Hiya readers! How are you all? Good I hope?

I was originally hoping to post this at christmas as a little present to you all, but that didn't happen. Neither did posting at New Years. So I'd like to wish you all a belated Happy Holidays and Happy New Year and I hope this chapter will make up for my slackness :)

Ok, so last chapter Mich looked at photos of Quasi's mum, they played basketball, and they recorded their audition song. This chapter, plans are made, we learn more about Quasi's mum, and Mich learns something about Quasi that makes her look at him differently.

Also, ANGST.

Also, I've finally written the scene I wanted to write. It didn't happen the way I thought it would, but it's pretty exciting. Like, a key part of the story that everyone was waiting for. It's happening, people. I'm actually very happy now :)

Ok, no more boring notes, lets get on with it.

I wanna chase the shadows from your eyes
Because I understand
I wanna shake the tea-leaves in your cup
Until you see the plan
And when you're stranded on your desert isle
I'll be the footprints in your sand
I wanna mean something to you
To mean something to you
I wanna mean something to you
'Cause you mean, you mean something to me
And when you're caught upon a stormy sea
I wanna light the lamp
I want you to see what you've given me
And who I really am
And it doesn't really matter
If I'm your lover or your friend
I wanna mean something to you

Mean Something To You- Jennifer Davids.

"So he can really sing?" Dez swung her clarinet case and nodded at my laptop, her skinny little nose wrinkled in disbelief. "That's really you and him?"

"Don't sound so surprised," I grumbled, looking behind me every few steps to make sure i didn't trip over. My laptop was balanced precariously on one outstretched arm, while the other held onto my bag strap. Walking backwards while carrying stuff isn't as easy as you would think, I can tell you now. "What, you think I recorded someone else to pass off as us? I'm serious about that concert spot, you know."

"You sound so beautiful together," Beck murmured, her eyes glazing over a little and a little smile stretching across her face. I had seen that look many times, particularly since she had gotten Tumblr. That was the 'OTP' look.

However, instead of getting frustrated and trying to talk her out of it, I simply smiled and nodded. "I know, right? I never thought I could sing that good."

"And you're handing that in today?" Emma toyed with her newly cut hair, twirling what used to be ombre ends around her dark finger. "You're serious about getting him up on that stage again?"

"Yep." I pulled out the USB and closed the lid as the music stopped and we reached the school gate. "I'm going to prove a point, Em. And make sweet music while doing it. I gotta go."

"Ok, see you later."

"Regroup in the art room, ok? We gotta talk strategy."

"Sure."

As my friends headed off, I tucked my computer under my arm and set off at a brisk jog towards the music classroom. I arrived out of breath and seriously wondering if i was going to have a heart attack, and had to take a moment outside the door to pull myself together. "Ugh, i really need to get back on that treadmill again..."

Once i was presentable again, i pushed the door open and peeked in; finding the room unoccupied except for Miss Basso at her desk stacking test papers, I knocked and walked inside. "Um, Miss Basso?"

She looked up and smiled, motioning for me to come closer. "Good morning! I take it that you have something for me?"

"I do indeed." I held out the USB stick. "The audition you requested- we recorded it yesterday."

"Ah, good." She took it and plugged it into her open computer. With a few clicks, the file was up and mine and Quasi's voices were playing for the second time that morning. Not know what to do with myself, i stood there awkwardly while she listened to the song, chin resting on her hands and gaze focused on a spot on her desk; until suddenly, about half way through, she stopped the recording and leaned back in her chair. "You're in."

"Wha...Already?" I spluttered, unprepared for such a definite answer.

"Yep. This is awesome. I have one recommendation, though- if you can, try to strengthen your voice a bit before the concert. Apart from that, everything's perfect. Well done. I'll leave you to pass the good news onto Quasimodo." She unplugged the USB and as she handed it over, added with an approving smile, "You make a beautiful couple, by the way. I'm very happy for you both."

Before I had a chance to deny her 'fantasy', the bell rung and she hurriedly went back to stacking papers, and I trailed out of the room with a faint 'thank you', still in shock from both the rapid acceptance and that comment, wondering if my face was a red as it felt.

The funny thing was, things like people assuming we were a couple no longer bothered me. It wasn't like I was ashamed, anyway. In my opinion, any girl would be lucky to have a boyfriend like him. So I didn't dwell on Miss Basso's assumptions; instead, i spent my time planning how to get Quasi to the concert. The girls would have to help, certainly. Dez was also part of the program, playing clarinet in the school orchestra, and we had already planned for her mum to take us girls in her car. Another passenger wouldn't be too much trouble, surely? Now that we had a confirmed position, i could ask.

