Second Chance

It didn't matter that they had done nothing but avoid, ignore and give me evil looks since I had begun hanging out with their group - now, in my last few moments with all five of them together, Brian and Jimmy were all too eager to give me their words of farewell. To tell me goodbye, good luck in the future, and to encourage me to keep listening to their music. It was almost like we had been friends all along. Almost.

They were both remaining behind in Adelaide while Matt and Johnny tagged along with Zacky to take me back to Sydney; the five of them had arranged to meet up again the very next day at their hotel in Melbourne, which was where their show the next night would be taking place. I was glad that they would be able to return to their normal routine, but also a little sad that I couldn't be there to watch them play again. I was going to keep an eye out for their return to Australia.

I didn't know exactly how I felt about returning to Sydney after all of this. It had been nice to escape my life for just that little while, but now I was going back to face everything - the death of my best friend, the wrath of my abusive father when he found out I wasn't going to be returning home, dealing with the police if I gathered the courage to turn him in. All of this was enough to make me wish that I was on the road myself, travelling the country. Maybe one day I would.

Their choice of transport from the airport to Stacey's house was a taxi; it was a good thing that I was the only one with luggage, and an even better thing that my "luggage" was nothing but a single backpack filled with clothes, trinkets and paperwork. It fit in with us easily.

"Before we drop you off," Zacky started as we were driven along a busy road, "we have a few things for you."

"You're kidding right?" I asked in disbelief. "Not only did you save my life, but you gave me somewhere safe to stay until now." I shook my head at him. "I don't need anything."

"You're getting it anyway."

The first thing produced was a mobile phone, some fancy brand that my father would never have let me touch let alone own. I gaped at Zacky; he, Matt and Johnny merely chuckled at the clearly stunned expression on my face.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all," he assured me as he practically shoved the thing into my hand. "I assumed you didn't have one, since you didn't grab it the last time we were in your house."

"My father threw mine at the wall," I admitted.

"Well then, now you have a new one." He grinned, looking very proud of himself. "And I know you didn't write down my cell number when I gave it to you, so I've programmed it into this instead."

"You're not scared I'll spread that around?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or, like, sell it on the Internet or something?"

"Nope. I trust you'll do the right thing with it."

"And what exactly is 'the right thing' to do with it?"

"Call me whenever you feel like you need to talk," he replied, "or when you're in trouble."

I couldn't see how calling him when I was in trouble was going to be doing me any help - for the next few days, we were going to be in completely different states. And then in the days, weeks, months after that, in separate countries. But the thought of having somebody there just to talk when I needed to - now that was something that I could live with. Especially given the circumstances.

"...thank you. That's really sweet of you."

"There's still more," he reminded me, and nodded his head at Johnny. I turned to my right to face the shorter man, who proceeded to pull an iPod from his jacket pocket.

"You know I already have one of those, right?" I asked him, thinking of the battered old thing in my backpack. My most valued possession. Not something that could ever be replaced.

"This one's special," Johnny assured me. "It's got good music on it." He turned it on and started flipping through the catalogue so I could see proof of this. I recognised a few of the names - Iron Maiden and Metallica being the two main ones that I knew. "We stuck all of our own songs on here too, so next time we come around you'd better know all the words."

"How did you have time to do all of this?" was the only thing I managed to ask. "I was with you the whole time."

"We had a couple of the crew from last night help us out," Zacky explained. "I think they did pretty good since we gave them such short notice."

It was one of the nicest things that anybody had ever done for me. Hands down. I gave them both a hug as best as I could while being held in by a seatbelt, and gave Matt my eternal thanks. He gave me a small nod to show I had been heard.

And then before I knew it, we were there.

The four of us climbed out of the taxi, Matt asking the driver to wait for them while Zacky politely offered me his hand in assistance, and stood in front of the house.

"This is a nice place," Johnny stated, looking up at it.

