.x. CHAPTER ONE .x.
= Introduction, my ass. =
Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi, or Canadian television, or Canada (dammit!).
[N/ I've finally found an excuse to use my ff.net account: Degrassi fics! I used to be one of the most prominent writers in the Gorillaz section before fanfiction.net went to hell and booted off the music groups part! So since this is my first try on a DG piece, you'll have to cut me a break if you think it sucks.]
"This is it?" I gulped, trying hard not to sound too disappointed. The car had stopped about a hundred yards away from a clutch of buildings, all presented with a quaint, cheery sign that read, "DEGRASSI COMMUNITY SCHOOL."
"This is it!" my mother exclaimed, and I could sense the fondness in her voice. "I attended this school way back when! I just never thought I would grow up and have my child go to the same place!"
"I prefer you not to acknowledge the fact that I'm actually related to you."
"Oh, come on, Candy, it's not that bad."
"Try being named Candy CORNE, Mom!"
"Candy, don't be like this on your first day of school."
"I'm going to be like this until I can legally change my name. And you know what I'm going to give as a reason? My mother was DRUNK when she gave birth to me so she named me CANDY CORNE, thinking it would be HILARIOUS to see her child in torment for the rest of her life!"
"Have a nice day at school, sweetie." Mom leaned over and kissed me on top of the head. How embarrassing. I could practically feel the steam frying the kiss mark right off the centre of my forehead as I stepped from the car and she merrily zoomed away.
I turned to face the piece of crap building I'm going to be imprisoned in for the next nine months. God.
I shifted my backpack a little and began taking my first steps towards hell. I guess it could be worse; I could be in a Catholic school, like the last time, where we all had to endure hours of stupid Bible-beating, the whole damn building ruled by theocracy, we all dressed alike, and we had no freedom of speech.
I hated not being able to dye my hair, wear tennis shoes, speak my mind, listen to music, or be openly gay (which I'm not, but I know for a fact that if you were at that school, they'd probably kick you out).
At St. Peter's, there was a no-touching rule. No closer than six inches. Enough room for the "holy spirit" bullshit. Fuck that. I made it a point to hump guys regularly in front of the nuns. Flicked off the sorry mothers, routinely brought up the subject of sex, drugs, rock and roll, asked them if they masturbated. I got slapped with the ruler a bit. I got in trouble for everything and anything from telling a teacher to suck my left one to hocking a submarine sandwich at a fellow student (what? She pissed me off!). Disobedience, lack of respect, send her to "the Reverend."
The Reverend and I had become good friends that year. I got sent to his office at least once a month, sometimes once a week. Such a charming man. No one could resist his monotone voice and thick-rimmed glasses, that shock of grey-white hair on either side of his balding head and that constant stern expression. He always told me that it was wrong to disobey and that I would be punished and blah blah, blah blah BLAH, but underneath, I knew his secret liking for me and my blunt, rude questions about the truth of the church, and the world in general, for that matter. The Reverend had once been a pretty cool guy and at times his queerness escaped him and he let me off the hook.
Somehow I could edge my way around serious punishment for the most part, since Big R and I had become such good friends. A few days of after-school detention or deprivation of social-centred activities, like participating in cheerleading or attending basket ball games. That kind of stuff broke my heart. Yeah right.
But I just told my dear mother that I was in some kind of Catholic club or something of that sort, and got my detentions scheduled and revolved around that little lie. She ate it up.
But finally, the day came when I could no longer screw with the system. Sister Mary Katherine had the last straw when they found out it was me who spray-painted 'Nuns are lesbians' and '666' in dripping blood red paint on the third-floor bathroom walls. I was sent immediately from my math class to the Reverend. And this would be the last time.
"What's goin' on, Big R?" I asked, casually sauntering into his office.
"Have a seat, Candy."
I sat. The Reverend folded his hands and looked at me. "Is it true that you sprayed an appalling message in the girl's bathroom on the third floor?"
"What about it?"
"Did you or didn't you?"
I shrugged. "Sure, I did."
I stuck to the facts and skipped the bullshit. In my younger days, I lied in order to escape my punishment. But in my ripe old age, I had learned that it was easiest to tell the truth as frankly as possible: just admit to having committed the crime and give your reason. My reasons were often weak and ill supported, without thought or structure. I just hated it here. The Reverend knew that. Everyone knew that.
