OK, this chapter has been a while in the making. I was actually writing it on my tablet, which broke, so I had to wait to get it fixed before I could finish. Then I started another story, which you should totally go check out, plus I'm doing volunteer work and looking for a job, so my life is quite hectic at the moment. But anyway, I love writing this story and hope you like reading it :)

Special thanks to rapunzel101, ChibiFelicia and Mrs. Gold for your lovely comments.

My hands,
Your hands
Tied up
Like two ships.

Drifting
Weightless.
Waves try to break it.
I'd do anything to save it.
Why is it so hard to say it?

My heart,
Your heart
Sit tight like book ends.

Pages
Between us
Written with no end.
So many words we're not saying.
Don't wanna wait 'til it's gone.
You make me strong.

I'm sorry if I say, "I need you."
But I don't care,
I'm not scared of love.
'Cause when I'm not with you I'm weaker.
Is that so wrong?
Is it so wrong
That you make me strong?

Strong- One Direction

"Miss Basso!" I called, walking as quickly as I dared after the music teacher. It was morning, the bell had just rung, and I was definitely going to be late for maths class, but there was something I had to ask my favorite teacher first. "Miss Basso!"

The teacher stopped suddenly and turned around, and I nearly crashed into her, only just managing to stop. "Michigan! Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"I had to ask you something." I paused, trying to catch my breath, and continued. "How long are the concert spots open for?"

"I'll be accepting entries until the last Wednesday of school, providing that there are still some spots open by then. So that's two-and-a-half weeks." She frowned, tapping her pen on her folder. "But if you want in, why not enter now?"

"Oh, it's just Quasimodo. I'm trying to convince him to be in it with me."

She smiled knowingly before straightening out her expression into something more professional. "Well, if he decides to be involved, tell him you both need to audition for me first. I need to know what song you'll be playing and whether you're any good."

"Oh." I wondered if he would be okay with that. Miss Basso could be an intimidating presence despite her lack of height, and I didn't want him chickening out at the last minute. An audience full of people could be tuned out, but one scary teacher might be his undoing. "I'll tell him."

The teacher must've seen my hesitation, because like the awesome person she was, she immediately came to the rescue with an alternative. "Or you could always record the song and give it to me like that if he's feeling shy." Her eyes crinkled at the edges. "Which he always is, right?"

I nodded, smiling. "Pretty much. That should be perfect. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now you really should get to class."

I nodded and left quickly, and she continued on her way.

Three classes later I was unlocking the door to our 'sanctuary' and rifling through my bag for the letters he had given me.

"So I talked to Miss Basso and she says she'd like an audition from you for the concert," I casually mentioned to Quasi as he got out his lunch and his guitar.

His reaction to my words was totally predictable- wide eyes, fearful expression, fumbling hands. "An audition?"

"Yeah, just a little performance, nothing to worry about. She's gotta make sure the concert actually has people with talent in it." I took out the letters and handed them over. "These are yours. I read them last night. They're beautiful."

"Y-yes, b-but..." Now he looked confused- still protesting about the audition and wanting to talk about his mum at the same time would do that. "I c-can't audition-"

"Sure you can." I don't know why I was holding out on telling him the easy way out. I guess I found it amusing, how scared he was of things. You're so mean, I chastised myself, and decided to tell him. "But she said we can record it and send it in if you want."

He look only a tiny bit relieved. "Oh... Th-that's good, I guess."

"You guess?" I unzipped my guitar case and balanced my guitar on my knees, starting to tune it up. "Do I sense a 'but' coming up?"

"I-It's just..." He tapped his fingers on his instrument, searching for the right words. "I don't know, it's kind of..."

"Scary?"

"Yeah."

I smiled. "Don't be scared. I'll be with you every step of the way."

He met my eyes searchingly. "I know you will. But how are we going to do it?"

I considered telling him the whole plan, but realized that if he knew something was going to happen to his father, he might accidentally give the game away, or even refuse to go through with it. He was too loyal, that boy. Though it was admittedly a quality I admired in him, it would not serve him well in this instance. So I answered him with a question of my own. "How did you get here last time? I talked to your dad once when dropping off your homework and he said that he forbade you to go. What did you do?"

"I snuck out," he answered simply.

"Well obviously. But tell me the details. What happened exactly?"