And I could see how he could think that. It had been given a fresh coat of white paint just last year, and was miraculously still clean and looking well cared for. The matching white lace curtains in the windows were all drawn shut, a sight that I wasn't used to. To the rest of the world they were just curtains in the window - to me, it was a sign that these parents were definitely mourning the loss of their only child.

"Shall we save our goodbyes until after they've answered the door this time?" Zacky asked, and I could hear the joking in his tone.

"Sounds like a plan."

I stepped up onto the porch and rang the doorbell confidently, already looking forward to seeing the two familiar faces. When a full minute passed and I got no answer, I rang it again. To no avail. I turned back to Zacky and his friends in a state of confusion.

Zacky took to mimicking my actions from the other night. I watched him walk over to the garage and look in through the same side window that I had, assessing the room inside thoroughly before turning back to me with a grim expression on his face.

"There's no car in there."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Johnny asked, the rest of the unspoken conversation between Zacky and myself completely lost to him and Matt. "There's no car in there?"

"It means they're not home," I informed him, peering in through one of the windows. It was hard to make out much through the lacy curtains, but my heart sank as I became certain of one thing. "Their stuff's gone, too."

I sat down on the steps; Zacky made his way over to join me, while Johnny stood awkwardly in the middle of the pavement and Matt surprised us all by heading on over to the neighbour's house and knocking sharply on the door. The elderly woman who lived there was quick to come to the door, though she kept it locked as she spoke to Matt through the screen. He was not phased by the fact that she probably thought he was some sort of murderer, simply asking her a few questions that I couldn't quite make out.

When he finally made his way back over to us, he didn't bring good news with him.

"According to the lovely Mrs. Briggs next door," he began, "the couple that lived here packed up and left early this morning. They're not coming back."

It was barely even two in the afternoon. If they had left, they must have been packing for a while. Or, at the very least, they'd been packing non-stop since some time yesterday. I looked back at the house. They're not coming back. If this was true, I was in quite the predicament.

"...what am I supposed to do now?"

"Do you have anywhere else you can go?" Matt asked calmly. "Anywhere at all?"

I gave it some serious thought. One thing was for sure: I couldn't go home. Even the thought of doing so sent fear shooting straight into my heart. I couldn't be here, because the house no longer had occupants. I had no idea where Stacey's parents would have gone - truthfully, it could have been anywhere in the world. I had no other family around, and no other family that I even knew. I didn't have any other friends, as sad as it sounded, and without a decent full-time job, I couldn't be on my own.

I shook my head. I was royally screwed.

Silence fell all around us. A gentle breeze blew through the trees, barely audible over the sound of the busy traffic a few blocks away. I glanced around at the three men; Johnny was looking from Matt to Zacky and back again, while Matt and Zacky themselves were staring at each other with such determination that I thought if I listened hard enough I might be able to hear their unspoken conversation.

"No," Matt said after several moments of silence. "Absolutely not, Zachary."

"Do you have a better idea, Matthew?"

"Social services," he replied simply with a small shrug. He turned to me quickly and added, "No offence, kid."

"None taken," I assured him. I turned my attention to Zacky. "You should go. You brought me back to Sydney, which is already more than I could ask for. Give it a little time and I'll find my own way."

"No." It was Zacky who spoke the word this time. "I stick by what I said last time. I'm not leaving you on the streets. Not with your father still out there."

"So we'll report him to the police," Matt cut in.

"And they'll hand her over to social services," Zacky finished before him. Then he took my own words and used them against his friend. "They'll stick her in a foster home for two years, and then she'll be back out on the streets again. And she's back at square one."

"She might get good foster parents," Matt countered. "They won't necessarily throw her out when she's eighteen. And she could get a job in those two years, earn enough money to rent a place of her own..."

Zacky glanced at me, as if I were a traitor for not telling him this earlier. I held up my hands in surrender, indicating that he shouldn't get me involved in his argument. I was all for them just leaving me here, or reporting my father to the police. One way or another, I would survive. And what Matt was saying sounded oddly appealing - in just two years time, I could be standing on my own two feet with a place to call my own. It would be fantastic.