But my honest approach always seemed to shock Big R. He pulled a handkerchief from his drawer and mopped his head with it. "I don't understand why."
"I was struck with inspiration."
"To write, to write..." his voice trailed. He glanced around nervously as to make sure no one was watching, leaned forward, and whispered, "'666?''Nuns are lesbians?' "
"Aren't they?"
"That's not the point!"
"I've missed the point."
"The point is, you graffitied private property! Vandalized on school grounds! Insulted the sisters of the church!"
"And...?"
The Reverend shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to—"
I rolled them off on my fingers for him. "Give me an in house, a week's worth of detention, cafeteria clean-up duty, write a letter to a shut-in?"
I knew them all. Too well.
"No. As much as I hate to, I'm going to have you expelled."
My ears perked and my heart skipped. "Wh-what?"
"I'm sorry, Candy."
"Aww, Big R, I'm sorry, too. Who's going to be the resident troublemaker at St. Peter's?"
"Candace! I am being totally serious!" he shouted.
"So am I!" I retorted. I leaned back in my chair, arms folded in defiance.
He rubbed his shiny forehead with the handkerchief again. "I like you, Candy. I think you are a very bright girl. But I've put up with enough out of you in this year alone to comprise for every student in the entire history of the school."
"Yeah," I said, suddenly thoughtful. "You outta give me a plaque and put my picture in a frame."
Big R shook his head in either disappointment or frustration, I couldn't tell which. "Will you ever drop that attitude? It's very disrespectful."
I took a piece of butterscotch from the dish and unwrapped it. "Disrespectful my ass." I popped the candy in my mouth and the Reverend stared. "Sorry for the slip, Big R. I just don't care to be here anymore. Plus, the school year's practically over."
"There's still two weeks left, and exams are next week. We'll compromise. You finish out the school year without any more trouble to add to your record and I won't kick you out. Even though you've been a nuisance, I care more about your education than your criminal records."
"You got it, Big R."
I exited the office smirking. Oh how sweet life was.
It was less than a week later that I had been drinking and was suddenly struck with artistic motivation once again, and this time half of the entire wall of Saint Peter's Catholic Church had been scrawled with the message: 'CHURCH IS CONFORMITY. ST. PETER'S MY ASS.' and 'LATER BIG R. LOVE, CANDY.'
*******
"Hello?" someone asked impatiently.
"Huh?" I blinked and looked over my right shoulder. There stood a tan, blonde girl in brand name clothing, chewing at her wad of gum and tapping her foot, irritated at my slow response.
"Are you just going to stand there and stare at the building all day, or are you going to move, or something?"
"Are you just going to bitch all day or are you going to drop that attitude, or something?" I snapped back.
"So-ry," she said, sarcastic, and headed off with an equally preppy black girl.
I rolled my eyes and trotted up the steps. As I approached a set of doorways, a cute guy with dark, curly hair held the door open for me. "Thanks,"
"No problem."
"What's your name?" he asked, all friendly like. What a relief. If I had based my opinions on the bitch that I'd met seconds earlier, I would say every kid at this school was a snob. But this guy was very well behaved. Interesting.
"Candy—" I hesitated, forgetting my last name.
"I'm Craig. Pleased to meet you."
"Likewise."
Damn. What a catch. And I'd only been here for two minutes.
"Transferred?" he asked, fumbling around with another door.
"Yeah."
"Where from?"
"West Warwick, Rhode Island. Saint Peter's Catholic High School."
"Catholic, youch."
"You're telling me."
"Why'd you move here?"
"My mother's job. She loves it here. Seems to think I'll get something out of it, as well." I shrugged. "Anything to get out of that hole in the wall up there."
"What grade you in?"
"Eleventh."
"I'm in grade eleven this year, too. Maybe we'll have some classes together."
"Maybe,"
I studied all of the students as Craig escorted me down the hall. Most of them just dressed normally, you know, jeans and tee shirts with tennis shoes or whatnot, but suddenly I caught the eye of one that stood out from the crowd. One of those typical Goth girls. Who needs 'em.
