Okay, so this is gonna really, really suck because I suck at writing from a guy's POV. I'm just waiting anxiously until I can write it partially from Clare's POV.

This takes place in February 2010, almost a year after Julia died.

Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi or any of it's characters.

Chapter One: Freakshow

The apartment wasn't much – just a bedroom, a kitchen, a bathroom, and the tiniest of living rooms – but it was enough for me and my son. I still wasn't used to saying "my son". I guess I should be – he was turning a year old next month – but I'd always been such a... loner, for lack of a better word, and having someone who was always there was a little unsettling.

Of course, that doesn't mean I don't love him to death – I wouldn't give him up for anything in the world. He was perfect. He'd inherited his mother's wispy, naturally black hair, and his eyes were bright green, just like mine.

I threw my bags onto the bedroom floor and looked out the window. This was a slightly rural area of Toronto, so there were trees, but the road was still pretty busy. Across the street, I saw a girl with long curly hair and a quite annoyed facial expression. I had to admit she was hot, but I felt guilty. Besides, the muscled, tough-looking guy beside her was probably her boyfriend – not that I couldn't take him.

"Come on, Eli!" my dad called, "Help me with the couch!" I silently thanked a god that I didn't believe in that I had a downstairs apartment. I walked out to the moving truck, and with my dad's help, manipulated the couch until it sat perfectly in my living room, which now seemed significantly smaller.

I took Aezen (my son, if you couldn't figure that out) from my mom's arms and looked him in the eyes. He looked back at me and giggled, and I struggled to appear manly (but failed – he was just too damn adorable).

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Elijah?" That was my mom for you – worrisome, overprotective, and just a bit annoying.

"Yes, Mom. It's not like I can change my mind now anyway." I took the last box from the truck and brought it into my bedroom. "And don't call me Elijah!"

It was the truth. There was no turning back at this point. But why would I want to? I was registered for the nearby high school, things were set up for daycare, and I had the best son in the world. Now all that was left to do was make friends – which isn't exactly easy for someone who drives a hearse and can't leave the house without eyeliner.

-!-!-!-!-

I examined the girl two lockers down from me. She was around 5'7" and had short, curly reddish hair and what looked to be blue eyes from what I could see. She wasn't exactly what I'd call hot, but she was cute, I guess.

"Okay, I was flattered at first, but you can stop looking at me now." I was startled – I hadn't even realized she'd been looking at me.

"I'm sorry, you're just so... intriguing, Blue Eyes." I gave her my signature smirk, winked, then headed off to class, lightly brushing my shoulder against hers as I passed her. I could practically feel her eyes following me down the hallway.

I was surprised when she sauntered into my English class and sat herself behind me. Either she was incredibly persistent or I'd completely miscalculated her age. Of course, I didn't really get a good look at her, but I'd assumed she was a sophomore. "You know, you seem pretty innocent for a junior."

She cocked and eyebrow and rolled her eyes. "I'm not a junior, I'm just smart. I'm Clare, by the way, nice of you to introduce yourself. Oh, and that's John, the guy who is actually supposed to be sitting in that seat."

I turned around to see an awkward boy who seemed to be about my age standing there, confused. "Oh, I don't think John minds, do you, John?" I sent him my best I-will-kill-you-if-you-provoke-me smile, and he nodded and scampered off to a different seat. "Anyway, I'm Elijah, but if you ever call me that... well, I'm not afraid to hit a girl."

"Well then, Elijah, what would you like me to call you?" She shot a smirk that almost rivaled mine (almost, but not quite) as the teacher called for the class' attention.

"Call me Eli," I whispered as I turned around to face the front.

"I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other, Eli. So don't make me regret taking 11th grade English."