A/N: Well, talk about a story written on a whim. Started this last night for some reason, and I just kept writing. I don't think it makes much sense, but I enjoy it. It was originally supposed to be about one person, but it ended up being a lot about the person whose POV it was in, because it didn't make much sense for that person not to talk abot themselves at all. I guess, enjoy? It's a little weird, so just bear with me. And ridicule me if you must.

Oh, the song = Avril Lavigne's. The characters = Degrassi's. The story = all mine.

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It was an idle overcast Tuesday afternoon in late April that I uncovered the truth that would've helped me so long before that point. I knew her life wasn't easy, I knew she wasn't tremendously happy, but the tears from her eyes didn't filter through my mind. No...no. There was nothing wrong with her. She was the only sanity left in my life. There was nothing wrong with her. No, stop it, just listen.

I couldn't tell you
Why she felt that way
She felt it every day
I couldn't help her
I just watched her make the same mistakes again

That morning, I'd had an art class first period with her. I had thrown on a sequined tank top and an old pair of low riders--a modest outfit, I guess. I never really thought about it anymore. I guess dressing sexy was just...expected of me. Like some people have perfectionist parents who expect good grades, or people have coaches who expect them to play well. I had peers, who expected me to look like a tramp. And who was I to argue? Manny Santos never lets people down. Well, that morning, we had our painting class together. Kendra and Liberty were in the class with us, too, but I barely noticed before that day, since we sat on opposite sides of the room. Our art teacher, Ms. Charlotte, was old and senile and habitually late for class. There were days when she wouldn't show up at all. I'd always end up being the one to go get her from the teacher's lounge--not because I liked the class; in fact, I didn't like it at all, but because I finally couldn't take it anymore, the people staring and the teasing and the gentle giggling I saw. It never ceased, you'd think they would get tired, but it never stopped, day after day. And they hated me more for getting the teacher but it didn't matter, how much more could they hate me? The saddest part was their ringleader, whispering and smiling proudly.

That morning, we were waiting for Ms. Charlotte and I was wearing my dad's old rainjacket. It was gray and sort of ratty, but it was too cold for tank tops. I looked down and avoided watching people as they tore me apart with their words.

What's the matter, Manny? Raditch make you wear his jacket so no one would realize a total slut goes to our school? Kendra tried to hide her giggles politely, but Liberty laughed out loud.

That's enough, Emma, Ms. Charlotte said from behind her. I saw Emma's face drop as the teacher stepped in front of her, and she glared at me. Her eyes just burned into me. They stabbed like burning knives and I knew that if she apologized for all of this, I'd forgive her in a second and apologize for everything I did wrong, if it meant I could escape from loneliness.

What's wrong, what's wrong now
Too many, too many problems
Don't know where she belongs
Where she belongs

That's why she can't be like this, it's not possible. She was a natural born leader! Leaders are strong and courageous and...and not like this. A couple periods later, I had English class with Kwan. I had a habit of watching Chris from my desk right behind him, and hoping, praying he would turn around and talk to me about Emma, or say something about Emma, or say what Emma was saying about me, even if it was only to say that Emma still thought I was a two-faced lying slut, I just wanted to know if there was any hope, even if there weren't. But this idle Tuesday morning English class gave me more information than any conversation with Chris ever had. I walked into the room early--I got to all my classes early these days, with no one to talk to between classes. Chris was there too, sitting ontop of his desk. I was just about to do my usual thing of sitting and trying to get him to talk to me when I noticed him talking to someone else already. I sat down and he looked at me briefly, acknowledgingly, but he went back to his conversation with the girl sitting next to him....Nicki. With nothing else to do, I paid close but discreet attention to their conversation. And he never outright said it, never told me exactly, but he was flirting, and I could never see Chris cheating on Emma like that. But verbatim, I heard him say it, Maybe you and I could go see a movie Friday. And I knew it had to be true, Chris and Emma had to have broken up. You'd really think I would laugh, shove it in her face, or at least be quietly happy about it, but I kept thinking about Emma. And how Emma felt and how Emma was dealing with it, and when Kwan asked me a question about Othello, I didn't even try to pretend that I'd been paying attention.

