Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi, if I did: Adam would have Jess be his girlfriend. There would be Saddie/Wesley. Eclare would have never ended. This pairing would happen. Cake would have never started, just Jatie. Jenna would have gotten her just deserts long before getting preggo; Marisol would also be getting a piece of that desert. Ziley would have evolved. More Anya/Riley/Zane triage. There would be Saddie/Jess/new niner friendships. KC would be acting like KC. Honestly, the list of what would happen goes on and on, and I don't want to bore you…

Author's Note: Hello, I got this idea after watching reruns of old Fitzy days - you know the ones before he was all Jesus-loves-me. I don't know why, but lately Fitzmogen(?) began appealing to me. I just think that Imogen and Fitzy would be cute. You know, the whole weird girl and bad boy. Cliché, but very cute.

So anyways, this story is pre-All Falls Down. At this moment I'm not sure if All Falls Down will happen in this story. Probably not, but I will not write it off just yet. So since AFD hasn't happened everyone's out of those ugly polo's that does not fit anyone's color personality this season (Honestly Eli in blue. Do I need to say more? At least red was a plausible color option.), and thankfully are in their normal clothing, even though I'm not sure what else Imogen would wear but that adorable anime dress… Oh, also Fitz isn't a freak, he is a badass once more; cue the halleluiah music in his honor and kiss his boots as he struts in a slo-mo-badass-way down the hallways of my heart ; ).

So anyways, since we know almost squat about Imogen, who I enjoy very much, and we only know Fitz as either a bully or Jesus-obsessed, I apologized for either of them seeming OOC. I tried hard making Fitz seen in character, but it's hard. I can only imagine how he'd respond to an oddball like Imogen, so if he seems soft, or whatever, don't rip my head off.

By the way, Imogen's friend, Thalia is of my own creation. Obviously. I'll post her gorgeous photo on my profile.

Chapter One:

Just Another Hectic Friday

Do you know what I find highly distracting? Sitting behind the ever-so-alluring Elijah Goldsworthy. His black hair looks so soft, so perfectly silky, I want to reach up and run my hands through it. I'd bet my bottom dollar it is as soft and silky as it looks at this very moment. But alas, I'm not that weird. I want him to marry me and have my children - not want to piss his trousers and run away at the sight of me.

All I can imagine is being able to do that; along with kissing his perfectly shaped red lips. The poetry he'd write for me on various occasions - I'm sure he's a true romantic. The type of guy who would do the small things: write poetry, spur of the moment romantic walks on beaches, ect, ect.

"Imooooo, I'm so bored!" whined my best friend, Thalia Whitson, in a whisper. She's a rather weird chick, and trust me when I say that I know weird chicks.

"Hush," I snipped at her, keeping my voice low. The last thing I needed was to get in trouble. Not that my mommy and daddy would care.

"Miss Moreno," coach Armstrong said, his voice sounding as boring as ever. "Is there something you'd like to share with us?"

"No, sir. Not that I can think of." I said, pretending to give the question some serious thought. It earned a giggle or two from my fellow peers.

Coach Armstrong rolled his eyes and droned on about derivatives. What's a derivative? Not a clue.

I picked up my pen and went back to my notes that are covered in various doodles, quotes, song lyrics and quotes - basically anything that has popped into my squirrel-like brain for the past twenty minutes.

Suddenly, Thalia leaned across the aisle and snatched my pen out of my hand. It's my favorite one too, it has Hello Kitty on it and writes in the prettiest blue ink. Don't judge my love of pens. Or love of Hello Kitty for that matter. You know she's awesome.

Thalia, to my absolute horror, chucked the pen into the abyss of the room. I watched in horror as it hit someone on the head. And not just a normal person who would send a glare, like that Drew Torres, or even Mo Mashkour. No it had to bounce off the head of one of the most scariest boys in the entire classroom - and school for that matter: Mark Fitzgerald - or Fitz as he prefers.

My mouth was wide open, like a fish; my eyes were widened to the size of dinner plates as Fitz, who had decided to show up to class to place his hand in his palm and practically drool over his texts, instead of paying attention to derivatives, lifted his head. His face went from: stunned, confused, pissed, and livid, all under a total of five seconds. Looking down at the pen and picking it up he lifted his head, his eyes landing on me and glaring.

Besides the fact that I almost wet my britches under the scrutiny of his haughty gaze, I couldn't figure out why he just assumed that was my Hello Kitty pen. I mean honestly, it's a really girly pen. It could belong to that bitchy girl, Marisol Lewis. I was baffled till I turned to see Thalia pointing in my direction, mouthing: "It was her!" I sent Thalia an evil glare. Why must my only friend make me miserable? I mean after all I've done for her she should be kissing the ground I walk upon and be sending me assorted chocolates. But no, not Thalia Whitson, she repays saints like me by throwing their pens at scary boys who could snap said saint like a twig with his mere pinky finger, and then put the blame of the action on the saint!

