AS WE PULL INTO the stadium parking lot, I realize that the screaming is coming from a huge crowd of girls hanging around outside.Zee, Grace, Jamie and everyone else who has a ticket will be inside by now.These are the fans who didn't get concert tickets in time.Most of them are standing around waving signs that read "FABLE FOREVER" OR "ENFABLER4LIFE", singing, screaming, showing their support even though they won't get to see the actual show.When Fable first started getting popular, their fans were mostly teenaged girls. The press were quick to label them as a boy band, even though they play their own instruments, and their sound is closer to rock than pop. As they started winning awards and earning respect, the press changed their tune. They were the band that "brought rock back". The cherry on top was when David Bowie, dressed head-to-toe in his Jareth costume from Labyrinth, joined the boys onstage during a performance of Déjà Vu at Central

THE MOMENT THAT KITTY leaves the suite, the three angels swoop down on me.I shrink back from the cloying semi-circle of bleached blonde hair, fake tan and too-sweet perfume.They look a few years older than me, possibly seniors at another school.I was so worried about running into the Three Bs, and instead I've ended up with another (possibly worse) trio of angels.Unfortunately it's not as coincidental as one might think.Alastaire's fans always seem to travel in packs. All Enfablers are like a big family, a sisterhood that spans the globe – but the angels take it to the extreme.Angels stick together with one goal in mind. Their sole aim is to get chosen. To get noticed by their idol, and to have the honor of being one of the special angels that "Alastaire takes up to heaven" after each concert.That's what the rumors online say, and it looks like there might be some truth to them.The girl in the sparkly gold top is smiling

KITTY COMES BACK BEFORE the end of the show, this time holding a sparkly silver purse instead of a clipboard.She's changed out of the playsuit and is wearing an elegant black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline.If only I'd put on a pretty dress today. FML."This way, ladies," she says gesturing out the door.The Alastair's Angels push in front of me as we walk to the door.Kitty leads us through a labyrinth of corridors and elevators, all the way to the backstage area on the ground floor.We're ushered into a small, brightly lit dressing room, with several leather sofas and racks of clothes.The walls are covered in mirrors, and the angels quickly whip out their makeup.We haven't been in the room more than ten seconds before they're inspecting their reflections, puckering their lips and adding that all-important final coat of lip gloss.I don't have any makeup or even a hairbrush with me, and there's no way in hell I'd ask

I'M ON THE BUS again, dreaming the same old dream I've been stuck on since the accident.Everything starts off the same.The bus winds through the late afternoon sunlight, jagged cliffs and sparkling sea far below.Evan's on my right, looking out the window. Mia's on my left, sharing the iPod earphones. Our favorite Fable song, Déjà Vu, blasts into our ears.Usually at this point in the dream, Mrs. Blythe starts teaching math on a huge chalkboard at the front of the bus. Which leads to me pulling the glassy seaweed out of Evan's hair, and him vomiting up seawater, and everyone on the bus turning around and Mia whispering to me before I wake up.Tonight, however, the dream doesn't run its usual course.Tonight, the dream is different.Tonight, I'm not dreaming.I'm remembering.Just as it happened on that day, Mia reaches over and turns up the sound on my iPod.She mouths out the words to Déjà Vu, her

"Is that... you, Felix?" I ask."Obviously," he answers. There's a long silence on the other end of the line.Ok. Calm down. He called my house. That's a good thing, nothing to freak out about. It's impossible to embarrass myself any more than I already have."You left your phone in the dressing room last night," he says. "And your guitar. We're only flying out at noon, so I'll bring them over to you."What? WHAT?"How did you get my number?" It sounds more suspicious than I intended it to."I'm calling from your phone. I just selected home in the contacts," he replies.Oh. My. God. Maybe I never actually woke up this morning."Are you still there?" He asks, irritation creeping into his voice."Yes! I... are you sure it's ok?" I ask. "You don't mind coming here?""It's fine," he says. "What's your address?""10 Ariel Terrace," I answer in a daze. "The double story with th