I Want To Save You
A/N: Yay my first Spanny. Love them Spanny kids. Ok, so it's Spanny turned Tobanny. Hey, I didn't pull that out my ass. Check out Islands in the Stream and Back in Black.. Manny's definitly a doll to Tobes. I like her now. More.
Review.
Discalim: "I Want To Save You" Soco. The lyrics in the first part are from New Found Glory's "Ballad for the Lost Romantics." Epitome ctv Degrassi.
-o-n-e--s-h-o-t--s-p-i-n-n-e-r--m-a-n-n-y--t-o-b-y-
I push my hair out of my eyes and roll onto my back. It's cold in his room, maybe because it's November. But it's always cold in his room, who am I kidding? He's the king of cruelty at Degrassi, so it only fits that it would be cold. He's cold. Too cold.
His skin is a kind of pale that brings out his spots of baby fat even more when he's lying next to me. I stare at the freckles in these places, mentally playing connect the dots, waiting for him to kick me out like he does every night. I'm still cold, but I don't dare cuddle under the blankets anymore. No movement, or he'll get pissed.
It doesn't matter anyways. He turns towards me, pulling the blanket to his waist. He never gets cold. Not even in this dauntingly frigid icicle he calls a room. "Manny," he whispers into my hair, "you need to leave now."
It's always the same night after night. I come, hoping tonight he'll realize that he needs me more than he's let on before. And every night, he doesn't even try to hide the contempt when he tells me that I've stayed too long already. That he'll get caught. But I think he's more scared that he'll actually learn to need me if I stay.
I stand up and stretch in front of him. I pick up my clothes that I had left in a neat pile next to my side of the bed. I put them on slowly, trying not to breathe, avoiding inhaling the scent of sex that permeates every inch of this damn place.
Before, there was a time when I thought "the smell of sex" was just an expression. That somewhere felt like it had been "used" so they said it smelled like sex, when really it was just a feeling. After my first time and everytime after that, I realized how wrong I was. Sex does have a scent. A very distinct scent that, to me, is the most ungodly one on the planet.
The scent leaves something on my skin, a tangible film of sorts. It's sticky on me, but it's barely recognizable unless you dwell on it. I dwell. It's a part of me to feel guilty after sex, and this film... it's like my punishment. It's my physical reminder of how god awful a human being I am.
I pull my hair tightly against my head. Spinner's cd player is on; it's always on. I recognize the singer as New Found Glory. I've hung out with the punk losers long enough that I've learned their sounds. It's so disheartening. These lyrics, however, are thoughtful, pensive, amazingly heartfelt. I brush stray pieces of hair up into my mess as the words fill the room silently.
"I'm pushing myself out,
Holding in my breath.
I can't take this lightly.
Throwing up the words that I said to you.
I always do, do what I'm not supposed to.
Here's to us fools,
That have no meaning,
I tip my glass to you.
Let's toast the night away to friends,
And forget about tomorrow."
I'm so caught up in it's relevance to my thoughts, my life, that I've forgotten to obey the only rule. Get out when he tells you. Do not hesitate. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. "Close the door on your way out," he mumbles, almost incoherently but with an undertone of a menacing heir. As I watch him, scared for what?, he turns over and falls into a quick sleep, I imagine.
I do as he asks, and slide quietly against his bedroom door after I do so. I breathe the sigh of relief I had been trapping. I love you so much, Spinner Mason. You need me. Just admit it.
"Standing on the edge of morning,
Scent of sex and New Found Glory,
Playing as she's pulling back her hair."
I throw the Cougar into drive and burn rubber as I peel out of his driveway. So what if it wakes up his mom? It's not like she'd do anything to the shining star of that shithole. Spinner Mason should be the black sheep. But no, he's wonderful. He has pretty girlfriends and rich best friends, and he goes out more than Kendra. Hell, he's actually her son. Every damn thing that boy does is lamenated and added to the Hall of Spinner.
And what do I have to go home to? Parents who have barely looked at me since my abortion. A dad who threatens to kick me out over every little thing. Brothers who look down their noses on me, that is when they take the time to get their heads out of their asses. But my parents still adore them. Antonio, the oldest, hell his name even means "worthy of praise." Coincidence, parents?
So, if my parents hate me so much, why did I get a car for my 16th birthday? Dad says it's because he had a good year at the store. Mom just smiled at me and gave me another one of her huge hugs. God, I hate them. So fake, so sympathetic, so her wanting to reconnect with me. After I traumatized her, never the other way around. That's why I got it. Because I traumatized her, and she needs her little girl back. She's trying to buy that little girl back.
But I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm going to boys' houses at 2 in the morning and staying until they are satisfied. I'm given no consideration about my own wants and needs. I've come to believe that I don't have any. If I do, I'm not supposed to. I know this. I'm not as stupid as they think I am.
God, I just want him to be different. I want him to hold me, to need my companionship all through the night. I want him to be unable to sleep without my warm body next to him in his piercingly raw room.
But, as for now, I'm going to take what I can get. Without this little bit of light in my dismal universe, I'm without. Don't bite the hand that feeds, Manny. You don't deserve the simple pleasures that most girls get. You don't deserve any of it.
"She drives away she's feeling worthless, Used again but nothings different.
She'd stay the night but knows he doesn't care."
I park the jet black Cougar next to my brother's dirtied SUV. All he's ever wanted. The simple things, the things most people can be content with. Some people are just destined for greatness. They're the ones with the most wants, even if they can't express their wants very well.
I gather my things from where I haphazardly tossed them into the passenger's seat. A beautiful new cell phone that I've already developed a deep hatred for, my semi-new purple cloth purse that I got because Spinner had called it "a pretty color," and my keys hanging off of pink Roxy lanyard.
I stumble foolishly as I make my way up our darkened path. Of course they forgot the porch light; they'd like to pretend that I've been asleep, warm in my own bed the whole time. If you really loved me so much, mom, stop buying things for me. I don't deserve them. Give me a curfew, and ground me when I break it.
The door squeaks open, and I silently enter the foyer. Why silently? It's not like they don't know that I was gone all night. It's not like my shoes squeaking would send everyone into a great hysteria. But I'm still silent. So silent, I want to scream to break it's deafening curse on me. He's silent when he fucks me. He doesn't make a single noise. He did at first, and I will admit that I didn't care for it, but the silence is so much worse.
I climb the steps to my room, each one more silent and threatening than the next. I'm not scared of any living thing at the top, just of my thoughts. I walk past the seemingly lifeless form of my brother sprawled in his boxers, clutching his pillow, mouth moving but no noises emerging. I look in disgust for a few seconds before pressing on to my room.
My door opens silently, and I'm pissed. Why can't it squeak like normal doors? I close it behind me. It doesn't matter; the silence is present either way. I take off my sex-stained clothes and toss them next to the hamper. I find an old t-shirt that's going to double for my bed shirt tonight. I crawl under the covers, but not even the warmth makes up for the silence of my room, the screaming of my thoughts.