"I'm not taking the chance," Zacky said at long last. "She's coming with us."

"Zack, you're not thinking straight," Matt replied sternly, and I was starting to detect the frustration in his tone. "You ne-'

"She's coming with us," Zacky repeated, "or I'm staying here."

"Dude!" Johnny looked appalled at the words he'd just heard; indeed, I was shocked by them, too. "You can't just abandon us mid-tour!"

"I can, and I will."

"You have to go," I told him firmly. "You have a tour to finish, and you're not going to ditch your friends because of me."

"Try and stop me."

Matt looked thoughtful, and very much as though he would really like to argue the point with Zacky. But for some reason unknown to me, he didn't. He simply stared at his friend, lips set in a sort of frown while his mind reeled for an answer to the situation. I was more than a little surprised at the next words to leave his mouth.

"Abigael," he said, turning his eyes on me, "could I talk to you a moment?"

"Er...sure."

I abandoned my place on the stairs and walked with Matt until we were out of earshot of the other two; Zacky watched us cautiously, but I was more curious about what Matt had to say. Matt himself gestured to the taxi driver to keep waiting before he turned to speak to me.

"Is this any of your doing at all?" he asked fiercely, his eyes suddenly hard. "Any of it at all? You been taking advantage of him?"

"What? No!" I stared back at him, confused. "Taking advantage of him? What're you talking about? I'm the one who keeps telling him to just leave me, that I'll be fine!"

He stared at me for a long while, assessing me. What he was assessing for exactly, I couldn't tell. But watch me he did, his eyes still hard until at long last he gave a defeated sigh and his tough-guy attitude dropped. The Matt that I had come to know in the short amount of time we'd been together returned, looking tired and frustrated.

"Do you have a passport?"

His question caught me off guard.

"Er...yeah," I admitted at last, my mind drifting to the contents of my backpack. It was still on the stairs, beside Zacky. "But I...don't have it with me," I realised. "It's back at home. In my...father's room..."

"We're gonna need to grab it."

I hoped that he could see exactly how crazy I thought he was for suggesting this. It was Friday afternoon - prime time for my father to be at home, drinking as much liquor as he could get his hands on. He was always prepared for when I got home from school. Which meant that he would be home.

"Hear me out," Matt went on, holding up a hand in an attempt to calm me. He had misunderstood my fear. "I wouldn't usually ask, but it's too late for us to find a replacement for him, and we can't afford to cancel this tour right now. So unless I can figure something else out before we have to leave again," he hesitated before he spoke his last few words, "I'm gonna need you to join us for a few more shows. We won't take you any further than New Zealand."

I didn't care how far he intended to take him. It didn't change the fact that he wanted me to go back to that house.

"Abbey?"

I focused on him once again.

"A few shows," he assured me. "I'll fix it as soon as I can."

"When do you guys leave Australia?" I asked him.

"Tuesday."

Four days away. Surely he could fix all this in four days?

"Alright," I agreed. "But do I really need my passport?"

"Better safe than sorry," he told me apologetically. "Our show in New Zealand is on the Wednesday. There won't be time to argue the point with him then, but we have a week off after that. And that seems the most likely time I'll be able to fix this."

Why hadn't I grabbed the stupid thing the last time I had been in this house? It had slipped my mind. It hadn't occurred to me that I would be travelling out of the country, so there had been no need for it. And above all, it was in my father's room. Tucked away in a draw. I never went in there, for fear of being caught. And now it looked like I was going to have to.

"I don't want to go back there."

I had blurted the words before I had even realised they'd been forming on my lips. I expected Matt's frustration to escalate at this, but instead I got a look of sympathy as his eyes travelled around my face. Was I still bruised?

"We'll be right there with you."

Even after eyeing his biceps for several seconds, I wasn't entirely convinced.