Quasi leaned back, his eyes fixed on a spot on the dusty old carpet. He looked a bit distant, which was not surprising considering that I was asking him to bring up memories from an night he would probably rather forget. "I told him that I had been invited to the dance and asked if I could go. He said no and told me that he was protecting me. He told me that no one could possibly want to be my friend and that they wanted to use me for something. I thought he was wrong. For the first time I felt like I had been accepted for who I was. I..." Here he glanced at me briefly before looking away again. "I-I liked Esme. I thought she liked me too. And I wanted to believe it so much that I ignored my better judgment and decided to defy him. So that night I waited until he went out again and then I left. Esme and a friend of hers picked me up at the bus station. And rest is history."

How well I knew it. That 'history' had been recorded and put on YouTube for the whole world to see.

"I guess he was right..." he continued bitterly, but I stopped him before he could go any further.

"Quasi, stop it. He may have been right about Esme, but not anything else. You have friends, you have talent, and by the sound of those letters, your mother loved you. So don't let one bad experience rule your actions, OK?" I grinned. "Cuz there's no way I'm letting you off that easy."

He looked at his bag, where his beloved letters rested, and I knew exactly what he was thinking about. "Y-you know, I think I almost believe that now."

"Good, I hope so." I paused, wondering if I was crossing into forbidden territory. But then he had let me read the letters, so I suppose this was no different. "Speaking of, can I just ask, what was your mum like?"

He smiled, his whole face lighting up, and I felt that little skip of the heart that meant I was being an idiot again. "She was... musical. Always playing, always singing. I d-don't remember what she looked like, but I know that she was beautiful." The happy expression quickly turned to sadness. "I was too young to remember much else. She left when I was about three- j-just after the last letter was written, I guess."

"She didn't really leave, though, did she?" I frowned. "Her letters were so loving. You were everything to her. She couldn't have just left like that, surely?"

"I don't know." Quasi sighed dejectedly. "I was always told that she hated me. Apparently I was an 'unhappy accident' and a 'great burden to both of them'. Finally she couldn't bear to look at me anymore and left me with my father. Depending on how drunk he is when he tells the story, she either got into a terrible accident on the motorway or deliberately drove into a tree. Either way, she died because of me."

Wow... talk about depressing... "But that's obviously not true. I mean, you remember her as a happy person, and she states her love for you numerous times in her letters. In fact she was making plans to get out before she died, because by then he was already abusing both of you. She would not have just left you there with him. Face it, Kaz- your father has been lying to you."

He stared down at the floor, troubled. "Then what happened?" he whispered, more to himself than to me.

"I'll ask Johanna. She should know." I plucked a few strings on my guitar, drawing both our minds back to the original subject. "Wow, OK, got a bit offtrack there. We need to choose a song. Any ideas?"

He shook his head, still preoccupied, and I stopped planning for a moment and looked at him properly for the first time in a while. He was tired- we both we re, but him especially. We needed a break. The audition could wait a few more days.

I leaned my instrument against the desk and dug my key out of my bag again. "Come on, you. Let's get out of here."

"What? Where are we going?"

"Outside. We've both been inside for too long."

I tugged lightly on his sleeve on my way to the door, which seemed to wake him up a bit, and he placed his guitar carefully next to mine and followed me out.

I had a vague idea of what I wanted to do, but it wasn't until we were out in the sun in view of the basketball courts that I made a decision. With a grin, I motioned for him to follow me and we headed to the sports block, which was basically just a bunch of sheds with equipment in them. He realized what I was doing when I tried to open the doors with my key- which obviously didn't work, but it was worth a try.

"Y-you're not going to break in, are you?" he asked anxiously as I circled the sheds, eyeing the windows.

"What, me? Never!" I laughed dryly as I circled the shed with the balls in it. "I'm not going to break anything!"

"Oh dear..."

For some reason I found those two words adorable and had to restrain myself from telling him so. It must've been the sunlight and fresh air affecting me, because suddenly I felt like doing the most stupid things. One such thing was levering open one of the seldom-used windows and wriggling in to grab a basketball from the basket underneath. I managed to do it quite easily, but when I tried to wriggle back, I found I was stuck.

"Oh, crap..." I stopped struggling for a moment to catch my breath, wondering how I looked from the other side, hanging from my waist in a window. Chances were it probably wasn't a very pretty sight. With a grunt, I worked the basketball under one arm and stretched the other one out behind me. "Hey Kaz, a little help here!"

I felt him grab my hand and pull, and I wriggled backwards until I was in the right position to be yanked out. Well, I say yanked. More like flew out. I was pulled out so forcefully that I would've face-planted the nearby trees if Quasi hadn't still been holding my hand. As it was he still need to hold it to stop me from keeling over from the abruptness of it.