Tears threaten to spill over onto my pillow, as they try every night, but I hold them back again. The simple act of spilling tears would be enough to tear apart this family by the seams. All I have to do is admit that there's a problem for everyone to suddenly turn on me. As long as it looks okay, it is okay.
But it's never going to be anywhere close to okay.
"Home by three to deafening quiet.
The porch lights off, guess they forgot it.
She'd cry herself to sleep, but she don't dare."
I grab my purse and bag and get out of my car in a huff. I turn to close the door, and I inadvertantly hit someone. "Sorry! I am so sorry," I say turning into Toby. I smile at him.
"'s okay," he says shrugging it off. "I've been hit worse."
I sling my pack over my shoulder, and we begin to trek towards the looming building. "How was your weekend?" I ask.
"Boring. I was going to call you on Saturday to see if you wanted to go see a movie or something. But, then J.T. called. It was stupid though; all we did was play video games with Danny."
I search my mind, trying to remember what I did Saturday. "You should've, I just stayed home and watched a movie. Cute too. A foreign romance movie. You would've liked it." And then went to Spinner's and had sex. But that was way, way later.
We start up the front stairs. "Why? Do you think I'm gay or something?"
I laugh at him. "No, I guess I just wanted some company." He holds the door open, and we head towards our lockers. "How is J.T. anyways?" Ah, Manny, slyly trying to find out how your ex-boyfriend is. Ask his friend, even though he's standing right over there.
"Fine, I guess. Calmed down, a little," Toby says as he kneels at his locker. I lean against a neighboring locker and wait for him.
Good. "Good." I smile at J.T., but not an inviting smile. Just enough to let him know I don't hate him. "Dr. Sally's coming in today, isn't she?"
Toby stands with a few books in hand, and we start towards my locker. "Yea, she'll be in Armstrong's room. If you want, I'll walk you."
I nod and glance around quickly to see if Spinner's near. He's not, so I might as well go to class now. Early. We grab seats in the back and flick a paper football around while we wait for the rest of the class to file in. Liberty sits in front of me, which is shocking since she's usually first desk, middle row.
Dr. Sally comes in with a huge bag of "sexual goodies" as J.T. calls them, loud enough for the entire class to hear. Toby smirks for his friend since no one else seems to give him a second thought, like usual. Toby then turns to me with a sympathetic look, but I get it. You have to take one for the team sometimes. You have to laugh at the painfully un-funny, and you have to forgive those who do. It's high school; you have to make a few sacrifices or you'll never make it out alive.
"Ahh, Degrassi grade 10's. So much information I know you just can't wait to absorb. Today, I'm going to be talking and answering questions about teenage pregnancy." Do you know that one moment in time when you know all eyes are on you, and you wish it were physically possible for you to melt into a puddle of water and dissipate, Alex Mac style? I always figured my moment was when Ashley announced my pregnancy to the entire cafeteria. How utterly wrong I was.
I hide in my seat pretty well for the first half of the discussion, with more than a little help from Toby. Then, she started on the worst subject she could. And my breaking point was almost reached. "A lot of girls think the only option they have is abortion. Why they would think this, I don't know. Abortion is a serious decision, and should only be considered if every other option seems impossible."
Liberty turns around and gives me a knowing smile. No, Liberty. Don't do it. "Why did you have an abortion, Manny?"
The class stops. My world stops. This is a scene from my nightmare. Everyone turns and looks at me intently for an answer, including Dr. Sally. She's intrigued; I'm burdened to no extent. "I... I had dreams. I wanted, I want to be a model, or a fashion designer. I want to make something of myself. I didn't want to be pregnant at 14. More than that, I really didn't want to have a baby at 15."
I inhale deeply, but the stares don't stop. They want more. What else can I say? I've already told them my truth. Liberty opens her mouth, about to say something else to put me on the spot. I can't take it anymore. Breaking point has been reached. "Excuse me," I say as I stand up and make a v-line for the door. "I have.. to go. Now."
I fall against a row of lockers and let myself lie there, crying. There's no point going to the bathroom; it's probably more crowded in there than this deserted hallway. The classroom door opens. It's J.T., I know it before even looking. Still trying to be the boyfriend he could never be while we dated. It's pathetic, really.
But, looking up, I see it's not J.T. It's Toby. I allow myself to break down again, with the unspoken promise that he won't tell a soul.
"And she wants to be a model, She wants to hear she's beautiful.
She's beautiful."
-POV Change :Toby: POV Change-
I sit down to her, but not next to her, that would be too weird. "I didn't want to," she sobs over and over. I tell her that I know, that I understand. I don't know if I fully understand; it would be easier for the whole mass if everyone just forgot it. But this is high school. No one forgets. We're too young to forget. We're at the perfect age to dwell on everything. Every little goddamn thing.
It seemed like forever until she gave in to her final sniffles and wiped off her face with a sleeve. "The bell's going to ring soon," she tells me matter-of-factly. As if I was the one sobbing in the hallway, as if I was the one stalling to get out of sex ed, as if I was the one who wanted to stay here until hoards of teenagers stampeded over me.
I guess, maybe, for her, I was.
And that's the crazy thing. I never remember feeling anything other than platonic love for Manny Santos. She was always that little girl with cute pigtails who I talked to because of her close connection to my first Degrassi crush, Emma. When she made her mistakes, I really did feel bad. I talked to her, tried to help her through what I was sure was one of the hardest things she's ever gone through. It wasn't this secret crush, though, it was general care for her well being. She was, is, always will be Manny Santos. You don't let someone like that just break without a fight for her.
As soon as we stand up, the bell rings and the class fills out. I try to usher her down the hallway without anyone seeing, but it's too late. J.T. and Liberty, although they were in the back of class, are some of the first ones out. J.T. gives me a harsh look. Doesn't he know I can't help it? I know he was with her first, but he never tried to save her. He didn't care. God, he never cares. About anything. About himself maybe, but that's it.
He shakes his head at me before I turn around. I walk closely beside Manny, trying to get her to avoid the looks, the whispers. She's broken again. Tell all your friends.
"I want to save you.
I want to save you.
I need you, to save me, too.
I want to save you."
-POV Change :Manny: POV Change-
Everytime he says "tonight" with that gleam of a horny chihuahua in his eye, I know what I should say. No, right? I am whoring myself. But I end up just saying maybe, teasing with him. He knows I'll come. It's not rocket science. I always come.
I am Manny Santos. It is my civic duty to whore myself out for the general good of the people. Alright, I know that sounds crazy and completely sarcastic, but in most ways, it's not. This is what I have. This is what I'm good at, what I know what to do. You can't just turn back time and make yourself a virgin again. You take the hand that you're given; that's what life is.
