Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. This should be obvious by now.

Warnings: Rated "T" for language and thematic elements. I don't predict that I'll be upping the rating of this story any time soon.

A/N: I started contemplating this story a few years ago, back in the days of Season 4 and 5. This takes place in AU Season 4, after Islands in the Stream. The main reason I had for putting off writing this was working around the time line of this story in regards to the Degrassi universe and due to a little story line in Season 5 that made the originality factor go down. But regardless, after all of this time, I was still attached to this story. I project this to be rather short, maybe five to ten chapters. Reviews are wanted and loved!

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I used to think adolescence and being a teenager would be like, the pinnacle of my life. Emma and I would always snag issues of Teen People or Seventeen or Cosmogirl and marvel at like, what they told us being a teenage girl was like. It just seemed so perfect. I'd be able to wear all of these fashionable clothes and go on dates with cute boys and wield pom poms and just be this real life happy magazine spread. It'd just be so amazing. My life would be like these glossy little photos with perfect models with their perfect hair and their perfect clothes and their perfect smiles. Things would just be so magical. It was just this real life fairy tale that I hoped would come true.

Too bad it never happened.

I'm almost two years into high school right now and my life isn't worthy of a magazine spread. Having the reputation of a cheating baby killing whore isn't a magazine spread. There aren't any happy models, decked out in their fashionable attire. There's nothing but regrets. I mean, isn't that the point of high school? You get all of the stupid rebellious things out of your system before you're forced to grow up. Grow up, find a husband who can support you and treat you to all of the lavish things a good housewife gets. Have a few children. Smile at your children. Raise them and guide them. Yell at them when they slip up in the slightest. Resent them for not being as perfect as you hoped. Watch them and criticize them. Never blame yourself for their slip ups.

It's not as though sophomore year's been all that bad. It's not as though it's been all that great either. It's nothing to write home about. I just go through the motions of it all. Wake up, go to school, go to classes, smile and wave at everyone, cheer my ass off at Spirit Squad practice, go home, eat dinner, talk on the phone, do my homework, and fall asleep. Rinse and repeat until the weekends when I finally get a break from the monotony. I guess I should be thankful though. There's new scandals to cover up the ones that I caused last year. Hey, at least I did something right. No one can do a great scandal like Manny Santos. I have that star quality. I have that quality where you try not to look at me but you can't help it. I'm just a beautiful wreck who's been mending herself and repenting from her sins that she wore on her skin last year. I shed my skin.

But gone are the cat calls and the boys who just wanted me but could never have me. It's kind of a drag in that respects. It's not like during the summer, I caught the Ugly Virus and I'm now making the Elephant Man look like Brad Pitt. Please. But there has to be something wrong with me. Let's face it. JT and I broke up after…differences. JT may have been comfortable but good lord, the boy needs to be introduced to maturity. Such a difficult concept. It's okay though, we've licked our wounds and made nice with one another. We smile and wave to one another in the hallways with a side dish of awkwardness added to the equation. We ask each other what the English homework was. We're like co-workers who had a little bit too much to drink at the Christmas party and hooked up in the copy room. There's no resentment, just this gap between us. There's no going back and erasing anything.

Sure, there was Spinner Mason. Could you just imagine the confidence boost I got when I learned that Paige dumped him because he was totally enamored with me? I had spent so many years sucking up to Paige and licking her boots and just wanting to be her. She ruled Degrassi with a manicured iron fist. She was like a goddess that sat on her heavenly cloud and talked smack about everyone and anything. I envied her. Then her beloved boyfriend gets a hard on for me and poof, someone's not so much of a goddess anymore and hit her ass on the ground after her cloud disappeared. Sure, Spinner was no Craig but he was good enough. And I was good enough for him. It was a perfect match.

Up until Paige and Spinner got back together and Spinner decided he just wanted to be "friends" with me. Paige likes to look at me, all smugly and powerful. I could go and tell her that I let Spinner feel me up when we went on a date to the movies also known as where the Queen Bitch worked. However, she still would one up me. I can never catch a damn break. I guess that's the story of my life.

I was always sort of self conscious of my body. Sure, I loved showing it off with skimpy pieces of clothing and letting the guys fantasize about what I must look like when I lose all of the clothes. However, when they stopped looking, I just…didn't know why. I had lost that tantalizing almost pin up girl reputation that I had in Grade Nine. Boys stopped looking. They stopped noticing me. The world no longer stopped when I wanted it to. Sure, I wasn't…like, ugly. I can point out so many girls that I look better than but I can also point out so many girls that look better than me. For once, couldn't I just be the prettiest one? Everyone has their niche in high school. Would it be so wrong that I could be one of those pretty shiny people that are envied by everyone and it would last more than five seconds? I mean, god. I felt like I was fading away. I felt like I was slowly turning back into my stupid innocent little twit that I had been previously to Grade Nine. I would die before I became that girl again. That girl was stupid and blissfully oblivious to the world. I was no longer that girl. I could never be that girl again. But part of me missed the innocence of my previous years. I missed it when the world was shiny and new and everything just seemed so beautiful and there was just so much beauty that I would soak up as soon as I woke up. Then I woke up and that fairy tale of a perfect world was something I knew was fake. There was no prince charming. There was no Cinderella. There were no storybook endings. Things happened. Life was painful.

