Writing on the Wall
Written by Tears of Mercury
A/N: This is a pretty standard one-shot. I'm thinking about adding onto it and possibly making it a whole story centered on the four people referenced in this story (Sean, Emma, Toby, and Jimmy), but it will most likely just stay a one-shot. The idea had been nagging at me for awhile because basically, I thought that Jimmy and Emma probably would have come into contact with each other, whether they wanted to or not, after the shooting. So as of now, I haven't messed with or screwed up the timeline; it takes place the afternoon/early evening of Redemption Song. I hope that you guys enjoy.
Emma stood back. As silly as it was, she was almost afraid that if she got close enough, or, heaven help her, reached out to touch it, she would go up in flames. The mural stretched out, messages of peace and hope and unity scrawled against a backdrop of friends grouped together, laughing and living and hoping. She felt like she was stepping into a church with some deep, unconfessed sin weighing down on her soul. Murder. Cursing the need to see it, to prepare herself for a year and a half of walking past the constant reminder every day, she tapped her fingers against her leg nervously. It was time to go, anyway; dinner would be ready soon. So why couldn't she rip herself away?
The gentle scuff of rubber on the tiled floor, the creak of metal turning ever so slightly, suddenly came to her attention. Emma whirled around, eyes going round as saucers when she saw Jimmy Brooks coming up from behind her. "We finished painting it earlier today," he said, nodding toward the mural.
"It came out really well," she whispered, looking down at her shoes. It was impossible to look him in the eyes; she was so afraid of what she would find if she took the risk.
"I'd like to think so," he replied, his chest expanding ever so slightly. She noticed with amusement that orange paint was splattered all over his clothes, but she didn't bother asking why – most likely, Hazel or Paige had thought to lighten the mood with a paint war. Jimmy wheeled closer, gazing up and studying the wall. "Maybe a little too optimistic, a little too hopeful – not exactly how Degrassi is in real life."
"It's visionary, though," Emma supplied, surprised at how easily the words came. "It's the way that Degrassi should be… the way that it should've been." Her voice lowered as she voiced the last few words, so worried the he would somehow see through them and know, the same way she had known when she saw Sean crying in front of a trailer in Wasaga Beach, struggling to explain why he couldn't possibly come home with them.
"It still can be, though," Jimmy said thoughtfully, fingering the hem of his shirt. They were both quiet for a moment before he shifted his eyes to her face. "I don't know if Ms. Hatzilakos talked to you about it yet, but she said that she wants the three of us – you, me and Toby – to talk about the shooting at an assembly on Monday. For the sake of school spirit and unity, all of that crap. She'd probably try to pull Sean into it too, if he was still here. Anyway, I just thought that maybe the three of us should decide about it together." Emma glanced at the painting, finding Ellie's face among a sea of other nondescript figures, and almost asked him about it in an effort to change the subject. As hard as she tried to focus on verbalizing an answer, it wouldn't come to her. Finally, she shook her head and crossed her arms.
"It doesn't seem right." Jimmy nodded, a hint of a satisfied smirk coming across his face.
"That's what I thought, too. If they're going to dedicate our study period to an assembly like this, they should focus on making the present better, not drudging up the past. Most people don't want to think about it, anyway." She nodded in agreement. No one had been willing to talk – no one, of course, but the guidance counselor and the hundreds of emotional students that hadn't even been there. Manny had bit her lip and looked at the floor whenever Emma tried to bring it up, Spike and Snake would change the subject, and Sean, the one person that she might have been able to run to with the weight of that day, had run in a different direction entirely. Toby had been there for small things: a hand to squeeze when going into school in the morning seemed like too much, a friendly face to offer a sad smile when she came to school with eyes red and puffy. But talk about it, really talk about what had happened that day? She'd never done that with anyone; and Jimmy, she suspected, had never gotten around to it either.
"Do you ever…" she swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to restrain from reaching out for the wall to support her weight when she swayed slightly. "Do you ever have nightmares? About… everything?" For the first time that day, she gathered her courage enough to look into his eyes, surprised by the pain, just barely suppressed and so like her own, that she recognized.
"Almost every night," he answered her, not so much as flinching. Emma looked back at the wall, trying unsuccessfully to quell the heavy sense of guilt in her stomach.
"I'm sorry. It was my fault." The words seemed to free something from her and then turn around and punch her in the stomach. This was the first time that she'd ever admitted the truth to anyone, including herself. Why had it taken her over a year to get to this point?
"Maybe. But it was also Jay's fault, and Alex's and Spinner's and Paige's and… and mine." He frowned at the words, and she looked down, trying to find some sort of emotional bearing. "Does it ever seem weird to you that except for Toby, we were pretty much his only two friends?" Liquid pooled in her eyes suddenly.
"Does it ever seem weird to you that we were the ones that he targeted?" she countered, staring at the mural. Instantly she saw what she hadn't before; faces and features blurred enough to be anyone, their identities only discernable if you knew what you were looking for: Toby staring off into the distance, hiding behind a laptop; Sean, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, garbed in a denim jacket and wearing just a hint of a smile on his face; Jimmy, a basketball resting in his lap as he sat on the steps; and Emma, her hair darkened but her eyes lit with the same fire, as she handed out flyers to a couple of laughing girls. "When did you… why…?" Without missing a beat to decipher the fragmented question, Jimmy shook his head softly.
"I didn't mean for it to happen; didn't even notice it until we had already started painting. I figured that I would sit it out, wait to see who noticed first… nobody did, though. I guess it isn't something that really jumps out at you."
"I haven't handed out flyers for an environmental club function in years. I pretty much handed the reigns over to a couple of impassioned sophomores last year, and just gradually dropped off until I stopped going to meetings altogether," Emma said. "And Sean… I haven't seen that jacket since grade eight. Toby's the only one who looks anything like he is now."
"That was kind of the point. It's too late for us to go back to the way we were then… but this mural was about hope. About a journey. At least for me," he rushed, laughing a little. "To most of the kids in here, it'll probably just look like a painted-in page from a coloring book." Before she knew what she was doing, Emma rested a hand on his shoulder.
"You have a lot of talent. You should study art at university." Jimmy smiled.
"You know, you're the second person to suggest that to me?"
"It must have some merit, then," she replied. After a pause, she said, "I can feel the peace in the picture. How do you get that, Jimmy? How did you get past it all and just express it? How do I do that and finally put it to rest behind me?" His eyes flashed with an emotion she couldn't name but knew well, and he shrugged slightly.
"I'll tell you when I figure it out. I've just learned to live with it. There is no big secret… you just put one foot in front of the other." She laughed softly at the joke. Silence hung in the air, but both of them were reluctant to go. She knew, though, that he needed the same chance that she had had to look at it by himself and make peace with it.
"Well, I think I'll get going. Manny's supposed to be coming over later today, and I still have some homework to do," Emma said, backing away. "It was nice talking to you."
"Same here. And if you ever want to talk again, about anything…" Jimmy cocked his head, smiling a little. "…my door's always open."
"Thanks. I might just take you up on that." As she started walking away, his voice echoed after her.
"Hey, Emma?" She halted, listening intently. "Did you find what you were looking for?" Indecision clouded her for a moment, but a slow assurance gently tugged at the corners of her mouth; she'd found herself here: the old Emma, the new Emma, and the person that lay somewhere in between the two that she finally believed she might be able to be. And that was all that she had ever wanted.
"Yeah, I did."