"So, you can get the Molly, then?"

"Sh. Don't talk so loud." Zig frantically glanced around Degrassi's remedial room, paranoid that our classmates were listening in on our conversation.

I laughed out loud, leaning my chair back, but holding onto the desk so I wouldn't tip over. "You really think anyone in here cares if we roll?"

Zig clenched his jaw, nervously tapping his pencil on his notebook. "Look…" Zig leaned toward me, lowering his voice. "I'm already in enough trouble as it is, Hollingsworth."

I sighed heavily. This kid was so dramatic. I let go of the desk, and let my chair come forward, the legs hitting the floor with a thump.

"This needs to be the best party ever." I impatiently reminded him. "And the only way that's going to happen is if we we really let people enjoy it."

Zig glanced around again, then sighed. "How much are you willing to give me?"

"Think this Vince of yours will be happy with eight?"

Zig's jaw dropped. "H-Hundred?"

I smiled, thrilled by his reaction. "We're going to need a lot. I invited a lot of people."

Zig swallowed, then slowly began to nod. "Okay." He told me. "We'll make it happen."

He needed this as badly as I did.

You see, my dad had been a real dick lately. I mean, he'd always been a dick, but it always got worse during election season. He had it in his head that somehow me being put in the remedial room, or the "rubber room" as we affectionately called it, would look bad for his campaign. He thought if people found out, they'd think less of him because he "couldn't control his son."

Thing is, I didn't really do anything all that terrible. Some of other kids in the rubber room, kids like Zig, were there for fighting, or for selling drugs. I'd never sold drugs. I was caught with a joint in my locker, and I'd skipped class one too many times, but I wasn't, like, a real rubber room kid. Not yet, anyway. This party could definitely change that.

I guess the reason I was so determined to throw the "party of the century," or whatever, while he was out of town, was to prove to him that the voters were right. I would blindsight him, show him that he really didn't have any idea what was going on with me. I wanted him to realize what an ignorant prick he was, and that if people were going to see him simply for what he was, that wasn't my fault at all.

"My parents are getting out right after school." I told Zig, wanting to set a game plan as soon as possible. "Think you can show up around six?"

Suddenly, Mrs. Grell stood up from her desk. She always made the rounds every fifteen minutes or so to make sure we were actually working on whatever bullshit assignment she'd given us. We rarely were.

"Yeah, sure," Zig muttered, nodding passively, and scribbling some nonsense down in his notebook, wanting to look good for her or something. "I'll be there."

I would've liked to see a bit more enthusiasm, but his mere agreement was enough to satisfy me.

After rubber room, I had English with this creepo, Mr. Yates. He was this young guy, probably 25 or so, and he had one of the biggest egos I'd ever seen. The good news was, he didn't believe in "grades" in the traditional sense. He'd pass you just for showing up, and pretending that everything he said was friggen prophetic. Since English was one of my least-favorite subjects, I honestly loved that there was an easy cheat.

That being said, we all made fun of Yates when he wasn't around. Like, honestly, everyone knew he was this big tool, who just made crap up because he was too proud to admit that he didn't know what he was talking about. The only kids who liked him were the drama club kids, and I was pretty sure he was sleeping with half of them.

There was this one guy in my class, Tristan, who was always staying after class to "ask questions." One time, I stayed in the classroom just a minute too long, because I was tying my shoe, and I swear I saw Yates touching Tristan's hand over the desk. They probably didn't think I was paying attention. Honestly, the whole thing disturbed me on a pretty deep level. The worst part was that Tristan seemed like a cool guy. He was always saying hilarious things in class, and talking back to teachers. He was pretty cute too. I was sure he could have done a lot better.

Anyway, when I walked into English that day, I saw Tristan sitting alone. Usually, he sat with this really stuck up girl, Maya Matlin. She was always dragging a cello around and talking about her hotshot boyfriend. Apparently he was this big all-star hockey player for a while, but then he quit the team, and moved away at the end of last year, before I transferred to Degrassi. I guess he decided he was too cool for it or something.

I'm not sure what exactly drove me to take Maya's seat that day. Tristan just looked so… alone. Then again, he always had this tragically lonely look about him. Even when Maya was around, she never really seemed to pay attention to him. I guess part of me wondered if he would stop sleeping with his English teacher if he thought someone else actually cared about him. I know, that sounds weirdly deep, and I honestly wish I could explain why it mattered to me, especially since few other things did. There was just something about Tristan…

I sat down. "Hey."

Tristan looked a little confused. He glanced over his shoulder, to make sure I wasn't talking to anyone else. "…Hey?"

"How's it going?" I asked casually, hanging my leather messenger bag on the back of my chair.

He rolled his eyes, which threw me off. "What? Do you want me to write a paper for you or something?"

"What?" I felt a little attacked.

"Why are you talking to me?" He had his guard up for sure, and that only intrigued me more. He was tougher than I expected him to be.

"Can't I say hello to a classmate?" I asked defensively. "Where's your partner in crime?"

Tristan sighed, frustrated. "Left early for the weekend. Visiting Cam, because they couldn't wait for Spring Break like normal people."

Man, he was sassy.

"Somebody's bitter," I laughed. "What, did her boyfriend break your heart or something?"

"Of course not," Tristan shrugged, not really convincing me. "I don't go after straight guys."

"That makes one of us," I teased. I couldn't help myself. It just kind of slipped out.

Tristan looked at me quickly, clearly shocked.

"I'm kidding," I smirked. "I mean… I'm not. But I didn't want it to sound so…"

He pursed his lips, judging me. "…Rape-y?"

I laughed out loud. "Yeah," I pointed at him. "That."

I could sugar coat this, or I could come right out and tell you… I am a raging bisexual. And after so many years of playing it safe, I've decided I don't really care if guys know I'm hitting on them. Even if a guy seems straight, I don't like to rule out that he could be at least a little bit into other guys. I mean, I seem pretty straight too when I'm hooking up with a chick. But looks deceive.

"Well, I can admire your… boldness." Tristan shrugged. "I should have guessed based on your collection of cardigans that you were…"

"Not gay." I interrupted him. "…But yes. You should have."

He rolled his eyes again, this time a bit more playfully. "You're not gay? You just hit on boys for fun?"

I shrugged. "The heart wants what the heart wants. I don't discriminate."

"Somehow, I doubt that you've been leading with your heart." He accused me.

"Yeah, well… we can't all find 'true love' in the most unlikely of places," I said, doing air quotes. I glanced to the front of the room, at Yates. I'm not sure I meant to. It just kind of happened. Tristan tensed up, glancing at Yates too, probably trying to figure out how much I actually knew.

"Well, being out in High School sucks," He said quickly, pretending he could relate to me.

"Don't I know it," I laughed roughly. "Can't wait until graduation. Luckily, I have plenty of distractions to help me pass the time."

"I'm sure you do." He said flatly. I could tell he was still kind of annoyed that I knew anything at all about him and Yates. It's not like it was really my fault, though.

"Look, I'm having this party tonight," I told him, thinking it best that I change the subject. "I'd really like you to come."

He eyed me suspiciously. He was trying to pretend like didn't trust me, but I could tell by the way the corners of his mouth wiggled ever so slightly, that he was trying not to smile. He loved the attention I was giving him, just like I loved giving it to him.

"I'll have to check my calendar." He told me simply.

"Check away," I told him smoothly. "Just know you're welcome."

"Noted…" He smiled softly.

Suddenly, the bell rang, and Yates made his way to the front of the class. Tristan was still smiling as we got our books out, and Yates gave me the dirtiest look. I just grinned at him, feeling no remorse for the groundwork I had just laid.