toddle around the house, reaching for things and speaking with those soft, lisping words. You are so eager to learn and discover and be, and I can't help but learn and discover with you. It's like I'm seeing everything all over again. And that's when I think that everything in my life has lead up to you. At least this is what I remind myself when things get too hard- that I have to keep going, for you, because you saved me.

And things are getting hard. I thought I was finally somewhere I could be safe and secure, but it seems that I'm not destined for an easy life. I fear for your safety every day that we stay here, but leaving isn't an option. The fact is that we could not live for long without Claude's support, though even that is becoming something of a joke. Whether we stay or go, it seems we are doomed.

But don't fret, my child. I will find a way for us to one day live in peace. Until then we must be strong. I'm already making plans-

And that was where the last letter abruptly ended. I blinked, confused, and turned it over, hoping for some closure, but there was nothing. Just half a sentence that ended right when it was getting interesting. Frustrated, I tossed the letters away and lay back on the bed, deep in thought.

So, Frollo actually used to be nice for a little while. And Quasi's mother adored her son. I frowned, remembering something he had told me once- that apparently his mother ran away when he was young and died in a car accident. Ran away. But the letters she wrote all those years ago... They were so intimate, so loving. He had been everything to her. So how could she run away and leave him with his monster of a father, who by the third letter had obviously started down the path of abuse already? There was no way she would ever have done that. So what happened?

I sighed and sat up again, and put then letters away before I forgot where they were and they got lost. This was not my story, and I wouldn't get the answers to my questions tonight. Better to work it out with Quasi tomorrow. What I can think about, however, is how on earth am I going to pull off this concert thing?

Now this was going to be a challenge. Of course it was definitely possible to sneak him out of the house that night, but could I get him back before Frollo found out? Probably not. And Frollo would probably half kill him for going out. So how could I avoid that? Perhaps this whole idea is stupid and I should forget it. Unless... What if Frollo wasn't there? Now there was a thought. If he wasn't there, he would never know. But he was usually home in the afternoons, so how would I get him away? And how would I do it in a way that wouldn't get us all a hiding?

Suddenly, like a lightening bolt to the head, I was struck with an idea. Or a fragment of one.

I had evidence of Frollo's brutality on my tablet. Evidence that Johanna du Moulin needed to finally get her brother convicted. I had been a terrible friend by not sending it to her yet, dragging out Quasi's ordeal more than was necessary. But I had an idea of how these things worked, and if Johanna got her evidence now, she would waste no time in getting Frollo dragged off and Quasi sent somewhere else. He would become a foster child, passed on to the closest living relative who probably lived on the other side of Australia. All this would happen very quickly, with no time for goodbyes or negotiations and definitely no time for concerts. It was a disgustingly selfish reason to withhold the evidence that could end his suffering, but for some reason I had to do this. We had to go up on that stage and song a song together, to show everyone how strong we were despite their persecution. And I couldn't just send him away like that. I couldn't.

BUT...

What if I kept it only until the day of the concert? What if Frollo was taken away right before or after we left, with no chance to find out about the event? We could do the concert and then they could take Quasi to wherever they wanted. It would be our last thing we did together before he had to go. A salute to our friendship.

Just then, I was called to dinner, and buoyed up by my brilliant idea, I joined everyone at the table, preoccupied with wondering how exactly I was going to pull this thing off...

I was going to write more, but I think I'll leave it there. Review and tell me what you think. And I'm open to suggestions, too. I don't know everything, so I'm happy to hear you guys' ideas for what I should write next.

Until next time.