But the second your opponent renigs, you jump on that chance like a ravaged beast. Life doesn't have to suck. You can get out.
I'm in his bed again. It's not as cold tonight, maybe only 0 instead of 20 under. Things seem to be coated in happiness, but it's still not close. It's as close as I get with him. This is the reason I put up with being placed in the back of formation on the squad. This is why I get the phone calls at midnight telling me that I'm going to hell because I'm a stupid tramp. This is why I haven't had a real female friend in months. But without it, I think I'd stop breathing.
I get up this time without him asking. I put on my clothes slowly and quietly. I pull back my hair and listen to the quiet beat of Simple Plan. I stand at his dresser for awhile, staring at him through the mirror. His breathing is calm and smooth, as if he's already fallen into a deep sleep. His body beckons me, but I refuse it.
I walk out of his room and find the way to my car without light. I sit and stare at his darkened window. I can't believe that my entire life revolves around that window, that room, and this darkness. God, when did I get so royally fucked?
"Dressed by dawn and out the door.
No light, she memorized the floor,
So she could leave without being detected."
I cross and un-cross my legs in another bored attempt to have something to do. I look down at my tattered copy of 'A Streetcar Named Desire.' Good book, but I was definitly not in the mood for Stella and Stanley bullshit right now. Especially not after dealing with Spinner's bullshit all night.
Thinking about it again, I have to seriously suppress the urge to throw my green tea against the register. Taking a deep breath, I restrain myself to simply clicking my press-on nails against the bottle. A customer comes into the corner convenience store, and I smile politely and turn back to my book. Damn my dad for making me work here. Damn him to hell.
I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. I hold the book in my left hand, but I stare at the words for a good five minutes without registering one of them. One is the lonlinest number... Okay, stop thought singing. Get back to reading. I have to read. I have a massive, 800 point test on this tomorrow.
I wonder how Spinner's doing with it. Maybe I should call? No, I can't call. Not after last night. I mean, it's my fault. I know better than to ask if I can stay over. But, still, he didn't have to get so controlling and angry. I couldn't even cry. My boyfriend practically took away my self-worth, I mean he slapped me, and I can't cry about it.
The bell rings, and my head shoots up instinctivly. Somewhere, in some part of my head, I'm still hoping he's going to come in with a dozen roses and change my life. But, it's just another middle aged mother on her way home, picking up a gallon of milk and a carton of eggs. Or some other generic, non-life altering thing.
Rubbing my temples, I turn my attention back to the book. The paragraphs, the dialouge, the descriptions, the words. They jumble together on the page, and I feel so dyslexic I could scream. I look over the top of the book to the clock, but it seems to stand still, yet still make the clicking noise as the seconds supposively ticked away.
"She works til three it's uniform.
She dreams that he'll come by the store.
She prays for days when boys mean she's protected."
-POV Change :Toby: POV Change-
"So, if you didn't have anything better to do, you could go to a movie with me tonight? Maybe?" I ask casually into the receiver. It's not a date. Toby Isaacs does not go on dates with Manny Santos. Especially not when her current boyfriend is very large and very threatening. It's just Toby and Manny, hanging out.
"I'm free," she says sweetly. "It'll be just us, then?"
Wait. Was that accusatory? Does she not want to go with just me? True, it might be awkward, but we're friends. This is the kind of things that friends do. "Um, yea. Is that ok?"
"Yup. I was just making sure you weren't trying to sneak J.T. in. Or he was trying to sneak himself in. You know. Just checking."
J.T.? Uh, yea, right. "Nah, I wouldn't do that to you."
She laughs a little. "I know you wouldn't. But J.T. would. I'm not in the mood to deal with people. Except you, of course."
"Of course," I answer without missing a beat. "Is six good for you? We could stop somewhere, grab a bite."
"Sounds good. I guess I'll see you at six," she responds. I can almost hear her flagrant disregard for our date by the tone of her voice. But it's not a date. It's two people hanging out.
"Six," I respond. "I'll be at your house at six."
"Right," she says laughing a little. "Six. Hey, I'm in the middle of painting my toenails, so I'll just see you tonight."
"At six right?" I try to make a joke out of the 'saying-six-at-least-six-times' fiasco.
"Yea," she says, getting a little pissed at this point. "S-i-x."
I nod, but soon realize she can't see my nods over the phone. "Right. I'll see you then." Click. Okay, now to find something decently wearable. Something that may somehow mask the fact that I am Toby Isaacs, and I have a date with a Degrassi beauty. If she had any self-confidence, I would never have a chance. Thank God for abortions.
"And she wants someone to see her,
She needs to hear she's beautiful.
She's beautiful."
"Six-oh-two," she says opening the door. "You're late."
I smile and nod at her as I ascend the single step from the porch to the foyer in the front of the house. "Sorry I'm not as punctual as you, Ms. Santos."
"Oh you should be," she says giving me a sarcastically wry smile. She grabs her coat off a rack by the door. "I'm going out," she calls. She waits a few seconds but gets no response. She shrugs and starts out the door. "They're borderline deaf," she says in means of an explanation.
"I feel you on that one," I say stuffing my hands deep inside my coat pockets.
She flashes me a shy smile. She glances over at my slightly used(that's the nice way of putting it) red Cavalier. Hell, it's not much, but at least it's something. After Ash's little hissy, she got a $12,000 car. But I'm not Ash. I'm not perfect, and I'm not good at hissy fits at all. So I was pleased with my car. It's not much, but it runs. "Do you want to take mine?" she asks, trying to mask the insult with a sugar coating.
I glance at my baby again, but look back to her in defeat. "That's fine."
We stand at the front of the theatres, looking at the meager choices again. We had decided on a quick Chinese-catered dinner at the food court, but we were still already late for about half the choices that were playing.
"Hilary Duff's hot," I say, trying to get her to lean towards the movie staring that actress.
She turns to me with a disgusted look plastered on her face. "She's such a pretentious wannabe. I'm never going to that, just give it up. What about the Johnny Depp psychological thriller? Johnny Depp is a total hottie, and you could always do with a good thought-provoking movie."
"I read some reviews, and they looked a bit down on it."
"I never trust reviews," she says with raised eyebrows.
I give in. I have to. Have you seen those eyes? They'll get you everytime. "On second thought," I say pulling my wallet from my back pocket, "Johnny Depp is a total hottie."
The movie, as I had expected, was a letdown from the beginning. I wanted to tell Manny that the guy was just a figment of Johnny Depp's imagination, but I could never ruin it for her. She seemed genuinely interested in it.
Whereas the movie was a total disaster, the company was fantastic. I don't think I've been told to shut up so many times during a movie. We're still laughing hysterically at some inside joke as she pulls into her driveway.
We get out, and I walk her to the door. "Tonight was great. I'm still wondering why we haven't done this before. See," I say gesturing to the air around me, "no J.T."