Goth girl approached us with a smile. "Hey Craig," she greeted. I took this time to examine her closer: she had purple-red, choppy hair and heavily lined eyes, and wore a stunning array of all black. While she seemed very nice, she resembled the girl ogre off of Shrek. She began walking with us.
Craig did the honours. "Ashley, this is Candy. Candy, Ashley."
"Hi, and welcome to DeGrassi."
"Thanks, looks like I'll be needing it." I replied, nodding to the same blonde chick from earlier. At least Goth Girl was friendly.
"Oh, that's Paige. You'll find it's often best just to ignore her."
"Apparently." I said, leaning back to take aim. It wasn't seconds later that my cotton candy gum had found itself a nice little home in Paige's lovely store-bought blonde hair.
"Paige!" the black girl from earlier shrieked in dismay, pointing to the bright blue wad nestled in an array of blonde.
Paige ran her French-manicured hand over her head. "Honestly, Haze, what's your prob—OH MY GOD!"
Paige screeched as her finger came in contact with my Bubblicious apprentice. She hopped in place for a full ten seconds straight, repeating, "My hair!" Nonetheless, this caused quite a scene in the formerly quiet hallway. A few concerned toadies rushed over to her as she clawed her luscious locks into frenzy.
"Are you ok?"
"What happened to your hair, baby?"
"Is there anything I can do?"
As if the weight of the world depended on her looking perfect.
"Which," Paige breathed, "one of you MORONS...did this," she pointed up the stringy greenish mess, "to MY HAIR?"
Most teen residences of the school continued down the hallway. Exasperated, Paige just announced, "Screw off!" to all her attendees and strode into the bathroom.
"Ha!" A muscular guy with thick eyebrows and a bean on snickered as he passed. "Nice shot."
"Thanks," I replied, proud of myself.
"Candy, I can't believe you just did that to Paige!" Ashley said, surprised.
I shrugged.
"If she ever finds out you did that to her..."
"Lighten up, Ash. Save the loss of gum, it was pretty funny." Craig interrupted, hazel eyes dancing in mischievously.
Ashley's suppressed grin lost its valour, and she gave into expressing her amusement. "It was kind of funny. Way to introduce yourself, Candy."
*****
[N/ So that's it, for now. Please review.]
= Introduction, my ass. =
Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi, or Canadian television, or Canada (dammit!).
[N/ I've finally found an excuse to use my ff.net account: Degrassi fics! I used to be one of the most prominent writers in the Gorillaz section before fanfiction.net went to hell and booted off the music groups part! So since this is my first try on a DG piece, you'll have to cut me a break if you think it sucks.]
"This is it?" I gulped, trying hard not to sound too disappointed. The car had stopped about a hundred yards away from a clutch of buildings, all presented with a quaint, cheery sign that read, "DEGRASSI COMMUNITY SCHOOL."
"This is it!" my mother exclaimed, and I could sense the fondness in her voice. "I attended this school way back when! I just never thought I would grow up and have my child go to the same place!"
"I prefer you not to acknowledge the fact that I'm actually related to you."
"Oh, come on, Candy, it's not that bad."
"Try being named Candy CORNE, Mom!"
"Candy, don't be like this on your first day of school."
"I'm going to be like this until I can legally change my name. And you know what I'm going to give as a reason? My mother was DRUNK when she gave birth to me so she named me CANDY CORNE, thinking it would be HILARIOUS to see her child in torment for the rest of her life!"
"Have a nice day at school, sweetie." Mom leaned over and kissed me on top of the head. How embarrassing. I could practically feel the steam frying the kiss mark right off the centre of my forehead as I stepped from the car and she merrily zoomed away.
I turned to face the piece of crap building I'm going to be imprisoned in for the next nine months. God.
I shifted my backpack a little and began taking my first steps towards hell. I guess it could be worse; I could be in a Catholic school, like the last time, where we all had to endure hours of stupid Bible-beating, the whole damn building ruled by theocracy, we all dressed alike, and we had no freedom of speech.
I hated not being able to dye my hair, wear tennis shoes, speak my mind, listen to music, or be openly gay (which I'm not, but I know for a fact that if you were at that school, they'd probably kick you out).
