Author's Note: Okay, this author's note may be quite lengthy. I'm still, of course, writing Get Out and Breaking the Attachment. Starting this story is going to put me behind on those two, but please be patient with me. Also, we're doing all of this crap in school that's making me insane, meaning…a little more to occupy my time. Again, please be patient with me. I will still try to update as frequently as possible. Anyway, this is A/U. Either way, it takes place before even the first season on Degrassi, but focuses on Dylan. It's rare that I focus on Dylan; usually it's Marco, but anyhow, I'm not sure if this is going to be a romance or not because I have an idea of where this is going, but it may change. So, if it does become a romance. It will obviously be Darco :) (I mean, what other pairing is there?! Lol juuuust kidding.) The beginning takes place at the end of Dylan's ninth grade. This one is going to take a while to really "get going" if you know what I mean. I mean, it's not going to have one of those "oh my gosh!" beginnings that I fall for, so I'm sorry. Bear with me. I think I'm about done now. Enjoy and review. (Points for creating one of the longest author's notes in the world? Lol.)

"Dylan, man, let's go! You're, like, off!"

"What?" he asked, coming back to reality. "Oh!"

He'd been daydreaming again, an activity that was lately becoming a common activity of his, much to the dismay of his teammates and coach. "Sorry," he said guiltily.

"All right, I've kept you late enough," said Coach Landau with a laugh, ignoring Dylan's apology. "Go change."

The boys picked up their stuff from the top of the bleachers, all moving together into the locker room.

"Michalchuk," said the coach, causing Dylan to look over his shoulder in apprehension. He motioned for him to come.

Dylan shifted his bag from one shoulder to the other, adjusting his hold on it before he obliged.

"Want me to wait for ya, Dyl?" asked Andrew, leaning against the door to the boys' locker room.

"Nah, go ahead," said Dylan, turning back to face Landau. With any luck, Andrew would be done changing by the time he was done with the conversation.

"What's up?" he asked Dylan, taking a seat up in the bleachers just above Dylan's head.

"I was just about to ask you the same question," said Dylan, confused.

"Well, I notice you've been showing up late to practice almost everyday."

Dylan looked down, feeling embarrassed. "Yeah, sorry," he said lamely.

"I'm not really angry. Just concerned. I mean, I wouldn't want to have to cut you. You're one of my best players," he said, shaking his head. "Well, usually," he added. "Lately, it seems like you're completely uninterested."

"No, of course not!" said Dylan immediately, putting on a scared expression. "I'll do better, I swear."

"All right," he laughed, standing up. "On time from now on?"

"I…well, yes," said Dylan, hoping he was strong enough to keep his promise. Coach Landau clapped him on the shoulder, saying he was free to go. Dylan walked into the locker room slowly, hearing his teammates talking. When he stepped inside, every boy turned to him.

"What happened?" asked Andrew, voicing what everyone else had been longing to.

"Nothing. Just a talk about lateness," he shrugged, dropping his bad on the bench behind his locker.

"Scared the hell out of us, man. We were like, 'what will we do without him on the team'?" said a boy—Joseph—in a fake hysterical tone. "We'd be a couple of girls without our Dylan here."

Dylan laughed only because it was his duty. He wasn't exactly in the greatest of moods. Joseph had finished changing as well as many of the other guys, so they said their farewells, and they headed out.

Andrew sat on the bench near Dylan's bag. "You can go," said Dylan. "It's going to take me forever. I can just call my mom," said Dylan, jingling the lock, pretending he couldn't get it open.

"Want to get rid of me, huh?" he asked. "Let me help."

Andrew came up next to him, turning the small arrow to 18, was he really that close? 24, was it just Dylan's imagination? 38—"Open," he said, stepping back for Dylan to take out what he needed. (My locker combination lol.)

"Thanks," said Dylan, rubbing the back of his neck.

"So, how's Christian?" asked Andrew conversationally. Dylan just didn't understand how Andrew, along with most other boys, he supposed, could change in the locker room without feeling guilty or strange. Dylan was happy Andrew was taking him home quickly, so he wouldn't have to make an excuse as to why he didn't want to shower like the rest of them.

"She's good," he replied, pulling his shirt down over his chest. "Ready?" he asked.

"Yeah," he said. Both of them walked out of the room through the back, meeting Andrew's brother in the car.

"I've been sitting here a while," he said, annoyed. "Everyone else came out."

"Dylan had a talk with the coach," said Andrew, sliding in next to his friend in the backseat.

After his brother started the car, Andrew turned to Dylan again. "So, I still can't believe ninth grade is almost over."

"Random…" said Dylan with a laugh. "I know what you mean, though. It went by so fast."

Summer was coming, which was usually a pleasant thought for Dylan, but there was so much to worry about. He was constantly in the pool…with his friends. Damn, where were all the crazy thoughts coming from? He had a girlfriend—the most wanted girl in the grade, in fact, so why was he trying to screw that up? He wasn't—

"He's so gay."

Dylan was brought back to the current conversation by that…strangely well-timed statement. "What?" he asked.

