In Defense of Clare
Chapter 1: Witness for the Prosecution
A Note from the Author: This is my first foray into fan fiction. Thus far, I have kept quietly behind the scenes. However, with the recent anti-Clare campaign surging through the fandom after Nowhere to Run, I felt compelled to say something. This is my response to all of those claims that Clare is lost – that she is unredeemable – that she is not good enough for Eli - that she needs a punch in the face - that she will be entirely unlikeable until she has humbled herself and apologized. Truth be told, I don't think that Clare has anything left for which to apologize. Her behavior and actions are fairly understandable given her situation. You may not like the choices she makes, and you are perfectly welcome to not like Clare. However, making her out to be a ruined character or some sort of heartless villain is, in my opinion, cuckoobananas or, at the very least, overly dramatic and unfair.
What follows is a parody, written in three acts. And before I get any notes claiming that Mr. Edwards would never act like this, let me state again – this is a parody. I chose Mr. Edwards to be the spokesman for the anti-Clare movement because of the delicious irony involved in such a choice.
Let me state also that I do not own Degrassi or its characters. I also do not own Law and Order.
Finally, a tip of the hat to the late, great mystery writer Agatha Christie for the title of this chapter.
The scene opens in a crowded courtroom. The camera pans past row after row of spectators, angry and muttering under their collective breath. It focuses briefly on the judge's bench where three figures are locked in a contentious debate before it moves swiftly to focus on a small girl seated at the defendant's table. She looks tiny, bundled up in layers, as if trying to insulate herself from the hostility of the room. Her blue eyes are clouded with confusion, standing out sharply against the pale white of her face. She looks drained and exhausted. Her name is Clare Edwards, and she has been charged with a crime so heinous that she fears for her future, if convicted. She has been charged with the unforgivable crime of "acting out of character" complied with the crime of being a "totally annoying, bitchy, drama queen." This is her story. (Cue gratuitous Law and Order music).
...
The courtroom was cold. Even in both her heart patterned sweater and her denim jacket, Clare could feel the goose bumps rippling over her arms, as she jolted upright in an involuntary shiver.
Her lawyer was currently in a heated discussion with the judge and the prosecutor – a discussion to which Clare wasn't privy. Instead of trying to make out the muffled arguments from the judge's bench, Clare let her eyes roam the courtroom. It was packed today. And if Clare thought that the temperature of the room was freezing, it was nothing compared to icy stares of the spectators.
"Whore," - a whispered hiss from the back of the room.
"…he is way too good for her," from her left.
"…totally ruined… unredeemable."
"apologize...selfish, selfish..."
"… so done with her. …needs a punch in the face."
Willing herself not to cry, Clare turned back to face the front of the courtroom. How did she get here? What had she done to deserve such persecution? Why did everyone hate her so much?
"It's because of Eli," she thought to herself. "Everything begins and ends with Eli." Tears pricked behind her eyes threatening to spill, but she quickly shook her head and swallowed the sob that had collected in the back of her throat. She was good at hiding her emotions. She had learned at an early age that she just had to "grin and bear it." It was selfish to show emotions – selfish, selfish, selfish. And, above all else, Clare Edwards must never be selfish.
Her lawyer strode back to the defense table, an annoyed look on his face. He leaned down in front of Clare, blocking her from the view of the spectators. "Now don't panic," he muttered softly, "but the judge is going to allow the prosecution to call you before they rest their case."
"Wait! What?" Clare whispered shrilly." They can't call me for their side. I'm the one on trial. I shouldn't even have to testify, if I don't want to. This is completely preposterous, not to mention illegal!"
"Shhh," her lawyer chastised. "Look, I brought up the legality of this maneuver over and over again. But look at who the judge is." Clare glanced up to meet the eyes of Judge Dawes – art teacher, English teacher, drama teacher, LARPing queen extraordinaire, and also, apparently, a certified judiciary official.
"Ever since Love Roulette, Dawes has been Eli Goldsworthy's biggest fan, " Clare's lawyer continued. "You know as well as I do that, as soon as she read the first draft of Goldsworthy's play, Dawes should have shipped him off to Sauve, if not to County General. Yet, what did Goldsworthy get? Standing ovations and ringing accolades. He can do no wrong in her eyes."
