Disclaimer: I do not own characters or settings from Degrassi. Just the stuff between the proper nouns.
Emma, Inc.
Standing on the sidelines of the club where the Purple Dragon Mystery Concert was taking place, Emma crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Natasha in her skin-tight, mini-skirted purple Purple Dragon dress. She sure has gotten far in life, Emma thought sarcastically, remembering their encounter at Degrassi. 24 years old and she's already selling energy drinks – a big step up from lemonade –, not to mention selling her body and her soul!
Aloud, she commented sourly, "Is there any pie Purple Dragon doesn't have its fingers in?"
"Aw, come on, Em," Manny whined. "Can't you get over that already? It was months ago!"
"No, Manny, this is now," Emma said sternly. "Purple Dragon bought out Degrassi and now they think they can buy Craig. What else are they 'sponsoring'? Who else are they sucking the life out of?"
"I don't know, Emma," Liberty said off-handedly, her eyes on the widely-smiling Craig, rocking out on stage. "Craig seems pretty okay with it. Purple Dragon is helping him make a name for himself."
Emma's head swivelled toward Liberty, her eyebrows high on her forehead. "You're okay with this, Liberty? You're the one who started the whole protest against Purple Dragon at Degrassi!"
Liberty cocked her head and smirked. "And you're the one who ended it."
Emma couldn't help but smirk as well, remembering how she had made a mockery of Natasha and Purple Dragon's so-called sponsorship. "Yeah I did, didn't I?"
"Who knows," Liberty continued. "Maybe you're destined to be a corporate mole, bringing down evil operations from the inside."
"Now can we please go dance?" Manny begged.
Emma nodded and she and Liberty followed Manny to the dance floor. Still, just looking toward the stage with all its banners and posters pedestalizing a stupid purple energy drink made her sick to her stomach. Her birthday-suit antics at Degrassi had changed things there, but it did little to change the face of corporate sponsorship in the real world. That fight seemed hopeless. So for now, she would just dance.
-
The next day, Emma headed across the Smithdale campus to meet with the dean of admissions.
"Nice to meet you –" The curly-haired man consulted his little black book. "– Emma."
Emma smiled smally as she took a seat in front of his desk and folded her hands in her lap.
"Smithdale is very excited to offer its services to such an excellent student as yourself. Your grades and extra-curriculars are outstanding. And I'm sure you'll find our facilities up to par with your expectations of excellence."
"That I may," Emma said, but her politeness was halting. She was anxious to cut to the chase and find out more about potential programs and if there was an environmental club on campus. "So when can I –"
"I have some excellent news for you, Emma," the dean said, pulling up some files on his computer. "Smithdale is able to offer you a full scholarship for your first year, with renewal subject to an A- average in all of your courses."
Emma's mouth dropped open. She had come here to talk about the environmental club and found out she was getting a full ride to university! If she didn't have to use the savings her mom had started for her then that could be kept for putting toward her own house, or maybe a car, or…better yet, starting her own real, professional, environmental lobby group. Duh, Emma, get your priorities straight, she chided herself. Owning a car was hardly in line with her political beliefs. Still, the point is, she reminded herself, my education is going to be paid for in full!
She snapped to as she realized the dean was still talking.
"…and we're very grateful here at Smithdale to have a partnership with Flexosmith Industries. Barney Archipelago Smith Hall is named after one of Flexosmith's co-founders! And –"
The smile erased from Emma's face. "What exactly are you saying? Why are you telling me about Flexosmith?" She had heard of the company and was certainly no fan of their way of doing business.
The dean looked surprised. "Well, because Flexosmith is sponsoring your scholarship, of course!"
"WHAT?!" Emma leaped from her chair. She slammed her hands down, fingers spread, on the desk, and leaned intimidatingly toward the dean, who quickly rolled himself back in his cushy yet ergonomic chair. Emma lowered her voice a shade but did not budge from her position. "You mean to tell me that Flexosmith – the same Flexosmith that pours hundreds of thousands of tonnes of carbon dioxide into the air every year, the same Flexosmith that produces 'Never-Die Styrofoam and Plastics,' meaning nonbiodegradable styrofoam and plastics, the same Flexosmith that has been identified by the National Centre for Occupational Health and Safety as one of the most negligent employers in Canada, and finally, the same Flexosmith that has ties to arms-producers in the States – is trying to buy my soul by paying for my education? I don't think so!"
"Er…take a seat, my dear," the dean suggested nervously, indicating the empty chair. He was clearly flustered. "At Smithdale we only want to offer our students what they deserve. Your grades and extra-curriculars are top-notch, and –"
"Exactly," Emma agreed. "So, what, they think they can change my mind about the environment and social justice and stop someone as smart as me from getting a degree that will help me put an end to people like them?" She was beginning to realize that Purple Dragon was a peanut operation compared to what else was out there. And she sure as hell wasn't going to let Flexosmith claim ownership of her education.
The dean had regained some of his bearings. "I'm afraid," he stated gravely, now regarding her over the frame of his glasses, "that if you turn down this excellent offer, we will give it to another excellent student as soon as you walk out that door."
"You do that," she replied in just as grave a tone. "Good day, Dean." And she walked out.
-
Back at the sorority house, Liberty practically mauled Emma as she walked in the front door. She was shrieking, "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!"
"What, what, what is it?" Emma asked.
Liberty held up her cell phone. "Smithdale just called! They said I'm going to get a full scholarship next year! And it's renewable provided I get all A-minuses."
"Which of course she will," her cousin said proudly, wrapping her arm around Liberty's shoulders. She tossed her head. "It's in our genes."
Emma crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. "Let me guess – it's sponsored by Flexosmith?"
"How'd you know?" Liberty asked. "Oh wait, did you get one too?"
"No!" Emma almost shouted. "I turned it down about ten minutes ago!"
"Are you crazy?" Liberty cried. "I mean, it's good for me apparently, but…are you crazy?"
"No, I'm not, Liberty! I'm standing up for what I believe in!" She stamped her foot. "And what about you? You're all talk! As soon as corporate sponsorship benefits you, you're all for it?"
Liberty glanced at her cousin, who winced and slowly left the room. She took Emma by the arm and led her to the sofa, then sat down across from her on the coffee table. "Look, Emma, I know how strongly you feel about this. But sometimes you need to take what you can get. If some stupid corporation is willing to spread around their wealth to us little people, we need to take it. They're not mandating what I study, or the thoughts that I think. They can't control me. It's kind of like I'm controlling them, because you're right, I'm the one who's benefitting from them and their money."
Emma bit her tongue. Maybe Liberty was right. Her heart sank. Had she done the wrong thing? How would she tell her mom and Snake that she had just sacrificed the chance of a lifetime?
Still, something deep inside of her soared. For herself, she had definitely done the wrong thing. But in general? – she had definitely done the right thing. If more people like her just said "no," if everyone just said "no," then corporate greed would cease to hold its power over everything – from music to high schools and even to post-secondary education…and who knows what else.
Emma might be a poor student on student loans from the government with just a bit of help from her savings. But she suspected that, somehow, she was on a pretty hopeful path.