FABLE

Just one second,

A beautiful moment

I'm falling fast, I can't forget

Over and over, your story's rewritten

Unbreakable chain, my déjà vu...

The dream always starts off with me sitting at the back of the bus. Everything's tinted gold with soft fall light, hazy and honey-colored like an old photograph.

I'm sitting with my two best friends. Just like I was on that day. Evan is to my right, watching the sea cliffs and fir trees roll by outside the window. Mia's on my left sharing my iPod, each of us with one earphone.

It's fitting that we're listening to Déjà Vu by Fable, because I feel the strongest déjà vu at this moment – like I've lived this over and over countless times.

As is the way with dreams, I can't remember where we're going or where we came from, but that's ok.

My math teacher Ms. Blythe is at the front of the bus with the driver, wearing the same white blouse and yellow skirt she was wearing on that day. She's standing in front of a chalkboard drawing the infinity symbol, tracing its curves and bends over and over. Some of the kids near the front are leafing through their textbooks. This is the part where I always forget it's a dream, and I'm unsure if we're on a bus or in math class.

I nudge Evan to ask him what's going on. I wish I hadn't. As he turns to face me something wet and cold brushes my cheek. The sunlight sparkles off a stripe of damp green caught up in his curls. I reach into his hair and pull it out.

A strand of dripping seaweed clings to my hand.

Evan turns to face me, lifting his finger to his lips with a smile.

"Shhh....." he tells me.

He closes his eyes and opens his mouth. Stinking, reddish-brown salty water pours out all over the front of his t-shirt.

Row by row, the rest of the class turns in their seats towards us with water gushing from their mouths, seaweed and broken glass glinting in their hair. Even though their eyes are closed I know they're all looking at me.

I can still hear Déjà Vu playing; Mia tugs the earphone out of my ear. A scream is building up in the back of my throat. I smell salt. Mia's lips are icy as she presses them against my ear.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to –" she whispers.

I open my eyes just before the scream.

The faces of five beautiful boys gaze down at me.

I'm lying flat on my back in bed, sweat-drenched sheets tangled around my legs. The scream dies unreleased at the back of my throat.

Mia. Evan.

I stare hard at the poster on the ceiling, blinking up at it through the tears. Images of that sunny morning on the bus flicker and fade away as I concentrate on the Fable poster on the ceiling.

I know it sounds ridiculous, but this stupid poster of a British rock band is the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. The only thing that gives me the strength to face every new day.

"...unbreakable chain, my déjà vu..." The ringtone continues for a good ten seconds before I realize that my phone is ringing, and probably has been for a while. Zee. Damn.

I fumble for the phone next to my bed and almost hang up before hitting answer.

"Hey Sleeping Beauty. You coming down soon?" She sounds way too chipper for a school morning. I roll over onto my side, shutting my eyes against the line of sunlight creeping under my curtains.

"What time is it?"

"It's 7.15."

I sit bolt upright in bed. It's only a five minute drive to school, but I still need to shower and get dressed. At this rate we'll probably arrive late.

"Oh my god. I must have slept through my alarm." I'm already dragging myself out of bed, struggling to keep my eyes open. I don't feel like I've slept a wink. "Sorry for making you wait."

"It's ok Ashling." Zee's voice softens. "Was it... the dream again?"

I hesitate, pulling the curtain away from my bedroom window. In the driveway far below, Alix's Pontiac is parked dangerously close to the flowerbed. One more inch and he'll flatten my mom's beloved Iceberg roses. I make a mental note to tell Alix to park in the road instead of the driveway from now on.

"Are you ok Ashling?" Zee sounds worried.

"Yeah," I say as I close the curtains. "I saw Evan and Mia again."

We're both quiet for a moment.

"I'll be down in ten."

"Sure," Zee says. "Just take your time."

I MAKE GOOD ON my promise and climb into the backseat of Alix's car with a few minutes to spare.

"Just in time," Zee says with a glance at Alix. "I was on the verge of murdering him."

Alix is slapping his hands against the steering wheel in a steady beat, "car drumming" as he calls it. He says it's to get drumming practice in while he's driving; I suspect he just does it just to annoy Zee.

He doesn't turn around, but I see him wink at me in the rearview mirror before curling his lips into a wolfish grin.

