Hey, this is a story I did on Wattpad but I'm just changing it to Degrassi-esque. Enjoy, lovely people!
Yeah, I don't own Degrassi, but neither does Brendon Urie.
"Just a day, just an ordinary day, just trying to get by…" –Ordinary Day, Vanessa Carlton
Zoom in on the protagonist, washing dishes in the back of a shady diner with flickering lights so it's no longer called Local Diner, but Loca Din r. So, it's only obvious that to this washed-up town, it's known as the Loca Diner. A completely truthful nickname, really. Considering that the boss is…well, crazy. In the simplest of senses. He has a bald head, so shiny that sometimes you can see your reflection staring back at you. He has bulging eyes, on you like a hawk as if he's forever judging you, which maybe he is. When he gets angry, his neck veins bulge like they're just dying to break out of his skin, the thin barrier between the world and their prison. Much like our hero, our protagonist; trapped but dying to break free. Just wishing, hoping, praying that something can break that skin, let his wall crash down so he can see the world, and live, for once. He sure didn't think that the girl who pushed open the diner's door would be just that, the one who could break the barrier. He wouldn't have noticed her at all, really, if it wasn't for her attire: a black t-shirt that advertised the phrase: "Question Authority", hot pink skinny jeans and black Chucks. He discarded her in his mind, throwing her out of his head. Just another cliché wannabe rebellious chick. But still, he couldn't help but listen in on her order: "Coffee, black." Not 'black coffee', not 'can I please have a black coffee?' It wasn't a question, or a favor; it was a demand. A demand that she expected to be met, as quickly as her heart desires. No matter the other customers, screw them. No, she needed what she wanted, her only. It wasn't as if it surprised him, he had seen her around school. She challenged the most intimidating of bullies, stood up to the strictest of teachers, even once dumping her lunch tray on a guy who had budged in front of her to pay. Or, that was the rumor, anyway. She never confirmed or denied these rumors, just smirked lightly and stalked off when being questioned about them. Then, there was the mystery of her grades. She always made honor roll, yet it was rare to see her sitting in class, much less learning. She was a mystery herself. A prospect of speculation for the students of Washbury high school. Everything she did was questionable.
For the next two weeks, she showed up at that exact same diner, that exact stool, that exact time. The time when she came, he came to look forward to. Something stable, permanent in his ever-changing life. And God knows, life did change for him. Too fast, for his liking. But her…she was in his daily schedule, like she was written everyday in his plan book in permanent marker, 'the girl comes to the Loco Diner'. Other daily customers looked at her strangely. She wasn't one to stick around, for anything. Relationships, school, parties; she was always moving. Maybe it was what she liked, or maybe it was just something she had to do. But the strangest part about it all was that she always ordered the exact same thing (black coffee), in the exact same tone (demanding), with the exact same phrase ("Coffee, black."). It was almost involuntary for her; she didn't have to think, for once. It was a nice break for her to not think about what she would say. She had to do it so much, even if it didn't seem so. It was all the same, until that one day. She came in, like always. The bell chimed when she walked in, like always. He smiled a bit to himself hearing her shoes squeak on the linoleum floor, like always. But, then. What was different? It took him a minute. The diner was eerily quiet. That was it. She didn't order black coffee. She didn't speak. He could hear the sound of the sponge hitting the dishes, the splash of the plate into the sink filled with water. He almost automatically looked toward the place she usually sat. No one else would have noticed it. No one, but him. He had a tendency to do that, notice the littlest of things. Like the way his best friend wore the same color socks every Friday. Or the way the cliché high school bully always looked one way, then the other, then the other way again before pounding a kid. Or, in this case, the way that the girl sat two seats away from her normal red stool. He also noticed her expression—somber. She locked eyes with him, for less than a second. In those eyes, in that moment, he saw so much. He saw hurt, anger, confusion. But then, in a second, it was gone. She moved over two seats, and said, "Coffee, black." It seemed some invisible force in the air had vanished, like in the moment she walked in, everything changed; and now it was back to the normal diner that he had grown accustomed to. Everything was okay. Well, to all the customers who were looking at her, almost expectantly, awaiting her normal words laced with attitude, it was. But it was obvious to him that she wasn't okay. Not in the slightest. But, still she drank her coffee as always. She's good at hiding, he thought as he wiped his yellow rubber gloves on the stained white apron he was adorning. She got up, as always and slammed her money on the table, a sound that was familiar to his ears. And then…before turning on her heel, she locked eyes with him once again (this time intentionally) and gave him the smallest of smiles. It was just a smile, really. Nothing special. Just a perfect—in his eyes—pair of lips curving at the mouth; it could go unnoticed to someone inattentive. But not to him. To him, it was special. And he was right, it was special. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the day his life changed forever and where our story really begins.