"Holy hell, I'm screwed," Clare breathed, her heartbeat racing.
"You can't think like that. You are a strong girl, Clare. You are a smart girl. If anyone can get you out of this, Clare Edwards can. Just tell the truth. Be precise. Be logical. Oh, and don't curse or take the Lord's name in vain up on the stand. The jury still thinks of you as cute, little Christian Clare in the school girl's uniform. They don't want change."
"But I'm 16 now. Everything in my life has changed since I started Degrassi," Clare argued. "Of course, I'm a different person." She shook her head violently, "Look at my hair! I don't wear glasses anymore! Hell, I even write smutty, vampire fan fiction!"
Her lawyer leaned in closer, a hard look in his eyes. "Your changes are what got you into this mess, girly. Remember that."
"The prosecution calls Clare Edwards to the stand."
Clare didn't know how she was able to stand and walk the few meters to the witness box, but somehow she found herself seated and her hand placed on the Bible.
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"
"I do," she whispered.
"Your honor," the prosecutor queried, "if it please the court, at this time, I would like my esteemed colleague, Randall Edwards, to take over the prosecution's case."
"Dad?" Clare choked out. She couldn't believe it.
Randall Edwards, looking refreshed- the tired lines gone from under his eyes, the tenseness of his jaw relaxed- stood and walked towards the front of the courtroom. Clare hadn't seen her father in a while – certainly not since finding out that it was his infidelity that had caused the dissolution of her parent's marriage. He looked good, as if bachelorhood agreed with him.
"Thank you, Your Honor," Mr. Edwards stated. He walked towards the witness box.
"Hey, Clarebear," he said with a wink. "You look so grown-up on the witness stand. I can't believe my baby girl is on trial. Seems like just yesterday you were playing robots with all of your nerdy friends. "
"Dad, what are you doing?" Clare hissed, leaning forward in her seat. "I haven't even seen you since the divorce, and now you are prosecuting me. How can you do this to me, Dad? I'm your daughter, or had you forgotton?"
"Oh, Clare, you silly girl," Mr. Edwards admonished, ruffling her hair, "this is exactly why you are up here on trial. You make everything about you – you, you, you," he teased, punctuating his final words by poking Clare in the nose.
"But this is about me!" Clare cried, swatting her father's hand. "I am the one on trial, and apparently you are the one trying to get me convicted." Her voice rose in pitch as her face flushed. "Not only did you abandon me after the divorce, but you are now prosecuting me?" She turned towards the judge, "Isn't there a conflict of interest here?"
"Cheese and crackers, Clare! Are you still harping on about the divorce?" Mr. Edwards droned. "Clare, don't you know that your mother and my divorce affected more than just you? Your mother was devastated – well, she was devastated before she started drinking wine with supper and making booty calls. And, truth be told, she is doing pretty well right now- what with her new marriage to Glen and all. He's definitely a looker. Say what you want about Helen, she sure knows how to catch attractive men." He paused to smugly adjust his tie. "I'm great, by the way. Sleeping with numerous women is not as exciting now that I am not committing a mortal sin, but hey, it's still sleeping with multiple women, am I right?" he asked, fist-bumping one of the male jury members.
"But I digress," Mr. Edwards continued. "Clare, you keep complaining about what the divorce has done to you. What about everyone else? What about poor Darcy in Kenya? Did you ever think about how this divorce would affect her?"
Clare opened her mouth to speak but was cut off.
"No! Clare Edwards only thinks about herself, constantly whining about her parents' divorce- and in multiple episodes, mind you." Here Mr. Edwards paused to look at the jury, "as if divorce constitutes a big deal in the Degrassi Universe!" He turned back to Clare, his eyes alight. "Were you born physically the wrong gender? Have you had to deal with OCD and a bipolar diagnosis? Have you ever been forced to sleep with a gangster and sell drugs just to keep your high school boyfriend safe? Have you, Clare Edwards, had to beg your birth mother for a new kidney and ask your alcoholic best friend buy a $20,000 prom dress in order to get off of dialysis?"