"Hey Ashling," he says as he puts the car into reverse. "Welcome back to the land of the living".

Alix is one of the most wanted guys in the senior class, and he knows it. With a tall, tan, muscular physique, chiseled features and dark wavy hair courtesy of his Greek ancestry, he's built up a reputation as the Adonis of Huntson High.

At least six girls in our sophomore class have a crush on him. Zee and I know this all too well – as Alix's younger sister, Zee's been approached more than once by girls who want her to put in a good word for them.

I don't like him in that way, but sometimes the old me surfaces for just a moment. I feel embarrassed that he's seeing me like this. I look rough. The girl I used to be in middle school would never go out in public looking like I do now. I'm dressed down in skinny jeans, ancient converse sneakers and an oversized red hoodie over a camisole.

My hair is piled on top of my head in a damp blonde messy bun, still wet from the shower. There are dark circles under my eyes.

When did I stop caring?

We reach a stop sign and Alix starts flipping through radio stations.

"By the way Ashling, still up for band practice tomorrow?" He says as his eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. "Our parents are out from six. Which means..."

"You're going to make double the racket you usually do," Zee finishes off. "Kill me now!"

"Yeah, six is fine," I say.

I started playing together with Alix and his best friend Micah as a band last summer – ever since Zee told Alix that I sing and play guitar. I think she regrets that now.

The band's one of the few things I really care about any more, and recently I'm starting to have doubts about even that. It's been taking up more of my time recently, and I've slipped into the routine of spending at least one afternoon a week in Alix and Zee's dad's garage, aka our practice space.

When I'm singing, it's like I'm not myself. It's the only time I can drown out the worries, the awareness of other people, the fear... and just be. The band's become like a lifeline for me.

That's why I have to leave.

Alix is still flipping through radio stations when we hear a familiar voice announce "...up next we'll be talking with the boys of mega hit progressive rock band Fable, ahead of tonight's performance at the Rose Quarter. Stay tuned to 94.8 Best of Portland FM for more."

Zee makes a sound I've never heard before, something between a gasp and an inward scream.

"Ohmygod ohmygod OHMYGOD," Zee shrieks.

Alix's hand is already heading to the dial to change the station, and Zee smacks it away just in time.

"It's my car," he says, reaching again for the dial "and I'll change the station if I want to."

"Don't you dare, kyrios kalamatianos," she tells Alix, sounding all the more scary for her upbeat tone. I don't know what the name means, but it works on him every time.

He sighs but doesn't try to change the station again.

"Maybe there'll be some clue about where they're staying," she says seriously as she turns to face me. "I don't know if I can wait until tonight."

Tonight. The event everyone's been waiting for forever, and I'm the only one of my friends missing out.

"Wow, this whole day is going to be torture," I say.

I instantly regret saying it – the smile slips from Zee's face.

"I'm really sorry Ashling. I keep forgetting," she says. "You want me to turn it off?"

"Of course not!" I reply. "I want you guys to have fun tonight. Send me some pics and I'll be fine."

I already know she'll probably forget to send me anything. She'll be too busy enjoying every moment of it. Singing, dancing, trying to catch a glimpse of one of the boys.

It's kind of ironic that she's going tonight and I'm not. When we first became friends two years ago, just after I moved from Southwood Lakes to Huntson High, she had no clue who Fable even were.

Back then they were still taking off. They were just some unknown group of boarding school boys in Wales uploading their songs to YouTube from the one guy's dorm room.

Now the whole world's in love with them, and being one of their first fans from before they were famous hasn't helped me at all. Zee's going tonight, and I'm not.

What makes it even worse is that it's the first (and possibly last) time Fable are performing in Portland, and it almost didn't happen – we were added on right at the end of their world tour.

There was anarchy at school when the news broke. One tweet was all it took. Singing in the hallways. Girls crying out of happiness. Beth Donklin, Fable's self-appointed No.1 fan, actually fainted in gym from all the excitement and had to go home early. It was crazy.

Since then the buzz in the corridors has been building, sort of like the build up to Summer Break, but better. Way better. All for this one magical night.

Magical for everyone except me, that is.

I know it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I want to go so badly that it hurts. Not just for myself, but to keep a promise I made. The one thing I'm still holding on to and sticking around for. Unfinished business, if you will.