Fitz face twisted into a look of anger I only have ever seen him give to two people: my future husband, Eli Goldsworthy and Adam Torres; they're the brave souls to take him. I for one, am not a brave soul. Many sorting hat tests have told me I belong to the noble house of Slytherin; ergo, no bravery for me.

I whacked Thalia upside the head, making her long golden locks fly up like a wave. She sent me an open-mouth look of shock and anger; let's call the look "shanger." No one, and I mean no one, touches Thalia's hair. Unless you want your eyes clawed out.

"Miss Moreno, since you find it so hard to keep your hands to yourself and pay attention you can go down to Principal Simpson's office." Coach Armstrong said, glaring at me.

I bowed my head in shame, and gathered my things into my bag; giving Thalia a nice kick in the shins for good measure, and left the room.

"Mr. Fitzgerald, where do you think you're going?" Armstrong asked, as I was about to walk out the door, ignoring the "L" Marisol was giving me on her forehead. Honestly, she is a grade eleven, I expect gestures like that from my eleven year old sister Ambrosia.

Yeah, my folks are absolute shit at names. Even though my name fits me, Ambrosia's name doesn't fit her at all. Ambrosia is a perfect looking blonde haired, blue eyed, pixie-like girl. She's the type of girl you'd expect to be named, I don't know, Ashley or Courtney. Ambrosia sounds like a disease, even though it's some Greek God food. Thrilling stuff, I know.

"To the bathroom," is all he offers, following me out.

Oh Zeus' stripped pajamas! He's going to kick my ass. What should I do? Get down on my hands and knees and beg for mercy? Run as fast as my legs will go?

Once we step out into the hall he does that last thing I'd ever expect: he hands me my pen back.

I felt my jaw drop like it was made of led. I felt like a complete dunce starring at my beloved pen like a fish, but really, did you expect that? Did you? I was prepared for him to shove me inside a locker or snap my glasses in two.

"Are you going to take it or not?" he growled at me, snapping me back to the present.

Hurriedly I snatch the pen from his ginormous hand before he decides to run the pen through my neck. Or strangle me like a rag doll. I'm positive he could do either one, or a fabulous combination of both, before I could beg for his forgiveness.

"Why did you toss it at my fucking head?" he snapped at me. His tone kind of reminded me of the beast. You know from Beauty and the Beast. Except I'm not Belle; I'm not pretty enough, plus my personality is nothing like hers. Personality wise, I'm more of Ariel. Except I'm not a hoarder…

"I didn't," I argued, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. According to the world animals smell fear and go for the kill. "Thalia tossed it."

He considers this and said, "She's that one that mouthed to me, right?"

Aw, okay so he isn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but that was kind of cute.

Getting a closer look at him, besides facing my locker when him and his buddies strut down the hallways, I can see his handsome in his own way. He has a splatter of freckles on the bridge of his nose; I can tell he is muscular from his wide shoulders; his forehead juts out a bit, but I'm sure he'll eventually grow into that. Along with his big ears, they remind me of Dumbo. Not in an insulting way, just a: "Aw! I almost want to touch them!"

Suddenly, that's what I was doing. I reached up my hand and touched his ear. No, I'm not an ear-fetish. Just oddly impulsive.

"What the fuck!" he shouted, jumping away from me. He shot me a "What the hell is wrong with you, Freak?" face; his eyes were narrowed to slits. I take back what I said, he isn't cute. He's absolutely menacing! He's probably going to make me eat the pen Thalia chucked at his head!

I didn't answer him. Fight or flight kicked in, naturally I, Imogen Moreno, chose the safest one: flight. And let me tell you, I flew out of their faster than the Flash. I all but screamed bloody murder as I booked it to Simpson's office.

I'm pretty sure he could of caught up to me if he wanted to; he was pretty tall after all. Had at least a foot and a half on me. But thankfully he didn't.

Score:

Imogen: 0 Fates: 13

Thalia, for her part, had a riot when I told her I tugged Fitz's ear.

"Why the hell would you do such a ridiculous thing, Imogen Moreno?" she asked me between her snorts and giggles.

"I don't know. I just did." I said, angrily crossing my arms for laughing at my predicament. Honestly, what kind of best friend is she? It's her fault I will be in detention doing some horrible task.

She howls, slamming her tiny fists on the table, trying to catch her breath.

I know you're probably wondering how a girl like Thalia became my friend. In my defense the options were pretty limited, also Thalia was technically suppose to be a freshman. She took some overachievers aptitude test and they placed her in grade eleven. Even though I usually am a straight up loner; observing the people - or my "peers" of Degrassi Community High School, I pitied how no one would be her friend. Katie Matlin and Marisol Lewis can be pretty catty when they find a girl who can make them feel inferior.

