Ms. Kwan was being her usual self, talking about literature and literary devices and all of that. Then she said something a little odd.
"Memory is fiction," For some reason that struck me as odd, and it got me thinking in a way I hadn't planned on thinking. I looked over at Manny doodling in her notebook. The sun gleamed off of her flat black hair. J.T. had that little smirk on his face as he watched Ms. Kwan and watched the clock.
"If you write a memory you choose to write about certain things, not about others. You can't represent the whole thing so you represent certain things, changing it in that subtle way from the fact it was to a fiction you are imagining, based on real things, or remembered things you think are real,"
Manny's doodles were not that good but she made a lot of them. Liberty jotted down notes, stared with intensity toward the front of the room. That's one thing I'd always envied about Liberty, her ability to focus.
"It's the same with people. Even if you are writing about a real person, you describe them one way, you write about certain things and not others, and you start to make things up. The real person becomes a fictional one,"
I sighed. I could sense a writing project coming along. It was easier to do these writing projects when my room wasn't in the basement.
"What I want you to do is write about someone you know, someone who is not in this class. It will be a character sketch. Take what you know and write about that, fill in the rest. You will have turned a real person into a fictional one,"
We filed out, burdened by one of Kwan's bizarre writing assignments, but I didn't know, this one seemed like it might be kind of fun.
At home in my basement I tried to think of a good subject. Manny would have been easiest, since I knew her best, but she was in the class. Sean? No, that would be too bitter. My mom? Nah. Who had the most drama, the most turmoil, the most character flaws?
Craig Manning.
Funny, I hadn't really thought about him in a long time. The last time I even talked to him was when he was freaking out in the hallway because Manny was going to have an abortion. Two years ago. Yeah. I hadn't even spoken to him since then. But he had undeniable appeal, as far as literature went. I took out my pad of paper and tried to write.
He was tall, his hair dark and curly, and his eyes were hazel but sometimes looked brown. He looked kind of sad when he thought no one was looking.
Oh this sucked. This was harder than it looked. Writing about him made me remember when I had that stupid crush on him when he first showed up at Degrassi. Boy did that crush crash and burn when he asked Manny to dance and I was left all alone. Oh, I could write about that, a memory and a person who was not in Kwan's class with me.
Everyone was dressed in the styles of 20 years ago, big hair and bad make-up and pastel clothes. My best friend and me had snuck into the dance. Craig, the boy who helped us sneak in, he tipped his hat and walked into the crowd. He was dressed as a punk rocker in tight jeans and a ripped sleeveless T-shirt. I'd never heard of the rock star he dressed up as but I thought he looked sexy anyway. Then a slow song started to play and he came toward us, and my best friend whispered that he was coming to ask me to dance. He talked to me, a few polite words and then turned his attention to my friend.
"Manny," he said, "do you want to dance?" She looked at me in a panic and I swallowed and felt the tears coming, but I swallowed them back and smiled hard.
"It's okay," I said, "you two go. I'll just stay here,"
This was awful, and it was making me feel bad. I didn't realize I had so many negative memories associated with Craig. Maybe I could write more about him, less about me.
He left the birthday party, calling out thanks as he still held the hot dog and walked away. The camera was slung over his shoulder along with his school bag. He didn't want to go home. He had to. Sooner or later he always had to.
"Uh, hi dad," he said, trying to keep the nervous sound out of his voice and failing. What if his father knew he was at a party with Joey and Angela? What would happen then?
"Craig, where have you been?" his father said, staring at him in that way that meant trouble. Craig shrugged, mumbled "nowhere" and tried to go to his room. His dad grabbed his arm and stopped him.
"You're not going anywhere, do you hear me? You weren't at a party with Angela, were you?"
"N-no, I wasn't, I swear-"
"You're lying," The hand that held his arm swung him around, and his father grabbed the other arm and pulled him closer, he shouted in his face, "why do you lie to me?"
Craig didn't answer, couldn't answer, but shook with fear, squeezed his eyes shut.
Oh my. Where did that come from? I knew his dad abused him, everyone pretty much knew that was why he lived with Joey but I was there that night they dragged him out of the cemetery. He'd run away. I didn't know the details of his experiences with his father, he didn't talk about it and I'd never asked. We weren't good enough friends for me to ask. In fact, we weren't friends at all.
