Author's Note: Hey! It's been a while since I've been really active in the Degrassi fandom, but I bring forth a new story that had been brewing in the back of my mind. I had been fascinated with the infamous Heather Sinclaire and her background, and, although the story surrounds mostly her non-canon little sister, this isn't your typical original character fic! This is set way after Emma breaks up with Peter and ends up with Sean. (Come on, they're destined, and I don't need to wait for The-N to tell me that!) Anyway, now that I've babbled on sufficiently, I hope you enjoy the story!

"I've failed"

Mona stared blankly at her reflection in the floor-length mirror, right in the corner of her bathroom.

"I've failed," she repeated in the same monotonous voice. Mona could have torn her pencil straight hair out. She could have opened her windows and screamed obscenities into the night. She could have done several other uncharacteristic things, actually. Never before had Mona Sinclaire failed a test. This test, as it happened, was her driving exam, the very exam Mona spent hours of study and practice for. It was the one exam her boyfriend could help her with, and Mona had failed it.

She began examining herself in the mirror: lightly tanned skin, unpainted nails, skinny legs and a flat stomach from all those hours at the gym, a thin face with an average nose, striking brown eyes, and behind all that, an intelligent brain that scared her friends at times. Her thin lips were wobbling slightly as she fought back tears. How could she become so emotional about one inadequate test? She could retake it two weeks later, anyway.

Mona pulled on a white Degrassi Community School sweatshirt and tiptoed downstairs. Her father was presumably sleeping at this point and her mother was on a business trip, but Heather was unquestionably awake, curled up in front of the television.

Heather sipped on an ice cold glass of water, her eyes glued to the screen as she flipped through channel after channel, finally settling on some nonsensical MTV dating show. Who knew? All MTV shows looked the same to her. She glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see Mona coming downstairs. "You okay?" she called out. Of course, she was naturally disappointed that her younger sister didn't pass the driving exam (she had taken three times before passing), but, secretly, she was glad there was that one mark on Mona's unblemished record. Heather tugged a sock back onto her foot and waited for a response.

"Fine," was Mona's simple answer; she muffled slightly by the refrigerator.

Heather sighed and turned her concentration to some gay guy named after a Norse deity. Mona was like that all the time- detached, never expressing herself, keeping everything bottled up within. It privately annoyed her to death. At times, she could want to slap Mona and yell, "Say something besides the fact that you're fine! Anything! Jeez, Mona, can you whine once in a while?" Sure, it was hypocritical for her to keep those opinions bottled up, but she could never yell at Mona; it was almost illegal to do so.

"What are you watching?" Mona asked, now holding a small apple juice box as she reached for the salted peanut tin in the pantry. Heather looked at her for a split second before shrugging shamefacedly. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she headed to her favorite striped loveseat in front of the window, collapsing with a muted sigh. Immediately, Heather stuck out her arm, reaching across the table for a grab at the peanut tin. Mona held it just out of reach, giggling as her older sister fumbled around, before leaning forward even more. After a few minutes of diminutive conversation, the sisters fell into a comfortable, pleasant silence, a silence they were both very accustomed to, save for the yells from the television.

Just then, the phone rang. Both siblings sat up in surprise, Heather, ultimately groaning, once she realized it was time for Peter's nightly call. It was something about Mona's boyfriend that seriously rubbed her the wrong way; she simply couldn't put her finger on it. It vexed her that Mona didn't care about Peter's Manny's Boobs scandal or how the kid always seemed dubious. Regardless of Heather's reaction, Mona dove for the phone and scurried away into the foyer.

"Hello?" she almost whispered into the phone, a rare smile spreading across her pretty face. "You're a few minutes late."

""Sorry, Mona," Even his voice could make her smile still broader. "I got into an argument with Mom about a mutual dislike between Madame Goldberg and me. How are you feeling?"

"Considerably better," she mused, shrugging, though she knew he probably couldn't see her do so. Mona paced across the floor in her bare feet, as she always did while on the phone with somebody. Her feet slapped softly against the dark tiles. "I'm watching bad television with Heather and that always makes me feel better."

"Too bad," he replied in an offhanded voice.

"'Too bad,' what?" Mona stopped pacing back and forth.

"You might just have to look out the window."

"Are you stalking me?" she asked lightheartedly, heading over to the window by the front door. And, sure enough, there was her boyfriend, leaning against his fancy car, holding a box of chocolate-covered mint Oreos and two mini cartons of milk. Mona gasped as she hung up the phone and whipped off her sweatshirt, opting for her favorite red pea coat. She slid on her ballet flats and hurried outside, running theatrically into his arms; it was only when they were alone that Mona permitted herself to act childishly. He had set the food items on the roof of his convertible and snaked his arms around her thin waist, smiling broadly into her kisses.