She wants to go home
But nobody's home
That's where she lies
Broken inside
With no place to go
No place to go
To dry her eyes
Broken inside

Media Immersion was next, a class I'd learned to hate. In other classes, people could talk about me in hushed whispers, but it was only classes I had with Emma where I would be openly humiliated. She never even cared much if teachers heard. The MI teacher stumbled into the room and stumbled over his polite good morning's, and I watched as Emma stared at him with contempt. I'd heard a lot of people in our class that didn't understand it. But I looked straight into Emma's eyes from across the room, and I understood completely.

Snake had died just a few months prior. The cancer had started spreading in the summer, and in November, this middle-aged man that was here now, Mr. White, came in as our substitute. Snake was in the hospital for so long, and I stared at Emma on the days she was at school, and you can't even understand how much I wanted to reach out and hug her and make her feel all right again. He finally passed away in mid-January. I'd gone to the funeral and stood in the back. I didn't go to the viewing, because I knew Emma wouldn't want me there. Even at the funeral, though, I saw her black cotton dress and tear-stained cheeks, and I was reaching out so far, like she was at my fingertips, but I couldn't hold on firmly.

Open your eyes
And look outside
Find the reasons why
You've been rejected
And now you can't find what you've left behind

Again, we sat far apart from one another. It was just instinct these days. I sat wherever, and she sat wherever she could be farthest from me, like I had the plague. And everyone seemed to be around her--Liberty, Toby...JT. Even Chris wasn't so far away.

Okay, kids, today we're going to go more in-depth into JavaScript... He looked up, and fixed his glasses. Yes, Miss Nelson?

Mr. White, is it really appropriate to be calling us she asked pompously. I think I, along with the rest of the class, would appreciate it if you treated us as the intelligent young men and women that we are. It wasn't Emma. Emma might say something like that, but Emma would never say it like that, never say it to get on a teacher's nerves, never say it unless she had a good reason to.

Thank you for the suggestion, Miss Nelson, the ever-patient Mr. White responded. I'll start over. And he did, replacing with I felt so horrible for him at times, but then I realized--he was in the same position as me, fallen under Emma's fire and unable to get back up on our feet. I sighed, following along to White's directions. He left the room for a minute to take an important phone call, and I silently prayed for him to come back quickly. I knew what would happen as soon as the teacher left the room, in any class I had with Emma.

Be strong, be strong now
Too many, too many problems
Don't know where she belongs
Where she belongs

So, Manny, she started saying, standing up and walking towards me, and the small private conversations that had popped up throughout the room died down as everyone listened to yet another confrontation between Emma and me. Make any new friends lately? I knew where this was heading, but I couldn't stop it anyway. She wouldn't stop, not until she broke me into millions of fragments and every shred of confidence I still had evaporated.

I said weakly, truthfully.

Oh, that's right, she said sarcastically, her words dripping acid and burning my soul as they made their way through my ears. No one wants to be friends with a deceitful whore.

I tried not to look too relieved, as Emma was still staring me down, and I knew it was Mr. White who had saved the day, but the voice didn't sound quite right. Sit down. I turned around slowly, and it was Sean who was sitting there and telling Emma off.

Thanks, Raditch, she said, rolling her eyes. I think I'll pass.

Emma, leave her alone, he said, more forcefully.

And I should listen to you because...? Before Sean could respond, Mr. White came back in the room, and only told Emma to return to her seat. He knew what was going on, that Emma would always seize the opportunity to belittle me. But there was only so much one man could do. The class went on, and I stole glances in Emma's direction. As the class ended and everyone filed out, only Sean and I remained. He grabbed his hoodie off the back of his chair and I looked at him. He looked back, but shook his head.

You really need to learn how to stick up for yourself.

She wants to go home
But nobody's home
That's where she lies
Broken inside
With no place to go
No place to go
To dry her eyes
Broken inside

After lunch, I'd had a free period, and I knew Emma did, too. We weren't supposed to wander the halls during free periods, but I rarely got caught sitting by my locker with a notebook and a light blue gel pen, doodling or writing whatever came to my mind. I sat semi-hidden by the row of lockers as I did this, and I always tried to clear my mind. It never worked very well, but at least I was free from the torture I endured in all of my classes. I began writing: the tick tock of the clock, it never stops until all hope runs out, i'm slipping through the cracks of innocence, you are my final refuge. i know i shouldn't see it...