She laughs. "Yea, it was really great. I haven't had that much fun in, well, a really long time."
She turns towards the door and puts her key in. "Wait," I say gently touching her arm. She turns towards me with a questioning look. I stare at her one last time, but I can't do it. Every fiber in my being is screaming at me to kiss her, but I can't seem to get one of my muscles to work. "Good night," I say. I lean in and give her a hug.
Because that's what friends do. They hug and they laugh, but they don't ever kiss. That's crossing the line.
"I want to save you.
I want to save you.
I need you, save me too.
I want to save you."
I walk past all the same rooms that I do every night, but I don't bother to be silent. I don't walk on my toes; instead every part of my foot hits the ground with every step. I walk into my room, and my door clicks when I close it.
I fall into my bed, making a small thump. I don't bother to take off my sex-stained clothes tonight; I'd rather lie in my own filth. My teeth chatter against each other, but I'm too lazy to climb under the covers and make myself warm.
So, Toby Isaacs loves me. Not like he'd ever come out and say it, because he's Toby, but how obvious is it. All this time I thought he was talking for J.T., but he's been the one harboring a crush for me. That's a new one, really. It's mind boggling.
I'm Manny Santos. Guys like Toby are supposed to have crushes on me. That's not a new one at all. That's actually the oldest one in the book. But, the thing is, girls like me, you know, they're not supposed to like him back. I'm not saying I do, exactly, but it's weird.
I know I had more fun with him tonight than when I went to Spinner's. And I know that Spinner and I won't be together forever, or much longer. I know that when Toby looked at me like the only thing he's ever wanted was to kiss me, that I felt so deeply connected that I almost had the courage to cry.
It's too late to redeem myself, though. I'm always going to be who I am. Even if I do change, no one will remember that. Everyone will always remember me as the little slut who got pregnant at 14. That is who I was destined to be. I'm a walking Dr. Sally lesson. "Here you go kids, here's how not to act." In a few years, Degrassi will be offering the course "Manny Santos 101" where you can sit there and learn from my mistakes. But I haven't even learned from my mistakes.
I let out a few whimpers. It's time to let it all out. Tears flow steadily now, and I have yet to find any power that will stop them.
My body shakes, but I'm not sure if it's from my crying or the cold. I've lived too long like this. But I can't stop. I've tried stopping. I have nothing to do when I'm not with guys. I just, hang out with other guys. It's this ridiculous never-ending power that I'm not sure I want to live without. What kind of life would that be, anyways?
I just need to stop crying so much. I'm such a baby.
"And she won't sleep.
She won't sleep,
And she won't sleep at all."
The sun reflects off the snow, blinding me as I walk from my car to school. Have I mentioned lately how much I despise winter? Especially Canadian winters. If you can't tell by looking at me, I'm not exactly a cold weather girl.
I hurry to Spinner's locker as soon as I'm inside the school. He's sitting on the floor, furiously working on two day late math homework. "Hey," I say when my feet are parallel with his.
He looks up. "Hey," he answers.
I point to the locker. "I left my sweater in there. It's really cold." He moves out of the way, and with a quick flick of his wrist, opens the locker for me, too. "Thanks," I answer as I put my arms through it. I pull it over my head as I sit close to him on the floor.
He kisses me as soon as I sit down. The same old show everyday. The same show that humors the fantasies of every Degrassi student, and the same show that keeps Paige at bay, exactly where Spinner needs her to be. The same show that Spinner thinks quells my own guilt of being with him almost every night when there's no love. Yea, that show.
"Hard?" I ask, referring to his math.
"Not really, but if we find a janitor's closet, I'm sure you could make it that way."
I laugh at his absurdly rude humor. God, I hate him. "I meant the math."
"Yea, borderline impossible. Armstrong's a nazi."
I notice Toby walk past the grade 11 locker hall to our's. "I have a lot of homework, too. Maybe I should go start on it."
He wraps his arm around me. "No, I want you to stay here."
Time's ticking, Manny. Make your decision. "Sorry babe, but I'll see you at lunch."
I give him a quick peck on the lips before finding my way out of the crowded hallway. I see Toby as soon as I walk into our hall and give him a slight wave.
"Hey," he says coming up behind me at my locker.
"Hey," I reply, not bothering to turn around. Who else talks to me? Yea, that's right, no one.
"We still on for skating tonight?"
"It's opening night, of course I'll be there!" The one thing I can stand about Canadian winters: the wonderful feeling of gliding on ice. And hopefully this year, my ice memories will be better than last year's.
I feel my days go a whole lot easier when there's anticipation for the night. I focus all my energy on it, and then I forget where I am mostly. Not good for my school work, but it works wonders on my sanity.
So by the time he picks me up at 7, I am so pumped for tonight, that I'm actually considering that I should make myself like this forever. I mean, make myself happy. It's as simple as telling Spin how I feel, and finally letting myself be happy with someone not expected.
Toby on skates is a wondefully hilarious thing. Let's face it, the boy is not the most coordinated thing on the planet. I let him lean on me for support so he doesn't fall over.
"Thanks," he says with a grateful smile.
My smile lies only in my eyes. "No problem."
He grabs onto my hand a few minutes later, trying to stop himself from falling again. His warmth fills my body, but I shake his hand off. I haven't decided yet, stop pressuring me.
I have to give him credit for a full twenty minutes without falling, but his first fall is hilarious. I laugh so hard, that I almost knock myself over while helping him up. I tilt my head back in one final laugh when I see him.
Spinner's standing at the gate between the rink and the outside, staring intently. He puts his hand up in a wave when he sees me. Dumbfounded, I put my hand up, too.
His presence here attracts me to him like a magnet. I don't remember making any movement, but within seconds, my feet are gliding towards him. I'm in some weird zone, but something penetrates it and breaks my concentration. The word "don't" is distinctly registered in my subconcious.
I turn away from Spinner and look back. Toby's standing, one arm outstretched with his palm faced up and open. I skate back towards him, afraid. I don't know why. A feeling of fear just comes over me, and I pull my jacket closer to my skin hoping to get rid of it with the cold.
"Toby, what? What is it?" My voice is shaky. I knew I should have never let myself cry that night. Now, I can't stop. It comes over me at the most inconvenient times, too.
"You can't go to him," he responds bluntly, replacing his arm to his side.
"Why?" I ask. I know, though. I just want to stall. I can't make this decision. Not now.
"Because I love you." My face shoots back to Spinner. He waves again, confused, beckoning me over. I can easily tell you in all sincerity that I know who I would rather be with. I love Toby, too. But with one quick decision, I leave Toby on the ice, as heart broken as I've been my entire life. I need to go where I'm needed. I need to go back where I belong.
"I want to save you.
I want to save you.
I need you, save me too.