"You deserve a reward for going through a nerve-wracking test like that," he said, once they had situated themselves in the backseat of his car. Mona leaned against him and immediately, his arm went around her shoulders. "Now we have more time to, you know, review more." He smiled at her in that suggestive way of his and tilted his head down to kiss her slowly, his arms tightening the embrace. Mona, not at all taken by surprise by his display of affection, slid her own lean arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Peter slid one hand onto her hip, slowly traveling up until it lightly cupped her breast as he pushed her onto her back.

Mona pulled back, staring up at Peter with wide eyes, meeting his own ardent ones; they had gone this far before, but she could sense he was expecting more out of it this time. "Peter, I-" he interrupted her with a fervent kiss and she lost her train of thought, losing herself again. Peter gently squeezed her breast, smiling into the kiss as he heard her moan ever-so-quietly. He had never waited this long with Emma, but one had to take their time with a girl like the one in his arms. He released her and moved to unknot the drawstring on her loose-fitting pajama bottoms.

Meanwhile, she was having quite an inner dilemma, to put it lightly; Mona honestly liked Peter, she really did, but she already had a reputation as Degrassi's principal prude and were his intentions with her good? A massive part of her wanted to give in to Peter, to be with him, to experience her first time with him. And, yet, another part of her, a minor, less significant part, reminded her of Peter's history, especially with an inebriated Manny Santos. "Peter," she sighed breathily, putting a hand over his before the ribbon was undone, "I really can't… I just-"

"I love you, Mona?" he tried, smiling that half grin that Peter knew melted a part of the impenetrable Mona Sinclaire.

"Don't even try that with me, Mister Cliché Teen Movie."

He smiled down at her, glad that he was probably the only one lucky enough to see the girl in this state- hair disheveled, eyes half-open, lips puffed and pink from kissing. So, maybe she was the only girl he dated that would make him wait, and maybe she was one of the biggest overachievers on earth, but, somehow, that made him want her even more. "I mean it." It really felt good, finally coming out and expressing it. Her reaction was totally worth it, as well—meaning that she let out a girly squeal and nearly knocked him backwards, giving him a mind-blowing kiss Peter wasn't quite used to.

"I love you too," she whispered into his ear as she leaned forward, playing with his messy blond hair, inadvertently pressing herself to him. This small motion struck something within Peter and he pulled her to him, his slightly open mouth meeting hers in a fierce kiss, gently biting her bottom lip every so often. Mona looked rather taken aback as she resurfaced for air. "I have to go now," she whispered slowly, adjusting her clothes as she sat up straight.

Peter followed suit and fondly brushed some hair away from her flushed face. "I'll pick you up tomorrow," he replied, kissing her tenderly before exiting the car and running around to open the door for her.

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Heather let out an obnoxious groan as she stumbled out of bed, tugging up her low-slung pajama shorts. The Sinclaire household was completely empty at this point, Dad at work, Mom in Michigan, and Mona at school, leaving Heather to schlep around even more and do as she pleased. She trudged to her personal bathroom, originally intending to pee before catching her reflection in the mirror.

She made a face; what she saw was horrible. "What the fuck happened to me?" she muttered quietly and bitterly, running a hand through her tangled, highlighted hair. The bags under her big hazel eyes were unbecoming, her nose looked like a plastic surgery gone amiss, and her face was sweaty from sleeping under several layers of blankets.

Heather had been the most popular girl in school her entire life. And then, something changed. Suddenly, her luck twisted; it was the fall of the Heather Empire and the rise of Paige. She remembered Paige had changed herself in the beginning of eighth grade, but she hadn't really thought about the consequences. Heather thanked her lucky stars that high school was over and she no longer had to think about who would be insulting her today, who would make a comment about her nose or what embarrassing thing she would do or say at a party.

The graduating class of Degrassi would soon forget about poor old Heather Sinclaire and she could finally come out of hiding.

She trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen after throwing on a navy hoodie over a lacy pajama tank top. Heather wasn't a coffee drinker, so she popped a cup of instant hot chocolate into the microwave. Her bare feet were cold against the mosaic tile floor. Heather stood on her tiptoes, observing the Mediterranean-themed kitchen as if she hadn't been living in that house her entire life. Her house was perfect, her clothes were perfect, her parents were perfect, and even her little sister was perfect. Where did she go wrong?