It's not like I'm a walking made for television movie. I don't have an eating disorder or anything tragic and cliché like that. I eat. I mean, you have to eat so you can live and breathe. It's common sense. I swear, I can feel Emma's eyes burning into my back when I excuse myself after shoving the gross contents of my lunch tray down my throat. I go to the bathroom. I check to make sure no one's around. God forbid they have some negative ammo against me. I put my fingers down my throat. I vomit into the toilet. It adds up over time. I mean, with all of the calories that I don't digest, I can watch the pounds melt away. It's like my own version of Atkins or the South Beach Diet and I can eat anything I want.

We all have to have our secrets. That's what makes life interesting, no?

My dull and dreary Saturday night gains momentum after I get an invite to a party from Spinner. We're still friends, after all. His parents are out of town and Kendra's staying at a friends so no one's the wiser to the debauchery that's going to take place at the Mason household. Naturally, Spinner just had to call me right when I was brushing my teeth after I had bid the dinner I had goodbye in the toilet as it flushed away. Timing was really never that guy's forte. Everyone who's everyone arrives at the Mason household. Jocks. Cheerleaders. Members of the elite social groups. Me, in a denim skirt that I hope flatters my curves that I hope are fading into oblivion.

"Manny, hon, that outfit looks sensational," Paige chirps as she leans her shoulder into Spinner. I know Paige's game. I modeled mine after hers. She knows how to subtlety push people's buttons. Paige Michalchuk is the fucking Picasso of this art form. "I mean, who knew that something off the sales rack could look that good?"

I flash her a fake smile. It's artificial and sees through her bullshit and wants to claw her face out because she's just dangling Spinner in front of me like some sort of hunky forbidden fruit. God, I hate her. "Thanks, Paige," I chirp, imitating her usually degrading tone just perfectly. I've always been a wonderful actress. "And thanks for the invite, Spin. I hope I'll see you later," I add, in a subtle flirtatious way as I saunter away from the happy couple. God, I hope they get into a fight over that. How awesome would that be?

But instead of waiting for the hoped for wreckage, I plop onto the Mason living room couch and try to disappear into it, beer cup in hand. I watch the people move to the music playing on the stereo, almost like ocean waves before they crash into the land. People converse and I fill in the blanks as to what the hot topic of conversation is. Among all of the joy and fun, there's one lone argument filtering through the carefree atmosphere. It's funny, I've always been so much on the side of prying eyes. People have watched me. It's funny for me to be on the other side. It's odd how simply beautiful people can look but be so incredibly ugly underneath. It's more sad than funny, to be perfectly honest. We're all so good at putting a filter on our lives. We don't filter our bullshit out that makes people believe we're okay and we're better than them. Honesty is dead and buried. No one knows anyone or anything. That's the sad reality of it all.

"Is anyone sitting here?" Sometime has passed since I staked out the couch as my sanctuary.

A polite soul. Someone who might just so happen to be genuine and kind. That person must be a rare and dying breed.

I shrug. "No, it's fine. Sit." The voice is recognizable and familiar. I mean, it would be to anyone who walks the halls of Degrassi. We've had acquaintances and friends in common but it's not as though we've had one on one quality time. But he's never been one of those people who have ridiculed me or judged me or anything. We're familiar strangers. And now we're sharing a couch.

He falls carelessly onto the couch as I peek over my shoulder. A drunken Jimmy Brooks sits next to me, beer bottle in hand as he guzzles it down. The famous smile that everyone usually sees plastered on his flawless face is mysteriously absent. He looks sad and empty. It's almost heart breaking.

"Um. Is anything wrong," I ask delicately.

He laughs, almost sadly and bitterly. "Hazel and I got into a fight. She dumped me. Everyone's just great," He slurs. It's obvious he's been knocking them back. I mean, it's not as though I thought Jimmy Brooks was this saint. It's a party. However, I don't know why someone would knock back several beers over Hazel. She's Paige's lap dog. She's only popular by association. She licks Paige's boots and succumbs to all of her commands and wishes. I can see a bit of myself in Hazel Aden and that makes me hate myself a little bit. I thought I was better and stronger than that. Guess I was wrong.

"Oh," I say carefully. "I'm sorry about that."

He shrugs casually, as if he didn't get his heart totally and completely broken. Anyone who goes to Degrassi knows there's just something so beautifully care free about Jimmy Brooks. He just glides through life but you can tell that he's totally and completely for all of the fortunes that he receives whether it be popularity, good looks, or sensational basketball skills. You can't help but like the guy.

