What would have happened if Olivia really had said no to being in Lemonade Mouth? I know bad right? But don't worry this is not real *phew*

There is no Lemonade mouth category as of yet so this is where I'm leaving this story, sorry for any inconvenience

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Ooh except my two OC characters showing up soon ;)

Olivia's POV:
'Fluke or denstiny? We need to talk-Stella' I stare at the text in utter horror. No. No way.

I notice Wen come up behind me and put his phone next to mine "do you think it's about the band?" he asks

Out of habit whenever Wen gets extra close I spin around totally off balance crashing into the lockers banging my shoulder. Looking back at him before I walk away I'm very tempted to do it. If it means spending more time with Wen, I'm very tempted.

Stop it now Olivia. Shaking my head and forcing cute images of a certain red head from it I walk to the library. A home away from home.

"good morning Olivia" Mrs Kismond the libraian greets me. Yes I come in here that much.

"Good morning" I beam at her whilst passing.

Walking into the back corner I sit in my usual place and pull out todays book. Finally back in my comfort zone I snuggle into the navy blue armchair.

The library has its usual smell of used books and lemon. Inhaling the familiar scent the worry over 'the band' leaves me completely. I don't sing in public. Ever.

Wen saying that he found it 'hilarious' that I threw up down Mickey-Nichols back was enough to make sure I would never be part of that band. I can't sing in front of people. I can't sing in front of him.

The library is too quiet this morning, too much time to think.

Groaning I violently shove my book back into my bag. My mind is too hyperactive, too awake.

Its my own fault. When they started playing that beat at detention last night one of my songs just fit it so well I couldn't help but sing. I didn't even realise I was singing it. Now I've sang one of my songs to an 'audience' I crave more.

Leaping to my feet I weave through the bookcases and out through the door. Walking down the corridor I've never been more greateful that I'm totally invisible. Space.

Almost skipping into math I take my usual seat at the front. Pulling out my battered sky blue notebook I turn to a fresh page and write another letter to my dad that I'll never send.

Dear Dad,

I still hate you. I still hate maths. I still hate Tuesdays and I still hate that when something is on my mind its all I can think about.
Alot has changed since I was 9 though. I've grown taller, not alot but I have. What am I supposed to write in these letters? Am I supposed to lie and say 'everything is fine' so you don't worry?
I don't want your pitty.
Nancy's still alive. What was that about she'd die early? Thats why I love her so much, because you can't stand her. Gram read one of these 'letters' the other day. She just laughed. Yeah she hates you too.

"Ah-hem Miss White care to share what your writing?" I look up startled to see the whole class in their seats staring at me. Gritting my teeth I shake my head. Mr Whittaker glares at me annoyance plastered on his face.

Smiling slightly to myself I flip the notbook closed and shove it back into my bag. I will not get another detention because of my dad. Plus I don't want to risk what happened yesterday happening again.

Looking up at the board I roll my eyes. They may as well write it all in Chinese for all I care, heck I may understand it more! With a sigh I open my math book and start copying from the board.

"psst Olivia" my muscles freeze as I hear Wen's sweet voice from behind me. No ignore it. Pretend you didn't hear, he'll just be asking about the band "Olivia?"

Singing in my head to block him out I absentmindesly start doodling. A screwed up picece of paper lands next to my book knocking my pencil during its decent.

Groaning I grab it and spread it out in my book

'You coming tonight or what?- Wen'

Screwing it back up I shove it into my bag and go back to mindlesly doodling. Hunching over my book I fight the urge to look back at Wen.

Eventually the bell rings to signal the end of Math. I grab my bag and with one sweep of my arm pick up all my things from the desk. Clutching everything between my arms I hurry out of the classroom heading straight for my locker.

Throwing Maths carelessly into the small box I yank out my lunch. Holding my bag and lunch in one hand I stare into my locker. Why am I running away from them? If I say no then thats it.

So why am I so worried just talking to them will change my mind?

Slamming my locker with more force than I realised I had I storm over to my usual table. Setting my lunch on the metal circle I pull out my most recent dad update. Glaring at the crisp white paper I'm tempted to rip it up. Instead with careful hands I unfold it and stare at the words

Dear Olive,
I'm sorry. How many times do I have to say it before you'll write back? I never meant to hurt you, surely you understand that? Anyhow how are things? Are you and 'Gram' okay? I do notice how my updates seem to get shorter and shorter everytime now. I tell you everything Olive, you need to write back. Give this old man hope in this hell house.
Lots of love Dad xx

A sudden ache in my shoulder reminds me that I bashed it earlier. Rubbing it gently I stare down at the paper tears lingering in the corners of my eyes.

I believe you dad.

My appaitite long gone I pick everything up and evacuate the lunch room.