And what of Frollo? How would we get Quasi out of the house without him knowing? Or, how would we make sure that his absence remained unnoticed?
That was where Johanna came in.

"Ah, speak of the devil," I whispered as an email appeared in my inbox. I was supposes to be making a PowerPoint presentation for English class, but this was bound to be more interesting.

I skimmed through the email, reading about Quasi's mother, a beautiful woman named Emerald who was a bit of a hippy and loved her son more than anything in the world. He had been an unfortunate accident, his father unknown, his poor mother destitute, vulnerable and with no memory of his conception. Frollo was not his real father, but his stepfather, described by Emerald as an angel in their time of need. He had taken in the pregnant woman from the streets of Sydney, cared for her, apparently fallen in love and married her within 6 months of meeting her. Johanna had gotten to know her very well, and they has become fast friends. Then Quasimodo was born, and that's when everything changed.

I had to stop reading for a moment to let this new information sink in. It seemed every time Johanna and I talked, she dropped some new bombshell on me, and this was no different.

Frollo, not Quasi's real dad.

Frollo, capable of love.

Frollo, an angel.

It didn't really compute that the cold, violent, rage-and-alcohol-filled man i had seen was once a caring, loving person. It was just impossible to believe.

I eagerly read on. Once the baby was born, Frollo changed. He withdrew into himself and refused to help Emerald care for the child. Told her it was her responsibility and she would have to deal with it. So she did. She threw all her energy into caring for Quasimodo and loved every minute of it.

And then Frollo began to drink. He spent most of their money on alcohol and stopped supporting them. He became abusive and angry, and eventually violent. Emerald put up with it for as long as she could, but when he tried to harm Quasi she snapped. She took the child and left, intending to flee to some relatives in Melbourne.

She never made it.

The car was found wrapped around a power pole, Quasi screaming in the back seat. He was only three-and-a-half. Frollo became his legal guardian. And the rest is history.

I was enthralled, and I had to remind myself that these were real people i was reading about. This was real life. And i was involved now.

Now were the important answers i was looking for. I had asked what the ultimate outcome would be if i gave her the proof she needed to convict Frollo, and her answer was reassuring. He would be immediately taken into custody and Quasi would be removed from his care and given to foster parents if no relatives could be found, and in the meantime, Johanna would look after him.

This was good, but it meant i would have to wait until the concert to hand over the video. There hadn't been any incidents in the past few weeks, but that didn't mean something couldn't happen within the next 2 weeks. I was potentially subjecting Quasi to more violence instead of removing him immediately, all for my own selfish motives. I felt terrible.

Not terrible enough to reconsider, though.

And that made me feel even worse.

It was a vicious circle, and I delt with it the only way I could- by forgetting about it.

When lunch came around and i had everyone sitting around the table, i had it all worked out in my head.

"So basically Dez's mum will pick you up around 7, and Johanna will handle your d- Frollo." Now that i knew the truth, i couldn't called Frollo his dad anymore. It just didn't feel right. "Don't worry bout being found out, cuz Johanna will take care of it. You just make sure you don't catch a cold between now and then, and we'll take care of the rest."

Dez was nodding, and the others shrugged. Quasi was fidgeting as usual, and i was glad i hadn't told him exactly what would be happening to his dad that night. He didn't need that worry on top of everything else he was going through.

"Are there any questions?" I asked after a short silence.

"Nope." Dez shook her head cheerfully. "Mum should be ok with that. He only lives a few blocks away anyway, right?"

I nodded. "Which means I'll need to come home with you, so i can help him sneak out."

"Sounds good."

"What do you think?" I asked Quasi.

He tried to hide the fact the he was practically wringing his hands with nervousness, but he wasn't succeeding very well. "Oh, I-I think its fine. It's a good p-plan. I-It's just, I-I'm just not sure i can do this..."

"Hey..." I put my hand over his, stilling their incessant movement. Out of the corner of my eye i saw Beck sit up and take notice, but i ignored her and focused on Quasi. "You're ok. Nothing bad is going to happen. You have us. Its ok to be nervous, but never doubt you can do something. You'll be great. Just keep telling yourself that and you'll be right." Silence followed my mini pep-talk, and I patted his hand and stood up. "So, i guess we're done here. Who's for basketball?"