Andrew laughed. "Welcome back, Dyl. We're talking about some freak in Andrew's math class. I've met him once or twice…"

"Andrew's convinced he's gay, and I kind of have to sit next to him, so thank you for making me think that." He rolled his eyes, concentrating on the road again.

"Oh, this is…my house," said Dylan, thankful for his excuse to get out. He didn't bother saying good-bye, but thanked Seth for the ride, walking up the driveway into his house.

His mother wasn't surprised to see him home so late. However, Dylan was surprised to see Kevin in the kitchen. Kevin, his mother's boyfriend. He tried not to show how visibly disgusted he was to have him in the house.

His mother smiled at him. "No bruises?" she asked, smiling.

"It was a pretty calm practice."

"You hungry?" she asked. "We're having dinner soon."

"I could eat," he shrugged. "I have homework," he said, walking out of the kitchen.

When he walked into his room, he was surprised to find Paige and Hazel already sitting in it.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat, catching their attention.

They both looked up innocently. "Oh, hey, how was practice?" asked Paige, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"Fine," he rolled his eyes, deciding he didn't care if they stayed. He sat down on his bed, flipping open his math binder.

"You're so lucky, Paige," said Hazel, nodding her head in Dylan's direction. "If I were in my brother's room, he'd murder me, really. Yours doesn't even yell," she said, impressed.

Dylan laughed. "Not when we have company," he said, trying to concentrate on the problems.

"Oh, Christina called," said Paige, handing him the phone. "You might want to give her a call back."

"Yeah," he said, playing with the wire on top. "I will, later. After dinner. You staying, Hazel?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Nope," she said, spinning around in Dylan's desk chair. "Now that you mention it, I should probably get going. Bye, Paige," she said, giving her a hug.

"Bye, Dyl."

He waved, letting her close his bedroom door behind her. "Kevin is staying for dinner," said Paige.

"Thanks. I just lost all concentration with my math homework," said Dylan, dropping his pen in frustration. "What the hell does she see in that man?"

"You're so stressed," said Paige.

"Answer my question."

"I don't know…I guess he's a nice guy. He's not as bad as you make him out to be, Dyl."

"Ugh, he is," said Dylan, picking up the pen again, and trying to work. "I just want him to stop trying to invade our family. To just leave."

"He makes mom happy," said Paige, getting up to go back to her bedroom. "Just remember that."

The table was a dark mahogany wood. It was real wood, his mother that had always told him, but Dylan was debating. His main focus during dinner was that very table. In fact, it was quite entertaining to remember all of those stories as to why there was this red dot here and the permanent black ring there.

"Do not use that paint on the table!"

"Yes, mom," said Paige and Dylan at once. Obviously, they hadn't listened.

It was amazing how much fun one could really have staring at a table while trying to get out a dreadful situation.

"So, Dylan," said Kevin, forcing Dylan to look up, "how is hockey going?" he asked.

It was one of Kevin's frequently asked questions. It was probably because he just wanted to "get to know Dylan". Dylan rolled his eyes. His mother gave him that look, so he indulged him.

"Fine," he answered simply, blowing on his spoon at the hot soup.

Maybe that wasn't quite the answer he'd wanted, but he was sure Kevin wasn't so damn surprised. It's all he ever got. He glanced in his mother's direction. She looked very disappointed. He sighed.

"I'm sorry. I'm just too tired to go into it any further. I had a long practice today, you know?"

"Oh, of course," said Kevin. He was always understanding, even though that was Dylan's normal excuse. In fact, the dinners were pretty predictable. In said dinners, Paige and their mother barely even spoke. Pretty awkward.

After dinner, Paige and Dylan left their mother and Kevin alone by retiring to bed. "Dyl," said Paige before going to her bedroom.

"Hmm?"

"I want to…that's your phone," she stated the obvious. Dylan took his cell phone out of his pocket.

"Right! I forgot to call her," said Dylan, completely forgetting about Paige, and closing his bedroom door behind him.

"Okay," said Paige, feeling slightly abandoned.

"Hey, Chris…I'm sorry I didn't call you back," said Dylan. "Kevin's here, and I had so much work to do."

"It's okay," she said sweetly. "You're so busy lately, hmm?"

"Yeah," he replied, pulling his legs up to his chest, pushing the thought of math homework out of his mind among other thoughts.

"So, how'd dinner go?" she asked, concerned. She knew he was less than happy with Kevin being around so much.

"It was fine. I didn't really talk most of—Christina, I think we should break-up." Dylan was sure he must have had another person inside of him, sure he was being possessed because he did not plan for that to come out. In fact, he hadn't even been thinking about it.

"Wh—what?" she was probably a bit more shocked than Dylan. Only a bit. "Dylan, why?" she asked, and Dylan could tell he'd already hurt her badly. He didn't want to break the news that he was apparently being "possessed" too. That might have made things worse; he didn't need her thinking he was insane.

"I just…" he decided to explain what he hadn't even known he'd been feeling. "I really like you, Christina. I just don't think I can do this anymore. It's…complicated."

"What is?" she asked, and it sounded to Dylan like she was crying. "Just tell me."

"Christina, I can't explain it, okay? Don't hate me."

There was silence for a moment, and Dylan waited for her response. "I could never hate you, Dylan." She hung up.

Author's Note: Please review.