"No," Clare answered quietly. "I haven't had to deal with any of those issues."
"And yet," Mr. Edwards continued, "you expect the fans to have sympathy, even empathy, for you because your parents divorced? Surely you jest, Ms. Edwards. Surely you jest."
"But you guys were married for almost 20 years," Clare pleaded. "You taught me that divorce was a sin –that adultery was a sin. My stable, sheltered family life was one of the foundations of my character - as was my faith in what the Bible teaches. Of course, I would be upset and angry to have my stability and faith unceremoniously ripped from me. Any child would, if put in my situation. I reacted normally."
"Hah! You reacted normally? Normally?" Mr. Edwards shrieked. "Is it a normal, adolescent reaction to stay out PAST curfew and get a cartilage piercing? Is it a normal reaction to dress up like some gothic punk rocker for a day – A DAY!—and get a detention? Is it a normal reaction to throw yourself at your boyfriend and offer to sleep with him? Oh ho! You didn't think I knew about that one did you, Missy? I just thank God that your boyfriend at the time was a gentleman – and by gentleman I mean a hoarder suffering from OCD who was too ashamed to show you his room." He paused breathing hard. "And really, Clare, is it a normal, adolescent reaction to be so whiney about the whole divorce – to want to stay in the family home – to not support your mother's impetuous and hasty second marriage to your boyfriend's father?"
"Um… yes," Clare stuttered. "I think all of my reactions were pretty typical reactions to the divorce. I would think that anyone who has had to watch their parents go through a divorce would be able to relate to me."
"Well, do you want to know what I think?" Mr. Edwards spit out. "I think you are incredibly annoying!"
"Dad!"
"What? It's a common fan complaint," Mr. Edwards shrugged.
"Let the record show that Ms. Edwards is whiny and annoying," Judge Dawes ordered.
"But, Judge, "Clare's lawyer interjected.
"I'm sorry," Judge Dawes apologized. "If Ms. Edwards had kept her unhappiness about the divorce to just one episode, you might be able to make a case here. But since she still complains about it, I will have to side with the prosecution."
"But I still have to live with the consequences of their divorce," Clare argued.
"Ms. Edwards, were you beat up by a gang while half of Toronto stood by watching? No! Were you tasered by your best friend so that he could impress a gang of basketball playing, French fry lovers? No! Did you have to give up your infant son so that you could play your guitar without worrying about said baby falling off the changing table! No? Then I suggest you be quiet." Judge Dawes smoothed her hair and adjusted her glasses, "Mr. Edwards, continue."
"Thank you, Your Honor. At this time, I would like to specifically address the crimes that Clare Edwards has committed against one Mr. Elijah Goldsworthy."
"Wait a minute," Clare sputtered. "Crimes I committed against Eli? Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack," Mr. Edward replied smirking. "Or should I say, as a panic attack?"
"What the heck is that supposed to mean, Dad? Are you insinuating that I am somehow responsible for Eli's mental condition?"
"Well, if the headband fits, Ms. Edwards - if the headband fits."
"That doesn't even make sense," Clare said exasperatedly.
"Actually, it is entirely apropos," Mr. Edwards explained. "I not only alluded to the infamous OJ Simpson 'glove fitting line,' but I also subtly commented on your propensity for wearing headbands that make you look like you are eight."
"Dad!"
"The truth hurts, Princess."
"Your Honor," Mr. Edwards turned to the judge, "the prosecution attests that Clare Edwards willfully, knowingly, and maliciously hurt Elijah Goldsworthy repeatedly during their three month relationship as well as in the months following their split as a couple."
"How do you plead on these counts, Ms. Edwards?" Judge Dawes queried.
"Well, I broke up with Eli because he was unstable, and I'm sure he was hurt, but I didn't do anything maliciously….."
"Ms. Edwards," the Judge sharply interrupted, "how do you plead?"
"Um… not guilty?" Clare offered, her voice uncertain.
"Mr. Edwards, the floor is yours."
"Thank you, Judge Dawes." Mr. Edwards paused, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Ms. Edwards, let's start at the beginning. How did you and Mr. Goldsworthy meet?"