He realized what he had done as I was catching my breath and nearly let go of me. "Oh g-god, I'm s-sorry!" he stammered, pulling me quickly to my feet and backing away.

I swept my hair out of my face and held up the ball, wondering how disheveled I actually looked. "Hey, don't sweat it. We got the ball, didn't we?"

When he saw that I wasn't the least bit perturbed by my rough exit from the window, he relaxed, and I tossed him the ball and shut the window. Then I motioned for him to follow me and headed for the courts.

I spent the rest of lunchtime trying to teach him to shoot hoops, which was surprisingly hard, considering he seemed to be so good at everything else. By the end of it I figured he would probably be better at football, and I left the ball back in the art room.

During music that day, Quasi had another surprise for me. Instead of researching a classical musician for our last assignment of the year like I was supposed to, I was writing an email to Johanna about the recent developments and the things we had learned about Quasi's mother. The big question I wanted answered was this: if she had loved her son as much as her letters showed, why did she leave? Why not take him with her? Surely Johanna would know.

Halfway into the email, an envelope- the second one- was slid over to my desk and left there. I eagerly snatched it up and pulled out the photos that had accompanied the letters, sending a grateful smile to Quasi as I did so. I had really wanted to see these photos. I guess goods things did come those who waited.

The first one was a woman with a baby. The baby I glossed over, knowing who it was immediately. No-one could've been an uglier baby than Quasimodo. But I didn't dwell on him, because it was the woman I was drawn to. Eyes closed, dull brown hair falling over her face, and holding the baby close to her like it was her life force. Her face, from what I could see of it, was normal- no sign of her son's deformities anywhere. Her skin was clear, features properly proportioned, and nothing showed me that she might have any back problems, though that could be easily hidden, I guess.

The second photo showed two women, the mother and what looked like a younger version of Johanna. So they had been friends, then. They had their arms around each other and were smiling widely at the camera, posing in front of the Sydney Opera House. Gulls swooped in the background and the breeze ruffled their hair. It was such a wholesome, fun scene that I couldn't help smiling at it.

The next photo was just her and a guitar. She was still smiling, her teeth slightly crooked, and now I could see how beautiful she really was. Her hair, instead of being dull like the first picture, was dark and curly, flowing over her shoulders in waves, with little bits of brightly colored thread woven into it. Her eyes were a piercing green, as brilliant as emeralds, and her skin was tanned and smooth with freckles dusting her cheeks and shoulders. She was beautiful, and I wondered how such a gorgeous person could've given birth to... well, I couldn't pretend to be ignorant of Quasi's unfortunate appearance. But he certainly got her eyes. That was the only resemblance I could see between them- their brilliant green eyes.

The next few photos showed her holding Quasi, teaching him how to walk, feeding him, and posing with him behind her guitar. And each one showed a change in her- I noticed that she was getting progressively less smiley, her eyes less bright, and her expression more tired. Though she was still beautiful, it was a kind of delicate, fragile beauty, like she was stretched thin and about to snap. It was sad to see her progression from happy, bubbly mother to a fragile shell of herself. No prizes for guessing who made that happen.

I handed the photos back as soon as I had looked at them- though I liked sharing Quasi's history with him, it was kind of bittersweet. He took them carefully, holding them with such care, as if they were made of glass instead of waxed paper. I watched him pull out a small leatherbound journal from his bag and slide the envelope in with the other ones, and my curiosity was immediately piqued. Ohh, a journal! That would be an interesting read...

No. Letters and photos were one things, but a journal was another. That was definitely private. Not that there were many secrets between us now, but still.

I didn't completely forget about the journal, but I did push it away to an obscure corner of my mind for a later date so that i could focus on the here and now.. Quasi wasn't going to say anything else, so i went back to my email, adding in a few questions prompted by the photos. Then I sent it and started on my neglected assignment.

Walking to our lockers before the last class of the day, I suggested that we skip it and go and record our song before anything else. He agreed with only minimal hesitation, and i reflected on the fact that before we became friends, he would never had agreed so easily to skip class. My bad influence was definitely rubbing off on him.

So we took advantage of the rushing crowds of teenagers that were on their way to their respective classes and disappeared out one of the side doors before any teachers could catch us.

"So what should we sing?" I asked as I got my recording program ready on my laptop. "I liked Babe. That one was beautiful."

Quasi plucked his guitar strings thoughtfully. "A-aren't we both singing?"

"Yeah. But we could change it up a bit, make it a duet."

"Maybe. Or perhaps the last one we did... The real duet?"

"Everything Has Changed?"