I was pouring my thoughts onto paper so fast, none of it made sense. I was interrupted, though, when I heard something slam into a locker nearby. I looked down the hallway and there was Sean's friend Jay, about to pummel Emma, and I wanted to run and save her but my legs felt so weak, and my feet were so unsteady and my voice was too weak to yell for help. So I cowered in the corner, like a frightened kitten.

Leave me alone, Jay, I heard her say quietly but confidently. They were keeping their voices down, as classes were going on mere feet away.

Why should I do anything for the girl who's going to get me fucking expelled? he shot back, before pushing her back into the locker. I saw her turn her head to look down the hallway, in my direction. She didn't see me, watching her pained face and witnessing her abuse. If she had seen me, she wouldn't forgive me for not saving her. I brought my feet in closer, my knees hugged tightly against my chest, trying to hide more. I was shaking as I grabbed the edge of the locker and carefully peeked around it. I heard quiet sobs and another slam. Watch your back, Nelson. He stormed down the hallway in the opposite direction, and the sobs grew in volume. I was so scared, for Emma to see me here and know I was hiding from the incident, and to hate me more. I couldn't have that, don't you understand? But she kept walking down the hallway quietly, as I clutched my notebook and closed my eyes. She finally saw me, and I didn't look up at her. I stared at her sneakers, and waited for her to abuse me more. She said nothing. I looked up for a split second and her face was blank, even with bloodshot eyes and drying tears, it was all blank. Comforting words were on the tip of my tongue, but she gave me no chance to let them out. She stomped off towards the doors leading outside.

Her feelings, she hides
Her dreams, she can't find
She's losing her mind
She's fallen behind
She can't find her place
She's losing her faith
She's falling from grace
She's all over the place

In the afternoon, I had felt sick. Not really physically sick, only mentally, but I had still gone to the nurse in the middle of my Math class, and then ran out of his office towards the washroom before he could figure out I wasn't faking it.

I fell onto the floor when I reached the empty washroom and walked into a stall. I was so exhausted, tired of being harassed and tired of willing myself to hate Emma when all I really wanted was to go over her house again, and for things to be like junior high, when we could just hang around and talk about boys and complain about school. I know it's all my fault, and I know I shouldn't even try to fix things, but every day, I observe her, and I find out about her life just by listening and watching. I'd never relied so heavily on my senses. It was just so easy when she could tell me things, whisper in my ear or send me an e-mail or blab on and on about nothing. I'd lied to her, and I'd made terrible decisions but I was sorry. I was beyond sorry, I was begging at her feet for forgiveness like the pathetic loner I'd become. I was beyond desperate. There was no one around to save me from myself, and maybe it was all in my head, like...like I wasn't as lonely as I imagined, and I wasn't as gossiped and whispered about as I'd thought. Maybe I'd been overreacting, maybe my life wasn't that bad, compared to others. But I drove myself insane, doing this. Thinking contradictory thoughts. I needed Emma back. I needed things to make sense.

She wants to go home
But nobody's home
That's where she lies
Broken inside
With no place to go
No place to go
To dry her eyes
Broken inside

I sucked in a breath when I heard the door to the washroom open. I didn't want anyone finding me here, like this, giving them more reason to giggle about me to their friends. I heard sneakers squeak against the linoleum. The silence deafened me. I felt like even my small quiet kitten breaths were loud enough for the whole school to hear. The silence was broken in a moment by gentle sobs. I carefully stood up and looked through the crack between parts of the stall frame. Quiet sobs continued, and I struggled to see who was here, invading my private time, unaware of my presence. Her back was to me, and she leaned over the sink, straw blonde hair falling gracefully from her head. I swallowed the lump in my throat. The quiet sobs stopped abruptly. I panicked, worrying, unsure of what was going on. Worriedly, I opened my stall door quickly and stared at Emma in the mirror. She collapsed on the floor, and I rushed to her side, and I hugged her, and I felt like my eyes deceived me, like this was all a horrible teasing dream, like I would wake up and live my hell once again. Suddenly, though, I needed for it to be a dream. No. No. She was sane, she was fine, I was the screwed up one. She made fun of me and I deserved it, and she lived her happy, healthy life. This wasn't real, I wasn't here, I wasn't...

There was nothing wrong with Emma Nelson.

She's lost inside, lost inside
She's lost inside, lost inside