I want to save you."
A/N: Yay my first Spanny. Love them Spanny kids. Ok, so it's Spanny turned Tobanny. Hey, I didn't pull that out my ass. Check out Islands in the Stream and Back in Black.. Manny's definitly a doll to Tobes. I like her now. More.
Review.
Discalim: "I Want To Save You" Soco. The lyrics in the first part are from New Found Glory's "Ballad for the Lost Romantics." Epitome ctv Degrassi.
-o-n-e--s-h-o-t--s-p-i-n-n-e-r--m-a-n-n-y--t-o-b-y-
I push my hair out of my eyes and roll onto my back. It's cold in his room, maybe because it's November. But it's always cold in his room, who am I kidding? He's the king of cruelty at Degrassi, so it only fits that it would be cold. He's cold. Too cold.
His skin is a kind of pale that brings out his spots of baby fat even more when he's lying next to me. I stare at the freckles in these places, mentally playing connect the dots, waiting for him to kick me out like he does every night. I'm still cold, but I don't dare cuddle under the blankets anymore. No movement, or he'll get pissed.
It doesn't matter anyways. He turns towards me, pulling the blanket to his waist. He never gets cold. Not even in this dauntingly frigid icicle he calls a room. "Manny," he whispers into my hair, "you need to leave now."
It's always the same night after night. I come, hoping tonight he'll realize that he needs me more than he's let on before. And every night, he doesn't even try to hide the contempt when he tells me that I've stayed too long already. That he'll get caught. But I think he's more scared that he'll actually learn to need me if I stay.
I stand up and stretch in front of him. I pick up my clothes that I had left in a neat pile next to my side of the bed. I put them on slowly, trying not to breathe, avoiding inhaling the scent of sex that permeates every inch of this damn place.
Before, there was a time when I thought "the smell of sex" was just an expression. That somewhere felt like it had been "used" so they said it smelled like sex, when really it was just a feeling. After my first time and everytime after that, I realized how wrong I was. Sex does have a scent. A very distinct scent that, to me, is the most ungodly one on the planet.
The scent leaves something on my skin, a tangible film of sorts. It's sticky on me, but it's barely recognizable unless you dwell on it. I dwell. It's a part of me to feel guilty after sex, and this film... it's like my punishment. It's my physical reminder of how god awful a human being I am.
I pull my hair tightly against my head. Spinner's cd player is on; it's always on. I recognize the singer as New Found Glory. I've hung out with the punk losers long enough that I've learned their sounds. It's so disheartening. These lyrics, however, are thoughtful, pensive, amazingly heartfelt. I brush stray pieces of hair up into my mess as the words fill the room silently.
"I'm pushing myself out,
Holding in my breath.
I can't take this lightly.
Throwing up the words that I said to you.
I always do, do what I'm not supposed to.
Here's to us fools,
That have no meaning,
I tip my glass to you.
Let's toast the night away to friends,
And forget about tomorrow."
I'm so caught up in it's relevance to my thoughts, my life, that I've forgotten to obey the only rule. Get out when he tells you. Do not hesitate. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. "Close the door on your way out," he mumbles, almost incoherently but with an undertone of a menacing heir. As I watch him, scared for what?, he turns over and falls into a quick sleep, I imagine.
I do as he asks, and slide quietly against his bedroom door after I do so. I breathe the sigh of relief I had been trapping. I love you so much, Spinner Mason. You need me. Just admit it.
"Standing on the edge of morning,
Scent of sex and New Found Glory,
Playing as she's pulling back her hair."
I throw the Cougar into drive and burn rubber as I peel out of his driveway. So what if it wakes up his mom? It's not like she'd do anything to the shining star of that shithole. Spinner Mason should be the black sheep. But no, he's wonderful. He has pretty girlfriends and rich best friends, and he goes out more than Kendra. Hell, he's actually her son. Every damn thing that boy does is lamenated and added to the Hall of Spinner.
And what do I have to go home to? Parents who have barely looked at me since my abortion. A dad who threatens to kick me out over every little thing. Brothers who look down their noses on me, that is when they take the time to get their heads out of their asses. But my parents still adore them. Antonio, the oldest, hell his name even means "worthy of praise." Coincidence, parents?
So, if my parents hate me so much, why did I get a car for my 16th birthday? Dad says it's because he had a good year at the store. Mom just smiled at me and gave me another one of her huge hugs. God, I hate them. So fake, so sympathetic, so her wanting to reconnect with me. After I traumatized her, never the other way around. That's why I got it. Because I traumatized her, and she needs her little girl back. She's trying to buy that little girl back.
But I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm going to boys' houses at 2 in the morning and staying until they are satisfied. I'm given no consideration about my own wants and needs. I've come to believe that I don't have any. If I do, I'm not supposed to. I know this. I'm not as stupid as they think I am.
God, I just want him to be different. I want him to hold me, to need my companionship all through the night. I want him to be unable to sleep without my warm body next to him in his piercingly raw room.
But, as for now, I'm going to take what I can get. Without this little bit of light in my dismal universe, I'm without. Don't bite the hand that feeds, Manny. You don't deserve the simple pleasures that most girls get. You don't deserve any of it.
"She drives away she's feeling worthless, Used again but nothings different.
She'd stay the night but knows he doesn't care."
I park the jet black Cougar next to my brother's dirtied SUV. All he's ever wanted. The simple things, the things most people can be content with. Some people are just destined for greatness. They're the ones with the most wants, even if they can't express their wants very well.
I gather my things from where I haphazardly tossed them into the passenger's seat. A beautiful new cell phone that I've already developed a deep hatred for, my semi-new purple cloth purse that I got because Spinner had called it "a pretty color," and my keys hanging off of pink Roxy lanyard.
I stumble foolishly as I make my way up our darkened path. Of course they forgot the porch light; they'd like to pretend that I've been asleep, warm in my own bed the whole time. If you really loved me so much, mom, stop buying things for me. I don't deserve them. Give me a curfew, and ground me when I break it.
The door squeaks open, and I silently enter the foyer. Why silently? It's not like they don't know that I was gone all night. It's not like my shoes squeaking would send everyone into a great hysteria. But I'm still silent. So silent, I want to scream to break it's deafening curse on me. He's silent when he fucks me. He doesn't make a single noise. He did at first, and I will admit that I didn't care for it, but the silence is so much worse.
I climb the steps to my room, each one more silent and threatening than the next. I'm not scared of any living thing at the top, just of my thoughts. I walk past the seemingly lifeless form of my brother sprawled in his boxers, clutching his pillow, mouth moving but no noises emerging. I look in disgust for a few seconds before pressing on to my room.
My door opens silently, and I'm pissed. Why can't it squeak like normal doors? I close it behind me. It doesn't matter; the silence is present either way. I take off my sex-stained clothes and toss them next to the hamper. I find an old t-shirt that's going to double for my bed shirt tonight. I crawl under the covers, but not even the warmth makes up for the silence of my room, the screaming of my thoughts.