Later on, when the bell had rung and we were collecting our bags, i told everyone to go on and bent down to tie my shoe. The girls left and Quasi was about to too, but at the last minute he came back and crouched next to me, fidgeting nervously once again.
"I just want to say thank you," he murmured, watching my hands fumble with the laces. "Thanks for everything. And also..." He paused, seeming to debate whether he should say the next thing. At length he shook his head . "No, never mind. Just... Thanks."

"You're welcome," I replied, a little baffled. "Are you ok?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine," he answered, a little quickly for my liking. He stood up, not meeting my eyes, and swung his bag onto his shoulder as he left. By the time I realized something had fallen out, he was gone, and I was late.

I picked it up on my way out and recognized it as the little leather journal i had seen the day before, the one he had put the photos in. I locked the door behind me and sprinted to the next building, hoping to catch him, but the hall was just about empty, so i went to class instead and, against my better judgment, opened the book.

Inside were the envelopes, which i put in my desk for safekeeping. The first few pages of the book were what looked like music theory, and then there were sketches, and then the serious stuff. Diary entries, years old, interspersed with poetry or lyrics, i couldn't decide which. It seemed he had been writing for a while, not much, but enough to fill most of the book. Some places, it was obvious that he was very young. One entry simply read, I wish i could go play cricket on the street with the other kids. Another read, The people next door have a lot of fun. Father says I'm too ugly and scary to play with them, so I'll just stay in here and watch them.

Further on in the book was a poem, written in childish handwriting but very well done.

Safe behind these windows and this house made of stone, I read softly to myself,
Gazing at the people down below me
All my life I watch them as I hide up here alone
Hungry for the stories they show me
All my life I memorize their faces
Knowing them as they will never know me
All my life I wonder how it feels to pass a day
Not above them
But part of them

And out there
Living in the sun
Give me one day out there
All I ask is one
To hold forever

Out there
Where they all live unaware
What I'd give
What I'd dare
Just to live one day out there.

For some reason this lonely little poem touched me so much that i found myself blinking away tears before moving on to the next page.

In other places of the book, where the dated diary entries became mire common than the poetry, his writing was so eloquent and so sad that i didn't want to put it down.

12/09/11
Sometimes my heart hurts so much that i think its going to explode. And on days like this i wish the sadness would stop consuming me. And while my heart us exploding, i wish i would too. Because its all too much and i'm much too young to be feeling nothing and everything all at once.

Then a page of faces, each one smiling, with green eyes and flowing hair, and an accompanying page of writing.

27/04/12
Lately i have been thinking of my mother even more than usual. I cant remember much about her, just her eyes ans her music, and all i really know is what father has told me about her. But cant really believe that she was as bad as he makes out.
Sometimes i can still hear her singing. I hear it in my dreams, where the only things i see are colors. The blues gone grey, and the browns gone grey and the yellow, a terrible amber. Everywhere, like rain. And sometimes there are people, so many people, who aren't her . And her absence is a gaping hole in my heart. I think i used to know what it feels like to be whole. But i never will now."

Then pages and pages of unrecognizable patterns, swirls and circles and lines and jagged edges. None of them were random, but deliberately drawn, pattern over pattern until the white of the paper could hardly be seen over the thick pen strokes. Had he got tired of writing? Maybe. But further along was an almost empty page, undated, with one sentence.

What did i do to deserve this?

I almost shut the book right there. For some reason that little question made me realize exactly what i was doing. This wasn't just a diary. This was his soul i was reading. What right did i have to peer into his soul?

It then occurred to me that i had asked myself this question every single time I found something or heard something or wanted to know anything about my friend. And when i thought about it, usually the result of my prying had good results. I needed to stop doubting my rights.

So i read on. I heard nothing of the lesson, instead pretending to take notes while reading the book on my lap. When the teacher came around i slid it under the desk, and pulled it put again as soon as he passed. The writing was so deep, so sad, like Emeralds letters. They shared the same writing style, Quasi and his mother. It was beautiful. Well, until i found the next entry. Then all concepts of beauty left my head as i read through the carefully written paragraph, replaced instead with a heavy feeling of dread. It was dated a few months ago and ran like so:

I have always been afraid to lose the people i care about. But it happens so often anyway- mother, Marcus, Alice. They all left. Maybe its all i deserve. But sometimes i cant help wondering if there's anyone out there afraid to lose me. It doesn't seem likely. And even if there were, it wouldn't make any difference. I would only tell them one thing: don't cry at my funeral, for i have been dead for a long time. I am only hanging onto this world by a thread, and i find myself becoming more curious about the other side of this endless abyss. One day, i may just let go.