"Thanks," He says appreciatively. "It's whatever though, you know? I think the whole thing was a long time coming."

I fondle the empty beer cup in my hands, fidgeting a little bit. It's a little bit unnerving to have someone talk to me like that, oh so candidly. Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's just how Jimmy Brooks is, in general. I wouldn't know. We're connected by a game of telephone and six degrees of separation. Jimmy Brooks is a god of popularity, like the celebrity that all of the regular old people want to meet but never do.

"Oh," I respond, nervously. "What do…you mean by that?" The only thing I can do is really ask questions. Questions with answers that I wouldn't dare to guess. Questions with answers that I'm hearing first hand. I could throw it in Hazel's stupid face, that her boyfriend vented to me and took comfort in my company a mere few minutes after their relationship was demolished and then some. Sure, I have no problem with committing crimes against the female species. My past tiffs with Emma, Ashley Kerwin, and Paige Michalchuk aren't national secrets that someone wants to keep under lock and key. Girls are catty and conniving. We're superficial and we decimate each other's self esteem with a few well placed insults.

Guys don't do that to each other though. Someone maybe gets punched and then all is forgiven with a simple "Sorry, bro" and a pat on the back. There's no false pretenses. There's no bullshit. Guys don't take it upon themselves to have friendships that benefit one another socially or walk over people to get what they want. They don't talk smack about one another once someone's back is turned. There's this raw honesty between them. If only they could give us girls that raw honesty but I guess they can't afford that.

"It was almost like we got together because it seemed natural, you know," He starts off, candidly and with a hint of beer laden honesty. "And we had some good times. I can't lie and say we didn't. Hazel's a great girl and all but…it just felt like we were standing still. I guess she felt the same way too. That doesn't mean it hurt any less though." He looks at me for a moment, his eyes settling on me and living on me. For a moment, they just reside there before he turns away. "Yeah, uh. Don't mind me. I just needed to let it all out. I didn't mean to tell you my whole life story."

I smile politely, "No, it's cool. I'm a good listener. But…I know how it goes. JT and I went through the same thing. Even though we broke up and I dumped him, it didn't mean that it sucked any less. Especially considering we'd been friends since we were back in elementary school." I pause, still fiddling around with the lone and empty beer cup. "It gets easier though," I say in my best comforting voice.

"Yeah," He nods before locking eye contact with me for a moment. This is one of those rare and honest moments that you have with a person. One of those moments that you'll just have burned in your brain. This is probably the most honest I've been with a guy ever. I know Jimmy Brooks, even while drunk and dumped, isn't the kind of guy to just look at me and think of me as just a piece of ass. Maybe I've been looking in the wrong direction and at all of the wrong guys. Sully. Craig. JT. Spinner. Maybe this is some sort of sign. Or maybe this is the confessions of a drunk guy to the only poor sap who would listen to them. Maybe…

"Brooks," a voice comes up and out of nowhere as I'm sitting here, staring at Jimmy Brooks and lost in my own little world. I jolt back into reality, seeing Marco Del Rossi standing in front of us. "Designated Marco has arrived. Get up and let's blow this popsicle stand. You know, if you're still feeling down, we can go back to my place and watch Saved By the Bell---"

Jimmy laughs at Marco's suggestion as he gets up. "Thanks but no thanks. I just wanna get home and crash. I have practice early tomorrow." Of course, they start to walk away from the couch. It's not like I came with either of them and Marco and I aren't best friends at the moment. Plus, heart broken drunk friend surely triumphs his best friend's ex fling.

"Manny," Jimmy turns around. "You need a ride?"

"The more the merrier," Marco adds as the two of them look back in my general direction. I look around for a moment. Leaving would be a godsend right about now. Sully just broke a vase while Spinner flips his lid at him. Heather Sinclaire is grinding up against an anonymous football player. People are head banging to Spinner's Jimmy Eat World CD that he used to play in the car whenever we went out. I totally and completely hate that stupid CD but not as much as I hate seeing Craig and Ashley all cozy. Jimmy and Marco have provided me with an exit strategy. This is the best chance I have at getting out of here before this party becomes the total epitome of everything I hate.

"No, I'm fine," I spit out, unexpectedly. "Liberty's coming to pick me up." Total lie. I walked to this party but there's some sort of block I have that's preventing me from going and hitching a ride with Jimmy and Marco. God knows what it is.

"Oh, okay. See you, Santos," Marco bids his goodbyes while Jimmy gives me a nod and waves as they blow this joint. I'm left alone with nothing but the throbbing sounds of Bleed American and the drunk shenanigans of those around me to keep me company. I toss my red plastic cup into a lone garbage bag, sagging down onto the floor and with its contents about to burst out and litter about on the previously clean living room rug.

Now I know what it's like to feel stuck. Literally.