But I just can't do it.

I already have a pretty good idea of what'll happen if I go, and there's no way I could do that to my friends. Despite my best efforts, I've grown to care about them.

And that can only be a bad thing for me.

"AND WE'RE BACK," the radio announces. "If you've just joined us, after the ad break we'll be talking to the boys of Fable. Don't go anywhere!"

"No freaking way!" Zee says. "They just had an ad break!"

Alix lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Well obviously Zee. The station's squeezing in as many ads as possible around the interview so they can sell more stuff."

The car jolts forward as it screeches to a stop at the traffic lights. "It goes along with being commercial fake rock sellouts. I mean, they're basically a glorified boy band with instruments."

He's done it now. Zee turns her head very slowly to face him. I don't want her to start shouting or something and cause a car accident, so I put my hand on her shoulder.

Zee's pretty easygoing most of the time, but when it comes to Alix she's like a banshee.

"Just because the only thing you'll listen to is obscure bands with impossible to pronounce names, doesn't mean you get to trash what I like," she says so slowly and angrily that I swear her words could kill. "Admit it. You hate any band that's successful."

Alix might look like a jock on the surface, but underneath, he's pure hipster through-and-through. To the point of listening to everything on vinyl, playing ukulele on weekends and wearing thick-rimmed glasses during band practice (minus the lenses). At school he's the spitting image of a clean-cut star quarterback, all straight-edge and preppy Mr. Popular. It's like he's leading a double life, and sometimes I'm not sure which is the real him.

"You wouldn't get it," he replies, skidding the tires as he turns the car too quickly into a bus lane. "Anyway, you're under their spell now. You're not seeing what they really are."

"And what's that?" Zee asks.

"Sell outs," he replies.

Zee's face is turning bright red, which is a sure sign she's angry. Her skin is so tan that most people wouldn't be able to tell, but I know her well enough to see when she's furious - and so does Alix.

"Whoa, looks like I hit a nerve." He mutters glancing her way. "Forget I said anything."

"Don't tell me to forget it. I've had enough Alix. I'm tired of you ripping on them all the time."

"Lighten up Zee," he says. "I just want my little sister listening to quality music. Not the teen version of 30 Seconds to Mars." He adjusts his mirror slightly, glances at me for a moment.

"You too, Ashling," he says. "I mean, we're making music together, right? It's really sucks that our lead singer has a massive crush on some lame pop-rock band."

"Hey!" Zee protests. "Leave her out of it."

I reach out and squeeze her shoulder, struggling to find the right comeback.

"We get it Alix, you hate them," I say, trying to sound defiant but stumbling over my words. "If you actually gave their music a chance, you'd see... they're amazing. They helped me through a really tough time in my life."

I barely manage to even whisper the last part. It feels so stupid saying it out loud.

"Fable helped you? Seriously? You mean like, personally?" Alix smirks. "Did Felix Lockhart jump on a plane to serenade you? Did Lyall Greene cradle you in his arms and wipe away the tears while crooning Déjà Vu?"

"Well no, obviously," I say as I feel my face burning. "But they mean a lot... their music I mean... it's important to me. More than I can really explain."

I expect Alix to come back with another sarcastic comment, but he's just studying me in the rear-view mirror, his eyes dark and full of something I can't quite place.

Zee and my other besties Jamie and Grace are the only people at school who know about the accident. I don't blame Alix for not understanding.

The adverts end and Zee squeals, seemingly having forgotten about Alix's comments already.

One of the things that makes it so easy to love Zee - even though she gets angry quickly, she also gets over it just as fast.

"Welcome back to 94.8 Portland Waves FM. This is Martin Fowles with your Rise and Shine report. For those who've just joined us, we've got the boys of Fable live in studio to talk about the last leg of their worldwide WISH tour, which sold out within minutes of tickets going on sale. This group of strapping seventeen year olds has conquered the music charts this past year, going platinum in more than twenty-five countries. Welcome to Portland, boys."

"Thanks," several voices say at once.

Zee snorts at the radio. "Five seconds into the interview and Martin's already got his facts wrong. They're not all seventeen. Lyall's sixteen."

Alix rolls his eyes. "Obsessed much?"