At St. Peter's, there was a no-touching rule. No closer than six inches. Enough room for the "holy spirit" bullshit. Fuck that. I made it a point to hump guys regularly in front of the nuns. Flicked off the sorry mothers, routinely brought up the subject of sex, drugs, rock and roll, asked them if they masturbated. I got slapped with the ruler a bit. I got in trouble for everything and anything from telling a teacher to suck my left one to hocking a submarine sandwich at a fellow student (what? She pissed me off!). Disobedience, lack of respect, send her to "the Reverend."
The Reverend and I had become good friends that year. I got sent to his office at least once a month, sometimes once a week. Such a charming man. No one could resist his monotone voice and thick-rimmed glasses, that shock of grey-white hair on either side of his balding head and that constant stern expression. He always told me that it was wrong to disobey and that I would be punished and blah blah, blah blah BLAH, but underneath, I knew his secret liking for me and my blunt, rude questions about the truth of the church, and the world in general, for that matter. The Reverend had once been a pretty cool guy and at times his queerness escaped him and he let me off the hook.
Somehow I could edge my way around serious punishment for the most part, since Big R and I had become such good friends. A few days of after-school detention or deprivation of social-centred activities, like participating in cheerleading or attending basket ball games. That kind of stuff broke my heart. Yeah right.
But I just told my dear mother that I was in some kind of Catholic club or something of that sort, and got my detentions scheduled and revolved around that little lie. She ate it up.
But finally, the day came when I could no longer screw with the system. Sister Mary Katherine had the last straw when they found out it was me who spray-painted 'Nuns are lesbians' and '666' in dripping blood red paint on the third-floor bathroom walls. I was sent immediately from my math class to the Reverend. And this would be the last time.
"What's goin' on, Big R?" I asked, casually sauntering into his office.
"Have a seat, Candy."
I sat. The Reverend folded his hands and looked at me. "Is it true that you sprayed an appalling message in the girl's bathroom on the third floor?"
"What about it?"
"Did you or didn't you?"
I shrugged. "Sure, I did."
I stuck to the facts and skipped the bullshit. In my younger days, I lied in order to escape my punishment. But in my ripe old age, I had learned that it was easiest to tell the truth as frankly as possible: just admit to having committed the crime and give your reason. My reasons were often weak and ill supported, without thought or structure. I just hated it here. The Reverend knew that. Everyone knew that.
But my honest approach always seemed to shock Big R. He pulled a handkerchief from his drawer and mopped his head with it. "I don't understand why."
"I was struck with inspiration."
"To write, to write..." his voice trailed. He glanced around nervously as to make sure no one was watching, leaned forward, and whispered, "'666?''Nuns are lesbians?' "
"Aren't they?"
"That's not the point!"
"I've missed the point."
"The point is, you graffitied private property! Vandalized on school grounds! Insulted the sisters of the church!"
"And...?"
The Reverend shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to—"
I rolled them off on my fingers for him. "Give me an in house, a week's worth of detention, cafeteria clean-up duty, write a letter to a shut-in?"
I knew them all. Too well.
"No. As much as I hate to, I'm going to have you expelled."
My ears perked and my heart skipped. "Wh-what?"
"I'm sorry, Candy."
"Aww, Big R, I'm sorry, too. Who's going to be the resident troublemaker at St. Peter's?"
"Candace! I am being totally serious!" he shouted.
"So am I!" I retorted. I leaned back in my chair, arms folded in defiance.
He rubbed his shiny forehead with the handkerchief again. "I like you, Candy. I think you are a very bright girl. But I've put up with enough out of you in this year alone to comprise for every student in the entire history of the school."
"Yeah," I said, suddenly thoughtful. "You outta give me a plaque and put my picture in a frame."
Big R shook his head in either disappointment or frustration, I couldn't tell which. "Will you ever drop that attitude? It's very disrespectful."
I took a piece of butterscotch from the dish and unwrapped it. "Disrespectful my ass." I popped the candy in my mouth and the Reverend stared. "Sorry for the slip, Big R. I just don't care to be here anymore. Plus, the school year's practically over."
"There's still two weeks left, and exams are next week. We'll compromise. You finish out the school year without any more trouble to add to your record and I won't kick you out. Even though you've been a nuisance, I care more about your education than your criminal records."
"You got it, Big R."
I exited the office smirking. Oh how sweet life was.