Thrown against the wall, and he cried out, but his dad was still angry. He saw it in his narrowed eyes and raised fists. Craig tried to get away but there was nowhere to go with the wall at his back and his father in front of him.
I could cry. I felt so bad for him, I'd forgotten that I had felt so bad after all the shit he pulled with Manny, though Manny wasn't exactly innocent.
It was Paige's birthday party, surprise party that her spazzy boyfriend had been planning for a month. Craig wondered around before the party started, helping his girlfriend decorate. His girlfriend: Ashley Kerwin. Ex-goth punk rock girl extraordinaire with her jewel blue eyes and smoky make-up, who could resist her? And Craig, troubled moody boy with two dead parents and a violent past, shying away from commitment so he wouldn't get hurt. Who could resist him?
They were the perfect couple.
The party was going full swing, songs pulsing around their heads, teenage bodies swaying and moving to the music, and Ashley drags Craig into a deserted bedroom.
"Hey," she says, smiling her slow sexy smile. She tugs on his shirt and pulls her to him.
"Hey," he answers back with a smile of his own, wide smile, sleepy eyes, his breath beginning to quicken.
"I love you," she says, and holds her breath for his response. He looks away, trapped.
"Don't you love me?" The hurt has crept into her voice, the verge of tears voice.
"Ash," he says, not looking at her, his voice thick. His eyes are like a wild animal's eyes when a fire is coming, tearing up the scenery in the orange blaze.
"Okay, that's what I thought," she says, her voice and her eyes cold. She turns on her heel and walks away, leaving Craig to stare after her.
She's gone, and Craig goes back to the party, looks around. In the corner he sees Manny Santos, dark haired girl with love sick eyes, but he shakes his head and heads for the door. Manny sees him leaving, sees he's upset, and sees her chance.
Outside, the night air crisp and dry, Craig rubs his arms through his thin sleeves and Manny toddles after him in her high heels.
"Craig, Craig, wait…"
He stops, lets her catch up with him.
"Craig…"
"Not now, Manny," No patience for her, and she tugs on his sleeve anyway.
"What's, what's wrong?" she says, and he seems so perfect to her, his full lips she just wants to bite, his curly hair hanging over his forehead and curling behind his ears, touching his collar.
"Oh nothing. I just screwed up again, and again, and again…" his voice rising and tears starting to fall, and Manny stares at him and knows Ashley did this, Ashley hurt him.
"That song you sang in the gym-"
"You heard that?"
"Yeah. And if someone sang that song for me I'd be so happy for a long time, forever. If Ashley can't see that…"
Second chance girl, if he can't have Ashley at least he can have her. She follows him back to his house, to his garage where there are no step-fathers or little sisters. There isn't a bed but there's a couch, and it will do.
Ewwww. I can't describe them having sex but I know they did that night, because that is when Manny got pregnant. That's when Craig went a little nuts, wanting to have a family and everything, although it's been done. My mom did it.
Back together with Ashley, and this time it's better and right and he won't screw it up again. No more cheating, no more Manny Santos. Things weren't that great elsewhere, their friend Jimmy was in the hospital and might never walk again, their friend Spinner was ostracized because he caused it, he got Jimmy shot, he might as well have pulled the trigger.
Despite this Craig felt good, real good. He had a million ideas for songs and schemes flying through his head, staying up all night writing songs, getting more done than he ever had before. Energy. Inspiration. Maybe it was because of Ashley, because he was in love for real this time and wasn't afraid to tell her.
Spinner and Marco were mad that he's walked out of the recording session but they didn't understand that Ashley was more important, Ashley was everything. They threw the CD's at his chest and walked away and he watched them go, and Ashley leaned her head on his shoulder and he knew that it was okay.
Her dad was getting married and he had to go, had to dress up fancy and impress Ashley and her family.
Jeez, getting tired. Just writing about Craig was tiring, I didn't know how he lived that life and wasn't exhausted. I knew he was bi-polar, knew he freaked out and beat up Joey and ended up in the hospital. But right now I was just too tired to write about it, maybe later. Besides, it's all fiction anyway. Kwan was right, it was all fiction and fragments. Sometimes that was all you got, even in your own life.