Tears threaten to spill over onto my pillow, as they try every night, but I hold them back again. The simple act of spilling tears would be enough to tear apart this family by the seams. All I have to do is admit that there's a problem for everyone to suddenly turn on me. As long as it looks okay, it is okay.
But it's never going to be anywhere close to okay.
"Home by three to deafening quiet.
The porch lights off, guess they forgot it.
She'd cry herself to sleep, but she don't dare."
I grab my purse and bag and get out of my car in a huff. I turn to close the door, and I inadvertantly hit someone. "Sorry! I am so sorry," I say turning into Toby. I smile at him.
"'s okay," he says shrugging it off. "I've been hit worse."
I sling my pack over my shoulder, and we begin to trek towards the looming building. "How was your weekend?" I ask.
"Boring. I was going to call you on Saturday to see if you wanted to go see a movie or something. But, then J.T. called. It was stupid though; all we did was play video games with Danny."
I search my mind, trying to remember what I did Saturday. "You should've, I just stayed home and watched a movie. Cute too. A foreign romance movie. You would've liked it." And then went to Spinner's and had sex. But that was way, way later.
We start up the front stairs. "Why? Do you think I'm gay or something?"
I laugh at him. "No, I guess I just wanted some company." He holds the door open, and we head towards our lockers. "How is J.T. anyways?" Ah, Manny, slyly trying to find out how your ex-boyfriend is. Ask his friend, even though he's standing right over there.
"Fine, I guess. Calmed down, a little," Toby says as he kneels at his locker. I lean against a neighboring locker and wait for him.
Good. "Good." I smile at J.T., but not an inviting smile. Just enough to let him know I don't hate him. "Dr. Sally's coming in today, isn't she?"
Toby stands with a few books in hand, and we start towards my locker. "Yea, she'll be in Armstrong's room. If you want, I'll walk you."
I nod and glance around quickly to see if Spinner's near. He's not, so I might as well go to class now. Early. We grab seats in the back and flick a paper football around while we wait for the rest of the class to file in. Liberty sits in front of me, which is shocking since she's usually first desk, middle row.
Dr. Sally comes in with a huge bag of "sexual goodies" as J.T. calls them, loud enough for the entire class to hear. Toby smirks for his friend since no one else seems to give him a second thought, like usual. Toby then turns to me with a sympathetic look, but I get it. You have to take one for the team sometimes. You have to laugh at the painfully un-funny, and you have to forgive those who do. It's high school; you have to make a few sacrifices or you'll never make it out alive.
"Ahh, Degrassi grade 10's. So much information I know you just can't wait to absorb. Today, I'm going to be talking and answering questions about teenage pregnancy." Do you know that one moment in time when you know all eyes are on you, and you wish it were physically possible for you to melt into a puddle of water and dissipate, Alex Mac style? I always figured my moment was when Ashley announced my pregnancy to the entire cafeteria. How utterly wrong I was.
I hide in my seat pretty well for the first half of the discussion, with more than a little help from Toby. Then, she started on the worst subject she could. And my breaking point was almost reached. "A lot of girls think the only option they have is abortion. Why they would think this, I don't know. Abortion is a serious decision, and should only be considered if every other option seems impossible."
Liberty turns around and gives me a knowing smile. No, Liberty. Don't do it. "Why did you have an abortion, Manny?"
The class stops. My world stops. This is a scene from my nightmare. Everyone turns and looks at me intently for an answer, including Dr. Sally. She's intrigued; I'm burdened to no extent. "I... I had dreams. I wanted, I want to be a model, or a fashion designer. I want to make something of myself. I didn't want to be pregnant at 14. More than that, I really didn't want to have a baby at 15."
I inhale deeply, but the stares don't stop. They want more. What else can I say? I've already told them my truth. Liberty opens her mouth, about to say something else to put me on the spot. I can't take it anymore. Breaking point has been reached. "Excuse me," I say as I stand up and make a v-line for the door. "I have.. to go. Now."
I fall against a row of lockers and let myself lie there, crying. There's no point going to the bathroom; it's probably more crowded in there than this deserted hallway. The classroom door opens. It's J.T., I know it before even looking. Still trying to be the boyfriend he could never be while we dated. It's pathetic, really.
But, looking up, I see it's not J.T. It's Toby. I allow myself to break down again, with the unspoken promise that he won't tell a soul.
"And she wants to be a model, She wants to hear she's beautiful.
She's beautiful."
-POV Change :Toby: POV Change-
I sit down to her, but not next to her, that would be too weird. "I didn't want to," she sobs over and over. I tell her that I know, that I understand. I don't know if I fully understand; it would be easier for the whole mass if everyone just forgot it. But this is high school. No one forgets. We're too young to forget. We're at the perfect age to dwell on everything. Every little goddamn thing.
It seemed like forever until she gave in to her final sniffles and wiped off her face with a sleeve. "The bell's going to ring soon," she tells me matter-of-factly. As if I was the one sobbing in the hallway, as if I was the one stalling to get out of sex ed, as if I was the one who wanted to stay here until hoards of teenagers stampeded over me.
I guess, maybe, for her, I was.
And that's the crazy thing. I never remember feeling anything other than platonic love for Manny Santos. She was always that little girl with cute pigtails who I talked to because of her close connection to my first Degrassi crush, Emma. When she made her mistakes, I really did feel bad. I talked to her, tried to help her through what I was sure was one of the hardest things she's ever gone through. It wasn't this secret crush, though, it was general care for her well being. She was, is, always will be Manny Santos. You don't let someone like that just break without a fight for her.
As soon as we stand up, the bell rings and the class fills out. I try to usher her down the hallway without anyone seeing, but it's too late. J.T. and Liberty, although they were in the back of class, are some of the first ones out. J.T. gives me a harsh look. Doesn't he know I can't help it? I know he was with her first, but he never tried to save her. He didn't care. God, he never cares. About anything. About himself maybe, but that's it.
He shakes his head at me before I turn around. I walk closely beside Manny, trying to get her to avoid the looks, the whispers. She's broken again. Tell all your friends.
"I want to save you.
I want to save you.
I need you, to save me, too.
I want to save you."
-POV Change :Manny: POV Change-
Everytime he says "tonight" with that gleam of a horny chihuahua in his eye, I know what I should say. No, right? I am whoring myself. But I end up just saying maybe, teasing with him. He knows I'll come. It's not rocket science. I always come.
I am Manny Santos. It is my civic duty to whore myself out for the general good of the people. Alright, I know that sounds crazy and completely sarcastic, but in most ways, it's not. This is what I have. This is what I'm good at, what I know what to do. You can't just turn back time and make yourself a virgin again. You take the hand that you're given; that's what life is.