"He ran over my glasses."
The courtroom erupted in oohhs and heartfelt sighs. Muffled parts of conversations could be heard.
"… so romantic…"
"…such a gentleman…"
"…wish he would have run over her instead."
Judge Dawes took off her glasses and fanned herself before calling for order.
"Ms. Edwards, did the two of you start dating right away?" Mr. Edwards continued.
"No, we were attracted to each other but also kind of annoyed by each other. Plus, Eli was still grieving his girlfriend Julia who died one to two years ago."
"What do you mean one to two years ago? When did she die?" Mr. Edwards asked, perplexed.
"It depends on which episode you watch."
"Intriguing," Mr. Edwards mused, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "So you didn't date right away. What was your relationship like in the beginning then?"
"Well," Clare reminisced, smiling for the first time since taking the stand, "at first, we were fairly antagonistic towards each other, but then Mrs. … er… Judge Dawes made us writing partners."
Judge Dawes smiled and nodded her head. "Sylvia Path and Ted Hughes," she murmured fondly.
"Why don't you make like Path and kill yourself!" screamed someone in the galley.
"He's too good for you!" screamed another.
"Imogeli forever!" screamed a third.
"Order! Order!" Judge Dawes commanded, pounding her gavel.
"So then," Mr. Edwards continued after the noise had died down, "it was a natural progression from friends to romantic partners?"
"Well, not really," Clare admitted. "After our first kiss for um…Judge Dawes' Romeo and Juliet project, Eli pushed me away. He wasn't over his ex-girlfriend and was afraid of opening himself up again."
"As he should have been, Ms. Edwards. As he should have been."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Clare asked indignantly, the blood rushing to her cheeks.
"Never mind," Randall Edwards shrugged, winking at the jury. "So when did you two finally start dating?"
"Um .. well, Eli was embroiled in what I guess you could call a feud with another student."
"Are you referring to Mr. Mark Fitzgerald, formally of Degrassi, now residing in the Degrassi Bermuda Triangle?"
"Yes, with Fitz. Things got pretty bad, and, to prevent Fitz from beating the living daylights out of Adam and Eli, I set off a stink bomb."
"Does your proclivity for criminal activity know no bounds?" Mr. Edwards boomed, holding up his hands in shock.
"Dad, it was one lousy stink bomb. I served detention for it. Besides, no one except you and Simpson gave me crap about it. People loved snarky, rebellious Clare, as long as she was with Eli." She paused, a soft look on her face. "Apparently Eli also loved snarky, rebellious Clare, because it was just after this incident that he kissed me, and we made things official."
"Cute," Mr. Edwards deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "So the two of you decided to start a relationship, and everything was copasetic?"
"Actually no," Clare interjected. "Very little was ever copasetic when the two of us were together. Fitz threatened to hurt Eli and Adam if I didn't attend Vegas Night with him. So, as much as I wanted to go with Eli, I agreed to go with Fitz. Eli was furious and wanted me to spike Fitz's drink with Ipecac."
"Really the only rational response to a situation like this," Mr. Edwards mused, looking at the jury for confirmation.
"What? No! It was a completely irrational response. I refused, of course," Clare explained.
Mr. Edwards shook his head sadly.
"However, through some pretty smooth negotiations," Clare continued, "I convinced Fitz to drop the feud - I just needed Eli to apologize."
"That's preposterous! Mr. Goldsworthy apologize? For what, may I ask? It's simply absurd! It would ruin his entire character!" Mr. Edwards shouted.
"No, really, it was a great plan. But Eli just had to get in the last word. He went ahead and spiked Fitz's drink with the Ipecac, and Fitz ended up being humiliated in front of the whole school.
"Hurrah, for Mr. Goldsworthy," Mr. Edwards sang, as the courtroom exploded in applause.
"No, no. It was terrible. Fitz ended up coming at us with a knife - a KNIFE. We both could have died," Clare cried, closing her eyes at the memory.
"But you didn't," Mr. Edwards shrugged, examining a hang nail on his left hand. "Truth be told," he yawned, "it was a pretty anti- climactic episode." The spectators nodded in agreement.