It was less than a week later that I had been drinking and was suddenly struck with artistic motivation once again, and this time half of the entire wall of Saint Peter's Catholic Church had been scrawled with the message: 'CHURCH IS CONFORMITY. ST. PETER'S MY ASS.' and 'LATER BIG R. LOVE, CANDY.'
*******
"Hello?" someone asked impatiently.
"Huh?" I blinked and looked over my right shoulder. There stood a tan, blonde girl in brand name clothing, chewing at her wad of gum and tapping her foot, irritated at my slow response.
"Are you just going to stand there and stare at the building all day, or are you going to move, or something?"
"Are you just going to bitch all day or are you going to drop that attitude, or something?" I snapped back.
"So-ry," she said, sarcastic, and headed off with an equally preppy black girl.
I rolled my eyes and trotted up the steps. As I approached a set of doorways, a cute guy with dark, curly hair held the door open for me. "Thanks,"
"No problem."
"What's your name?" he asked, all friendly like. What a relief. If I had based my opinions on the bitch that I'd met seconds earlier, I would say every kid at this school was a snob. But this guy was very well behaved. Interesting.
"Candy—" I hesitated, forgetting my last name.
"I'm Craig. Pleased to meet you."
"Likewise."
Damn. What a catch. And I'd only been here for two minutes.
"Transferred?" he asked, fumbling around with another door.
"Yeah."
"Where from?"
"West Warwick, Rhode Island. Saint Peter's Catholic High School."
"Catholic, youch."
"You're telling me."
"Why'd you move here?"
"My mother's job. She loves it here. Seems to think I'll get something out of it, as well." I shrugged. "Anything to get out of that hole in the wall up there."
"What grade you in?"
"Eleventh."
"I'm in grade eleven this year, too. Maybe we'll have some classes together."
"Maybe,"
I studied all of the students as Craig escorted me down the hall. Most of them just dressed normally, you know, jeans and tee shirts with tennis shoes or whatnot, but suddenly I caught the eye of one that stood out from the crowd. One of those typical Goth girls. Who needs 'em.
Goth girl approached us with a smile. "Hey Craig," she greeted. I took this time to examine her closer: she had purple-red, choppy hair and heavily lined eyes, and wore a stunning array of all black. While she seemed very nice, she resembled the girl ogre off of Shrek. She began walking with us.
Craig did the honours. "Ashley, this is Candy. Candy, Ashley."
"Hi, and welcome to DeGrassi."
"Thanks, looks like I'll be needing it." I replied, nodding to the same blonde chick from earlier. At least Goth Girl was friendly.
"Oh, that's Paige. You'll find it's often best just to ignore her."
"Apparently." I said, leaning back to take aim. It wasn't seconds later that my cotton candy gum had found itself a nice little home in Paige's lovely store-bought blonde hair.
"Paige!" the black girl from earlier shrieked in dismay, pointing to the bright blue wad nestled in an array of blonde.
Paige ran her French-manicured hand over her head. "Honestly, Haze, what's your prob—OH MY GOD!"
Paige screeched as her finger came in contact with my Bubblicious apprentice. She hopped in place for a full ten seconds straight, repeating, "My hair!" Nonetheless, this caused quite a scene in the formerly quiet hallway. A few concerned toadies rushed over to her as she clawed her luscious locks into frenzy.
"Are you ok?"
"What happened to your hair, baby?"
"Is there anything I can do?"
As if the weight of the world depended on her looking perfect.
"Which," Paige breathed, "one of you MORONS...did this," she pointed up the stringy greenish mess, "to MY HAIR?"
Most teen residences of the school continued down the hallway. Exasperated, Paige just announced, "Screw off!" to all her attendees and strode into the bathroom.
"Ha!" A muscular guy with thick eyebrows and a bean on snickered as he passed. "Nice shot."
"Thanks," I replied, proud of myself.
"Candy, I can't believe you just did that to Paige!" Ashley said, surprised.
I shrugged.
"If she ever finds out you did that to her..."
"Lighten up, Ash. Save the loss of gum, it was pretty funny." Craig interrupted, hazel eyes dancing in mischievously.
Ashley's suppressed grin lost its valour, and she gave into expressing her amusement. "It was kind of funny. Way to introduce yourself, Candy."
*****
[N/ So that's it, for now. Please review.]