But the second your opponent renigs, you jump on that chance like a ravaged beast. Life doesn't have to suck. You can get out.
I'm in his bed again. It's not as cold tonight, maybe only 0 instead of 20 under. Things seem to be coated in happiness, but it's still not close. It's as close as I get with him. This is the reason I put up with being placed in the back of formation on the squad. This is why I get the phone calls at midnight telling me that I'm going to hell because I'm a stupid tramp. This is why I haven't had a real female friend in months. But without it, I think I'd stop breathing.
I get up this time without him asking. I put on my clothes slowly and quietly. I pull back my hair and listen to the quiet beat of Simple Plan. I stand at his dresser for awhile, staring at him through the mirror. His breathing is calm and smooth, as if he's already fallen into a deep sleep. His body beckons me, but I refuse it.
I walk out of his room and find the way to my car without light. I sit and stare at his darkened window. I can't believe that my entire life revolves around that window, that room, and this darkness. God, when did I get so royally fucked?
"Dressed by dawn and out the door.
No light, she memorized the floor,
So she could leave without being detected."
I cross and un-cross my legs in another bored attempt to have something to do. I look down at my tattered copy of 'A Streetcar Named Desire.' Good book, but I was definitly not in the mood for Stella and Stanley bullshit right now. Especially not after dealing with Spinner's bullshit all night.
Thinking about it again, I have to seriously suppress the urge to throw my green tea against the register. Taking a deep breath, I restrain myself to simply clicking my press-on nails against the bottle. A customer comes into the corner convenience store, and I smile politely and turn back to my book. Damn my dad for making me work here. Damn him to hell.
I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. I hold the book in my left hand, but I stare at the words for a good five minutes without registering one of them. One is the lonlinest number... Okay, stop thought singing. Get back to reading. I have to read. I have a massive, 800 point test on this tomorrow.
I wonder how Spinner's doing with it. Maybe I should call? No, I can't call. Not after last night. I mean, it's my fault. I know better than to ask if I can stay over. But, still, he didn't have to get so controlling and angry. I couldn't even cry. My boyfriend practically took away my self-worth, I mean he slapped me, and I can't cry about it.
The bell rings, and my head shoots up instinctivly. Somewhere, in some part of my head, I'm still hoping he's going to come in with a dozen roses and change my life. But, it's just another middle aged mother on her way home, picking up a gallon of milk and a carton of eggs. Or some other generic, non-life altering thing.
Rubbing my temples, I turn my attention back to the book. The paragraphs, the dialouge, the descriptions, the words. They jumble together on the page, and I feel so dyslexic I could scream. I look over the top of the book to the clock, but it seems to stand still, yet still make the clicking noise as the seconds supposively ticked away.
"She works til three it's uniform.
She dreams that he'll come by the store.
She prays for days when boys mean she's protected."
-POV Change :Toby: POV Change-
"So, if you didn't have anything better to do, you could go to a movie with me tonight? Maybe?" I ask casually into the receiver. It's not a date. Toby Isaacs does not go on dates with Manny Santos. Especially not when her current boyfriend is very large and very threatening. It's just Toby and Manny, hanging out.
"I'm free," she says sweetly. "It'll be just us, then?"
Wait. Was that accusatory? Does she not want to go with just me? True, it might be awkward, but we're friends. This is the kind of things that friends do. "Um, yea. Is that ok?"
"Yup. I was just making sure you weren't trying to sneak J.T. in. Or he was trying to sneak himself in. You know. Just checking."
J.T.? Uh, yea, right. "Nah, I wouldn't do that to you."
She laughs a little. "I know you wouldn't. But J.T. would. I'm not in the mood to deal with people. Except you, of course."
"Of course," I answer without missing a beat. "Is six good for you? We could stop somewhere, grab a bite."
"Sounds good. I guess I'll see you at six," she responds. I can almost hear her flagrant disregard for our date by the tone of her voice. But it's not a date. It's two people hanging out.
"Six," I respond. "I'll be at your house at six."
"Right," she says laughing a little. "Six. Hey, I'm in the middle of painting my toenails, so I'll just see you tonight."
"At six right?" I try to make a joke out of the 'saying-six-at-least-six-times' fiasco.
"Yea," she says, getting a little pissed at this point. "S-i-x."
I nod, but soon realize she can't see my nods over the phone. "Right. I'll see you then." Click. Okay, now to find something decently wearable. Something that may somehow mask the fact that I am Toby Isaacs, and I have a date with a Degrassi beauty. If she had any self-confidence, I would never have a chance. Thank God for abortions.
"And she wants someone to see her,
She needs to hear she's beautiful.
She's beautiful."
"Six-oh-two," she says opening the door. "You're late."
I smile and nod at her as I ascend the single step from the porch to the foyer in the front of the house. "Sorry I'm not as punctual as you, Ms. Santos."
"Oh you should be," she says giving me a sarcastically wry smile. She grabs her coat off a rack by the door. "I'm going out," she calls. She waits a few seconds but gets no response. She shrugs and starts out the door. "They're borderline deaf," she says in means of an explanation.
"I feel you on that one," I say stuffing my hands deep inside my coat pockets.
She flashes me a shy smile. She glances over at my slightly used(that's the nice way of putting it) red Cavalier. Hell, it's not much, but at least it's something. After Ash's little hissy, she got a $12,000 car. But I'm not Ash. I'm not perfect, and I'm not good at hissy fits at all. So I was pleased with my car. It's not much, but it runs. "Do you want to take mine?" she asks, trying to mask the insult with a sugar coating.
I glance at my baby again, but look back to her in defeat. "That's fine."
We stand at the front of the theatres, looking at the meager choices again. We had decided on a quick Chinese-catered dinner at the food court, but we were still already late for about half the choices that were playing.
"Hilary Duff's hot," I say, trying to get her to lean towards the movie staring that actress.
She turns to me with a disgusted look plastered on her face. "She's such a pretentious wannabe. I'm never going to that, just give it up. What about the Johnny Depp psychological thriller? Johnny Depp is a total hottie, and you could always do with a good thought-provoking movie."
"I read some reviews, and they looked a bit down on it."
"I never trust reviews," she says with raised eyebrows.
I give in. I have to. Have you seen those eyes? They'll get you everytime. "On second thought," I say pulling my wallet from my back pocket, "Johnny Depp is a total hottie."
The movie, as I had expected, was a letdown from the beginning. I wanted to tell Manny that the guy was just a figment of Johnny Depp's imagination, but I could never ruin it for her. She seemed genuinely interested in it.
Whereas the movie was a total disaster, the company was fantastic. I don't think I've been told to shut up so many times during a movie. We're still laughing hysterically at some inside joke as she pulls into her driveway.
We get out, and I walk her to the door. "Tonight was great. I'm still wondering why we haven't done this before. See," I say gesturing to the air around me, "no J.T."