"Well, we didn't get hurt," Clare affirmed, "but that was no thanks to Eli."
"Yes, yes, yes," Mr. Edwards intoned, moving his hand like a talking mouth. "But I would like to fast forward to the first real wrong you committed against Mr. Goldsworthy. Yes, I am speaking of the infamous Taco Night at the Edward's household."
"God, Dad," Clare groaned. "Do we have to bring that up? I was upset. You guys were fighting every night - horrible fighting. I thought that if I could get you both mad at me, you would at least be allied in something."
Whirling around, Mr. Edwards slammed his fist on the Jury partition. "Did you, Clare Edwards, invite Eli Goldsworthy over to dinner at our house with the willful intent of making him seem like a badass muthafucker?" he shouted.
"Dad, Eli had just finished serving a suspension for poisoning another student. He drove a hearse and listened to screamo. He made fake IDs for fun. He WAS a 'badass muthafucker', at least, by Degrassi standards. Didn't you see his character promo?"
"But, did you accuse him of skipping class with you? - of wearing black? - of having a father who was a DJ at a rock n' roll station? – of," Mr. Edward's voice boomed, "being an atheist?"
Shocked gasps spilled from the audience.
"How dare she!"
"…worst girlfriend in the world."
"Where's Rick and his gun when you need him?"
"I apologized to Eli for sabotaging him, "Clare entreated, yelling over the roar of the crowd. " And, I'd like to point out that, although I wasn't being the best girlfriend in this situation, everything I said was true."
"It makes no difference! You hurt him, Ms. Edwards. You. Hurt. Him. And then, with no regards for his feelings, you threw yourself at him."
"I... I was confused and hurt. Darcy was gone. You two weren't talking. Eli had admitted that he wasn't a huge fan of the whole purity ring thing, and I knew that he had slept with his last girlfriend. Mom kept saying that she wished she would have been more open to doing new things with you. CeCe and Bullfrog were practically begging me to sleep over. I panicked. I told him I wanted to spend the night with him. It wasn't the smartest move on my part, I admit. But nothing came of it except Eli admitting his hoarding problem to me."
"Nothing came of it, Ms. Edwards, because of the noble maturity of Mr. Goldsworthy."
"Well, if by 'noble maturity' you mean that he didn't want me to see his room, then yes," Clare clarified.
"But you didn't know about his room at that time," Mr. Edwards pointed out.
"True,"Clare admitted. "At the time, I thought he was still hung up on Julia."
"And so what if he was?" Mr. Edwards smirked. "Wouldn't it be understandable if he wasn't completely healed from such a serious loss only one to two years ago?"
"Yes," Clare cried, "completely understandable. However, if he was still in love with Julia, he wasn't ready for a relationship with me."
"But, he admitted that it wasn't about Julia. It was about his hoarding problem," Mr. Edwards said with mock patience.
"Yes he did, although his hoarding problem and OCD stemmed from his loss of Julia – so really, in hindsight, he wasn't ready for a new relationship."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Ms. Edwards. I missed the part where you attained a psychology degree," Mr. Edwards smirked snidely. "Must have been when I was," he paused to make air quotes with his fingers, "'working late.'"
"You mean," Clare raised her own fingers in air quotes "'banging your secretary'? Must have been."
"Order!" Judge Dawes shouted.
"I apologize, Your Honor, for the rudeness of my daughter," Mr. Edwards stated somberly. He glared at Clare through narrow eyes.
"I'd like to now move ahead to the time when Mark Fitzgerald came back. I believe that after his brief stint in a juvenile correctional facility, Mr. Fitzgerald tried to contact you. Is this the case?"
"Yes," Clare stated. "Actually, he wanted to talk to both me and Eli."
"Yes, but he particularly wanted to talk to you."
"He wanted me to convince Eli to talk to him," Clare interjected.
"And he wanted to share his ..ahem… 'spiritual connection' with you." Suggestive noises and wolf whistles rang out in the courtroom. Mr. Edwards leered knowingly at the jury.