"Yeah, that one. I-I liked that one." He ducked his head, as if he was ashamed or embarrassed. "Y-you sang... um... well."

"Well? Really?" I smirked. "Is that the best you can do?"

"Nice. You sang nice." His face was the colour of his hair by this time. "It... sounded good."

"Wow, don't sound too enthusiastic, you might wear yourself out."

He looked at me helplessly, not knowing what to say next, and fidgited nervously with his guitar strings, and us much as I was actually enjoying this, I decided to take pity on him and help him out a bit.

"It's ok, Kaz, I know what you're trying to say. Thank you." I smiled at him and he ducked his head again. "You sounded good too. I think that's the right song. Do you remember how to play it?"

He nodded.

"Ok, well let's do a practice one first. You ready?"

He nodded again, and we started to play. Turned out I had forgetten a lot of the chords, so the first ten minutes was just him showing me how to play again and me copying him. When i had gotten the hang of it, we played it together, just humming the words, and decided we were ready.

So I set the program to record and we played with gusto. Though I had to lean into the microphone spot for it to actually pick up my voice, the song went off without a hitch, and after a little while i found my fingers moving on automatic. Instead of thinking about my playing, I was watching Quasi, the way his fingers held the strings and he closed his eyes and relaxed into the music and his voice just kind of flew around the room when he sang. The way music came naturally to him. And while I was watching him, I suppose it was coming naturally to me as well.

When we got to the bridge, he opened his eyes and held my gaze, and I smiled as our voices meshed together perfectly.

"Come back and tell me why

I'm feeling like I've missed you all this time...

Meet me there tonight,

and let me know that it's not all in my mind..."

As the song continued, we just kept watching each other, bobbing a little to the tune and grinning like idiots. And when we finished, we kept smiling, because we knew we had just made something special.

After saving the file and transferring it to my USB, we sat there waiting for the bell to ring and just talked. About my family, and how he would've liked to to have a sibling or two, and our hopes and wishes and plans for the future. Quasi, i found out, not only loved drawing but wood carving as well, and wanted to open up some kind of craft shop one day. He also wanted to try busking, but was way too self conscious.

"I think I'd like to travel," I commented dreamily, tracing circles on my laptop lid. "Places like Paris and Amsterdam and Venice, with lots of rich history and art and old buildings and awesome food. Maybe New York and Tokyo, too. All the fun places. And i want to write. Maybe fiction, maybe travel blogs, maybe fashion, I don't know. Just give me something with words."

"You should try."

"So should you," I returned with a smile. "I bet you'd be a hit in the city."

He shook his head. "I couldn't."

"You totally could. People would love you. Not everyone focuses on the outside, you know."

"But most do." He shrugged, suddenly very interested in his hands. "Besides, you'd be more of a hit than me."

"Me? No. You're way better."

"But you have the voice and the..." he paused and gestured in my general direction. "The-the... looks."

"The looks? Wow, two compliments in one day. You're on a roll today." I said this teasing, but truthfully i was flattered.

"Y-yes, well..." He seemed to be lost for words, face slowly turning red again.

We chatted for a while longer, until the bell rang and i realized i had one more thing to do before i went home. So we grabbed our stuff and ran, and i let him follow me to the school library, where i returned a book and picked up about half a dozen more. Quasi offered to help me, but it wasn't until i nearly dropped my laptop trying to carry everything at once that i decided to let him. I was used to carrying all my own stuff, but it wouldn't kill me to ask for help every now and then. So I handed him most of the books without a word and we continued to our lockers.

"So, I'll drop off the USB tomorrow, and we should hear about our spot pretty soon." I pulled out my bag and stuffed everything in, slammed the door and waited patiently for him to unlock his own locker. "Once we know for sure, I'll figure out how to get you there without being caught. I already have some ideas, so you don't have to worry. Everything is going to work out fine." I glared at the crowds of students around me as someone accidentally jostled me into the lockers. "Hey man, how about watching where you're going?"

"Bite me!" came the rude reply as the random person moved away, and Quasi had to restrain me from going after them.

"Hey, calm down."

"I'm calm." I took a deep breath and smiled at him. "Sorry, I'm just a bit tightly strung at the moment." I didn't tell him why- that it was because of the pressure I was feeling to get everything right and help him out and try not to think about my own feelings while I did it. I didn't want him to feel guilty, or have him he owed me. And I sure as hell didn't want to make things awkward by taking about feelings that not even I was sure about. So I held my tongue and instead let him walk me to the school gate, wondering what the next stage in my plan was going to be.

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