"Shut up," Zee snaps back at him. "I'm trying to listen."

"So, I understand this is your first time in Oregon," Martin continues over the radio. "How are you finding it?"

A Canadian-accented voice speaks up. "Awesome. We're loving every second."

"Oh my god, that's Ben," Zee shrieks.

"Everytin's really beautiful 'ere," a cute, lyrical Irish-accented voice pipes up, before a smooth Mayfair accent cuts in "...especially the girls."

"Lyall! Oh my god Lyall and Alastaire!" Zee cries. "I can't believe they're really here. In Portland. Right now. Breathing the same air as us." She rolls down her window as if to get more air. She sounds like she's hyperventilating or something.

"So, first things first," Martin says in his smooth radio voice. "Your name. Fable... it's a bit odd, isn't it? Not your typical rock band name. How'd you come up with that?"

"That's actually a good question Martin," says a boy with a clear, confident voice. Elliot Shawcross. He's Mr. Responsible, the band's bassist. Most fans think he's the most mature of the group, even though he's only eldest by four months.

"When we were trying to think of a name, we wanted something that represented all of us. So we put the first letters of all our names together and scrambled them up to see if we could make a word."

"I see," says Martin "so it's F for Felix..."

"Obviously," Felix cuts in. "A for Alastaire, B for Ben, L for Lyall, E for Elliot. Did you seriously not know that?"

There's a moment of silence, broken after a few seconds by Lyall's nervous laughter.

"Ah. Ok. Gotchya," Martin says, a slight catch in his voice. He sounds suddenly on edge. "So... Elliot. Tell me a bit about how you all met... I understand you were all at boarding school together in Wales."

"That's right," Elliot says.

"And how did the band form? Whose idea was it?"

All the boys answer "Lyall" almost at exactly the same time.

Lyall's soft Irish laugh is sort of warm and infectious. I find myself grinning straight away just hearing it. As the youngest in the group, he's considered by some to be the "cutie" – the boy next door.

His big brown eyes and a shock of messy cinnamon reddish-brown hair, plus his ever-present smile, certainly help out in that department.

"Well I don't like takin' de credit," Lyall says, laughter still in his voice.

"It's true though," Elliot cuts in.

"Yeah, he wouldn't shut up about it for weeks," Ben says.

"Lyall had his own channel on YouTube where he sang stuff and played songs on his digital keyboard," he says. "He was getting a lot of female fans, subscribers, whatever."

"But I'm a shite singer," Lyall interjects.

"Yes, he is kinda," Ben says. "Felix sings really well, so Lyall sort of... pestered him I guess. He made us all join. He knew that I play the drums, Alastaire plays guitar and Elliot plays bass. So we sort of all got to know each other and we formed a band."

"So you weren't actually friends before you formed Fable?"

"No, we barely knew each other," Elliot says. "Except Felix and Lyall. They've been friends for years."

"And how would you describe your sound?"

It's Alastaire who speaks this time. "Well, last year Rolling Stone called us theatrical fantasy rock with a dash of progressive electronica. But our music's still very approachable. It's even been called fantasy pop. That's probably the most passable definition I've heard."

Just listening to him speak, it's obvious why the haters have labeled Alastaire a snob, while the fans consider him "the charming one".

Even though all the boys met at a prestigious boarding school, Alastaire still sticks out – his accent and way of speaking make him sound like some kind of romantic aristocrat. An aristocrat who happens to have the palest blue eyes, an unusually beautiful face and a halo of burnished gold hair that literally makes him look like an angel from an old painting (hence his nickname – "The Angel".) He's really taken the whole angel thing on board, and started playing with a pure white electric guitar, embellished with two silver angel wings on the scratch-plate.

It's all a recipe for creating obsessed stalker fangirls, and the reason that Alastaire's fans – or Alastaire's Angels, as they call themselves - are particularly aggressive and territorial over him.

When it comes to fan numbers though, the most popular band member by far is Fable's lead singer, Felix.

Where Alastaire is sun-kissed and light, Felix is all shadows and mystery – his trademark longish dark brown hair, hazel eyes and vampire-pale skin seem to have half the girls in the world under his spell. The fact that he's rude, arrogant and unnervingly cold doesn't seem to matter to his legions of fans. Some girls like jerks. I'm not one of them. I love Fable, but that doesn't extend to every single one of the band's members.