So being the good soul I am, I took her under my wing. To be honest, she, like moi, have never really had a friend. She's to high strung on school, and I'm just not a people person. Ironically, no matter how much I observe interactions of those around me I'm flustered on how friendships and relationships work.

"Just count your blessings, Imo. I'm pretty sure he could kick your ass."

I sent her a vicious glare - at least, I hope it's vicious. I don't do mean faces well. I practice often in the mirror, but I can never get the fear-me-I-kill-you look. My angry face just makes me look constipated.

I opened the door for the detention room. Mr. Perino is sitting there reading a thick, boring looking book. From here I can read: Last of the Mohicans. Definitely a history teacher-type book.

Detention is like the forth dimension of hell, I swear. Especially on a Friday when Perino is watching us. He just reads and makes us do an essay or homework. Anything to keep up quiet so he can read boring books or plan lessons.

I like Dawes for detention. She always makes us do work; cleaning the desks; working on props for the play; organizing the art supplies. Something active.

I take a seat in the back and look around to see who is joining me on this pleasant Friday afternoon.

Owen Milligan, his face is already blank and bored; Owen, like Fitz, is kind of scary. I don't like him very much, he tossed Adam Torres through a door. I like Adam, he always asks me how my day is when we cross paths at our lockers. I know it's out of pity, since Thalia never stops by my locker, so he thinks I'm friendless.

Bianca SeSousa, texting away on her phone. Bianca is pretty hostile. She's thankfully never been hostile to me, but I'd never get on her bad side.

KC Guthrie is also here. All I know about him is that he cheated on Clare with her best friend and then hooked up with said best friend hours after their breakup. Those facts alone tell me he's pitiful swine, but that's just my opinion.

Okay, I know I appear stalkerish, but I'm not. I observe people. So yeah, I know a little more about people than they'd like, but I don't know everything. I'm not that creepy.

The door opens and I turn to see Fitz strutting in. Curse me for putting my hair up in my knots. If I let it down I could use the long brown locks to hide my face. I wonder if it'd be suspicious to stuff my head into my bag. Maybe I could fake a seizure.

Oh shit! Shitshitshitshitshit! He's sitting in front of me! No! Bad Fitzy! Don't sit in front of me!

Damn you Fates! Why do you hate me? What did I ever do to you?

Thankfully one of my Greek god friends pitied me because following behind Fitz is Ms. Dawes!

Thank you, Zeus!

I take it back, those fates hate me. Here I sit in an awkward silence with Fitz. Alone. In the art room.

Forced by Dawes to organize and do inventory on the art supplies. We didn't outright to decide to split up the work, it just happened. On opposite sides of the room; he by the door organizing the paint and colored pencils; I in the back of the room arranging glazes and clay in color order. It's rather boring, but what can you do?

I began humming a song, softly to not disturb him. Personally, I don't want to be impaled by an easel, or various sharp art tools.

"Will you stop!" he exclaimed.

I look up from a bottle of glaze to see him concentrating on paint colors.

"Sorry," I mumbled to my red converse with the polka dotted pattern. I felt my stomach growling, since I missed lunch. The whole fearing for my life and telling Thalia the tragedy of my events with Fitz in the hall made me lose my appetite. I walked over to where I left my bag and pull out the Nutter Butter's I thankfully packed that morning.

"Want one?" I asked him, it's the least I could do really. I did pull his ear after all.

He gives the package a suspicious look. Honestly, whatever substance I have hidden in this package can't be any worse than what he has done at the ravine. Pun definitely intended on that one.

With a shrug he took a cookie and sat down on a stool, I joined him. If someone walked in here we'd of looked like an odd duo: Menacing-looking Fitz and odd-looking Imogen Moreno.

I bobbed my head back and forth to the repetitive tune stuck in my head; drumming my fingers on the Formica desktop. He gave me an odd look.

"So…" I said, in a feeble attempt to break the awkward silence. I'm shit with human interactions, if you haven't already noticed.

"Why the fuck did you tug my ear earlier." He asked, not even easing into the question.

"I-I don't know," I muttered, observing my purple nails as if they were the most exciting thing in the world.

"How the fuck don't you know?" he asked, his tone nothing short of pissed.

"They're just look abnormally large on your head."

Score:

Imogen: -100 Fates: 67

He sent me a glare. If I thought the one he sent me when he thought I threw my pen was the essence of horror was, I was sadly mistaken.

"Freak," he muttered under his breath, then got up and went back to his work.

Author's Note: So for the most part, bad? Good? Feedback is love, dear reader. I'll try to have an update soon, but be sure to expect in the future: More Fitzmogen, Adam/Imogen interaction, Eli watching, Clare/Fiona/HJ/Anya/Mo/Wesley/Bianca interaction (Yes! I will have Imogen interact with almost everyone, I wanted Imogen to interact with these people (even though she did with Fi and Clare, but not enough for my liking) so badly. Oh, and more Thalia and Imogen frienship of course.

Thanks for reading all my rambles and chapter!