I think i stared at that page for the longest time, not thinking, not doing anything, just staring, shocked, at a confession that i never thought id see from someone i knew. I wasn't unfamiliar with the concept of suicide - i knew of relatives on both sides of my family who had given up on life. But they were only stories, distant and very impersonal. i never knew any of them myself. This was right here, right now. This was someone i cared about, someone special, having thoughts about death, and i was laughably under-qualified to handle it. Not that i would know what to do anyway.

I felt hollow as I looked over one more page, just one sentence that read I'm just so tired. Then I shut the book, unable to deal with what I had just read. I had never felt so helpless and afraid in my life. There was literally nothing i could do about this, except be there for him. I couldn't talk to him or give him any advice or try to change anything, like i had been doing with everything else. This was out of my hands.

I tried to console myself by reasoning that the entries were written a little while ago. Maybe his mental state had changed since then? He certainly wasn't showing any signs of depression right now, though i knew that didn't mean much. But hopefully this was old. Hopefully everything i was doing now was enough.

Oh, how i hoped.

Getting the book back to him was easy enough. I couldn't just give it to him- I didn't want him to know I'd read it- so I waited for him at our lockers after school, pretending to organize everything until he came. Then it was just a matter of 'accidentally' bumping into him and causing him to drop some of his stuff, which i helped him pick up and slipped the little journal into the pile while i was at it. Then i said goodbye and reminded him to practice, and left almost immediately to wait for mum. I just couldn't face him, ashamed at having delved into his innermost thoughts, and afraid that now I knew how he felt, I would be able to see it in his face. I don't think I could've endured that.

The contents of the journal haunted me all afternoon. Through chores and homework and early dinner and more homework, even while watching Star Trek on my laptop and doing my maths assignment at the same time, it was always right in front of my mind. Especially those last words: I'm just so tired. They were the words that filled me with fear and horror, and if I hadn't been occupied most if the time, I probably would've burst into tears.

But at night, after finishing my homework surprisingly early, I relocated to the girls' playroom where I wouldn't disturb any sleeping children and practiced the song. But playing wasn't enough to still my worried, hyperactive brain. No matter how much I played, my mind kept going back to the horrible words that were branded on my memory. So I sang, softly, and tried to play along, but the words kept getting muddled and my fingers kept slipping and finally, with tears in my eyes, I gave up and went to bed.

But my trials didn't end there. Lying in bed, eyes on the clock, I watched the numbers switch with agonizing slowness. Hours ticked by. I tossed and turned, threw the covers off and pulled them up again, switched on some music for a while and turned it off again. Nothing worked. I just couldn't get my mind to settle down and let me sleep. I kept seeing all the depressing things Quasi had written and wondering how long ago he had written it, did he still feel that way, what could I do. And then, as I started to doze off around 1:30, another question wormed its way into my tired mind: If the unthinkable did happen, how would i live without him?

Come to think of it, how would I live without him when all the stuff went down with Frollo and Quasi was passed off to foster care?

Cuz that's what it was all about, wasn't it? That's why i wanted to wait as long as possible. Not to prove a point, but to keep him with me. How selfish! I knew the danger of keeping him in that environment, and still I dawdled in helping him. Why would i do that? Why did i fear losing him so much that it over-rid my desire to do the right thing?

Cuz you're in love with him, stupid.

I sighed in defeat, knowing it to be true. I had ignored it for so long, distracted myself every time i came close to confronting my feelings, but there it was. The plain, unvarnished truth, laid bare before me. Nowhere to hide now. The fact of of the matter was that i loved him, and i had for a long time.

Oh dear. I definitely wouldn't be getting to sleep tonight, would I?

So how was that? I actually didn't mean to make the journal reading so angst-y and sad, but that's the way it happened. Trust me, this stuff is vital for a later part of the story.

And a revelation, finally! Yay! I hope I haven't strung this thing along too long, but i really do hate fast romances. And I know the scene is actually quite small, but I guess that's because I guess she's known she loves him for such a long time, and this is just finally admitting it to herself. No fanfare, no dramatic realizations. Just acknowledging something she already knew but didn't want to admit. Anyway, tell me what you thought. I think I did a decent job.

See you next chapter :)