"Ok, so you started off singing covers," Martin continues. "But it didn't stay that way for long, did it?"

"No." Alastaire replies. "We got bored of that. That's why we started writing our own songs".

"Déjà Vu was de first," says Lyall. "An' probably most Enfablers' favorite track."

"Enfablers?" Martin asks, sounding genuinely confused.

Zee is getting impatient. "Jeez, it's called research!" she mutters at the radio. "Try it some time."

But Alastaire's response is cool and measured. "Yes, that's the name our fans have given themselves. Enfablers, as in Fable enablers. It's quite fitting – we're constantly amazed by how supportive they are... of us and of each other. We couldn't do any of this without them."

"It's touchin' really," Lyall pipes in. "We 'ave de best fans in de world."

The boys murmur agreement in the background, and again I feel a slight stab of guilt.

"In that case, care to sing a bit of Déjà Vu here on air for them?" asks Martin.

"I hate to admit it, but Felix is the only one with a decent voice," Ben says. "What do you say, F-"

Without missing a beat, Felix's voice cuts loud and clear through the radio waves, slipping into the first line of the song.

Even though I listen to Fable every day, the sound of Felix's voice still gives me goose bumps every time I hear it. He sounds amazing, even without the backing of instruments. Jerk though he may be, it's undeniable that he's got an unbelievably amazing singing voice. He sings until the end of the chorus then stops.

There's a slight pause before Martin finds his voice again. "Well, I can certainly see what all the fuss is about," Martin says. "That was... wow."

"Damn straight it was," Zee says, shooting a challenging glance at Alix, daring him to contradict her.

"This is the last concert of your WISH tour," Martin continues. "It's been twenty-four countries in six months. You must be exhausted. What are you planning to do after the tour wraps up?"

"We'll speak to the press about that when we're ready to," Felix answers. I can picture his deadpan, bored expression now. Poor Martin.

There's a long silence before Martin recovers, talking twice as fast as usual.

"Ok then! Good luck for tonight," Martin hurriedly says. "For those lucky enough to have tickets – have a wonderful evening. Fable will be performing live at the Rose Quarter at 7pm, and judging by what we've just heard it's a concert not to be missed. Thanks for coming on the show boys."

"That's a pleasure Martin, thanks for having us," Elliot says. "We hope -"

Before he can finish Alix has switched off the radio.

"Hey!" Zee shrieks at him "what do you think-"

"We're already at school, idiot," Alix interrupts her. It's only then that I realize we're parked and everything – we might have arrived minutes ago for all I know.

Alix winces as Zee slams her door a little too hard.

"You could have at least let us listen until the end," she sulks.

"And let you be late for class?" he answers. "What kind of responsible older brother would that make me? Anyway, try not to burn down the school today."

He's referring to last Monday when Zee accidentally set fire to her experiment in chem lab. Even though Mr. Schwartz managed to put it out in five seconds flat and no one got hurt, people kept talking about it and by the end of the day the story in the corridors was that Zee had tried to set the whole school alight and the entire class had been evacuated.

I know for a fact that's not what happened. I'm Zee's lab partner after all.

Zee sticks her tongue out at Alix quickly.

"I can't wait for next year," she says.

Even though Zee's turning sixteen and getting her driver's license next month, she has to wait for Alix to graduate before she can get his car. Her parents can't afford to buy her a car right away, so it's basically a waiting game.

"Bye Ashling." He winks at me as he walks towards his friends on the entrance steps.

As we walk up through the parking lot, I see it out of the corner of my eye.

Yellow. Kids streaming out.

I walk a bit faster and face forward, determined not to look at it. It's just a school bus, but it feels like so much more. A ghost. Something I can't forget.

A high-pitched scream cuts through the air.

I snap my head back as a cold chill runs down my spine. A little girl is literally being dragged kicking and screaming into the kindergarten across the road.

Now that I've turned around and the school bus is in my line of sight, I can't stop staring. The last few stragglers are just stepping off the bus, the driver is hunched over his seat, tapping on the screen of his phone. There's no blood. None of the windows are broken. But still. I feel myself start to shake.

Zee puts her hand on my shoulder.

"Let's go, Ashling."