She laughs. "Yea, it was really great. I haven't had that much fun in, well, a really long time."
She turns towards the door and puts her key in. "Wait," I say gently touching her arm. She turns towards me with a questioning look. I stare at her one last time, but I can't do it. Every fiber in my being is screaming at me to kiss her, but I can't seem to get one of my muscles to work. "Good night," I say. I lean in and give her a hug.
Because that's what friends do. They hug and they laugh, but they don't ever kiss. That's crossing the line.
"I want to save you.
I want to save you.
I need you, save me too.
I want to save you."
I walk past all the same rooms that I do every night, but I don't bother to be silent. I don't walk on my toes; instead every part of my foot hits the ground with every step. I walk into my room, and my door clicks when I close it.
I fall into my bed, making a small thump. I don't bother to take off my sex-stained clothes tonight; I'd rather lie in my own filth. My teeth chatter against each other, but I'm too lazy to climb under the covers and make myself warm.
So, Toby Isaacs loves me. Not like he'd ever come out and say it, because he's Toby, but how obvious is it. All this time I thought he was talking for J.T., but he's been the one harboring a crush for me. That's a new one, really. It's mind boggling.
I'm Manny Santos. Guys like Toby are supposed to have crushes on me. That's not a new one at all. That's actually the oldest one in the book. But, the thing is, girls like me, you know, they're not supposed to like him back. I'm not saying I do, exactly, but it's weird.
I know I had more fun with him tonight than when I went to Spinner's. And I know that Spinner and I won't be together forever, or much longer. I know that when Toby looked at me like the only thing he's ever wanted was to kiss me, that I felt so deeply connected that I almost had the courage to cry.
It's too late to redeem myself, though. I'm always going to be who I am. Even if I do change, no one will remember that. Everyone will always remember me as the little slut who got pregnant at 14. That is who I was destined to be. I'm a walking Dr. Sally lesson. "Here you go kids, here's how not to act." In a few years, Degrassi will be offering the course "Manny Santos 101" where you can sit there and learn from my mistakes. But I haven't even learned from my mistakes.
I let out a few whimpers. It's time to let it all out. Tears flow steadily now, and I have yet to find any power that will stop them.
My body shakes, but I'm not sure if it's from my crying or the cold. I've lived too long like this. But I can't stop. I've tried stopping. I have nothing to do when I'm not with guys. I just, hang out with other guys. It's this ridiculous never-ending power that I'm not sure I want to live without. What kind of life would that be, anyways?
I just need to stop crying so much. I'm such a baby.
"And she won't sleep.
She won't sleep,
And she won't sleep at all."
The sun reflects off the snow, blinding me as I walk from my car to school. Have I mentioned lately how much I despise winter? Especially Canadian winters. If you can't tell by looking at me, I'm not exactly a cold weather girl.
I hurry to Spinner's locker as soon as I'm inside the school. He's sitting on the floor, furiously working on two day late math homework. "Hey," I say when my feet are parallel with his.
He looks up. "Hey," he answers.
I point to the locker. "I left my sweater in there. It's really cold." He moves out of the way, and with a quick flick of his wrist, opens the locker for me, too. "Thanks," I answer as I put my arms through it. I pull it over my head as I sit close to him on the floor.
He kisses me as soon as I sit down. The same old show everyday. The same show that humors the fantasies of every Degrassi student, and the same show that keeps Paige at bay, exactly where Spinner needs her to be. The same show that Spinner thinks quells my own guilt of being with him almost every night when there's no love. Yea, that show.
"Hard?" I ask, referring to his math.
"Not really, but if we find a janitor's closet, I'm sure you could make it that way."
I laugh at his absurdly rude humor. God, I hate him. "I meant the math."
"Yea, borderline impossible. Armstrong's a nazi."
I notice Toby walk past the grade 11 locker hall to our's. "I have a lot of homework, too. Maybe I should go start on it."
He wraps his arm around me. "No, I want you to stay here."
Time's ticking, Manny. Make your decision. "Sorry babe, but I'll see you at lunch."
I give him a quick peck on the lips before finding my way out of the crowded hallway. I see Toby as soon as I walk into our hall and give him a slight wave.
"Hey," he says coming up behind me at my locker.
"Hey," I reply, not bothering to turn around. Who else talks to me? Yea, that's right, no one.
"We still on for skating tonight?"
"It's opening night, of course I'll be there!" The one thing I can stand about Canadian winters: the wonderful feeling of gliding on ice. And hopefully this year, my ice memories will be better than last year's.
I feel my days go a whole lot easier when there's anticipation for the night. I focus all my energy on it, and then I forget where I am mostly. Not good for my school work, but it works wonders on my sanity.
So by the time he picks me up at 7, I am so pumped for tonight, that I'm actually considering that I should make myself like this forever. I mean, make myself happy. It's as simple as telling Spin how I feel, and finally letting myself be happy with someone not expected.
Toby on skates is a wondefully hilarious thing. Let's face it, the boy is not the most coordinated thing on the planet. I let him lean on me for support so he doesn't fall over.
"Thanks," he says with a grateful smile.
My smile lies only in my eyes. "No problem."
He grabs onto my hand a few minutes later, trying to stop himself from falling again. His warmth fills my body, but I shake his hand off. I haven't decided yet, stop pressuring me.
I have to give him credit for a full twenty minutes without falling, but his first fall is hilarious. I laugh so hard, that I almost knock myself over while helping him up. I tilt my head back in one final laugh when I see him.
Spinner's standing at the gate between the rink and the outside, staring intently. He puts his hand up in a wave when he sees me. Dumbfounded, I put my hand up, too.
His presence here attracts me to him like a magnet. I don't remember making any movement, but within seconds, my feet are gliding towards him. I'm in some weird zone, but something penetrates it and breaks my concentration. The word "don't" is distinctly registered in my subconcious.
I turn away from Spinner and look back. Toby's standing, one arm outstretched with his palm faced up and open. I skate back towards him, afraid. I don't know why. A feeling of fear just comes over me, and I pull my jacket closer to my skin hoping to get rid of it with the cold.
"Toby, what? What is it?" My voice is shaky. I knew I should have never let myself cry that night. Now, I can't stop. It comes over me at the most inconvenient times, too.
"You can't go to him," he responds bluntly, replacing his arm to his side.
"Why?" I ask. I know, though. I just want to stall. I can't make this decision. Not now.
"Because I love you." My face shoots back to Spinner. He waves again, confused, beckoning me over. I can easily tell you in all sincerity that I know who I would rather be with. I love Toby, too. But with one quick decision, I leave Toby on the ice, as heart broken as I've been my entire life. I need to go where I'm needed. I need to go back where I belong.
"I want to save you.
I want to save you.
I need you, save me too.
I want to save you."