"Look, Fitz claimed to have found God while incarcerated," Clare argued, waving away the cat calls. "He wanted to turn over a new leaf and wanted my and Eli's forgiveness."
"How did Mr. Goldsworthy respond to Mr. Fitzgerald's request?"
"Eli wanted nothing to do with Fitz. He didn't want to talk to him, and he didn't want me to talk to him. He claimed that Fitz was manipulating me – using my faith, which Eli referred to as 'my weakness,' to get on my good side. Eli wanted me to have nothing to do with Fitz."
"A reasonable request, considering Mr. Fitzgerald's past actions," Mr. Edwards pointed out.
"Yes, but considering the feud, Eli's past actions aren't all that admirable either." Indignant muttering filled the courtroom. "What?" Clare cried to the crowd, leaning forward in her seat, face flushed. "Eli had Fitz arrested! He poisoned him! Besides, I am my own person. Eli can't tell me with whom I can and cannot associate."
"But he was only trying to protect you, Ms. Edwards. After all, as your boyfriend, that was his job." Members of the jury nodded in agreement.
"No! No, that wasn't his job!" Clare turned to the judge, "Why does everyone think that it was Eli's job to protect me?"
Judge Dawes just smiled and fanned herself with a signed copy of "Stalker Angel."
"Anyway," Clare continued, "Eli wouldn't listen. He started being really overprotective of me- standing guard outside of the school, watching me like a hawk."
"But, Ms. Edwards, Mr. Goldsworthy had good reason to be, as you say, overprotective. Isn't it true that Mr. Fitzgerald came to your house – to OUR house- and you let him in?"
"Well, yes," Clare admitted sheepishly.
"Were your parents home?"
"No."
"Not even your father?"
"Dad, you know that you weren't there," Clare sighed in exasperation.
"And yet you still let Mr. Fitzgerald inside?"
"It was raining. Fitz was soaked. He told me he had fallen off his bike. I didn't know what to do."
"So you let a known criminal into your house when you were alone? And, to add insult to injury, you allowed him to put his wet feet on my coffee table?"
"Fitz came in. I dried his sweatshirt and made him something to eat. He told me that his older brother was abusing him. He wanted a friend – someone to support him. But I couldn't be that person for him. I couldn't do that to Eli. So I made Fitz call his priest to come and pick him up."
"Ah yes, you are referring to Father Greg, now serving tenure at Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow in the DBT. Now did all this happen before or after Mr. Goldsworthy found you and Mr. Fitzgerald together?" Mr. Edwards asked, emphasizing the last word.
"We weren't together. I was trying to help someone who needed help – like the Bible teaches – like you taught me, Dad. But Eli couldn't handle it. He stormed in, guns blazing, ready for a fight."
Mr. Edwards turned and leaned on the jury box. "Ladies and gentlemen, we now come to my favorite part in this particular drama," Mr. Edwards drawled acerbically. "the part where Ms. Edwards calls Mr. Goldsworthy a 'heartless monster'." Shocked gasps spread through the courtroom like a contagion.
"Sometimes," Clare muttered. "I said he could be heartless sometimes."
"Oh, well that makes everything all better," Mr. Edwards sarcastically spit out. "The truth is, Ms. Edwards, you hurt Mr. Goldsworthy so badly that he retreated to his car and proceeded to cry - to cry, Ms. Edwards!" his voiced boomed. "There is no more tragic sight than an attractive, teenage boy crying. Ask any Degrassi fan."
"I apologized," Clare tearfully admitted. "He was just so fragile and intense. And we were going through a really tough time." She turned to the jury, "Eli was writing this gothic horror story about a stalker going after a girl that had so many parallels to what we were going through with Fitz. And Eli was being so possessive, it just scared me." She shuttered at the memory. "I later found out that, in Eli's story, the protagonist ends up slitting his girlfriend's throat and drinking her blood so that they will always be together."
"What a beautifully romantic story," Mr. Edwards said sincerely. "What a lucky girl you were to have such a sensitive, romantic boyfriend." The crowd of spectators undulated with nods of affirmation.
"Not really my idea of romance," Clare stated flatly. "And Eli said the story was all about me. How creepy is that?"
"Are you asking me, Ms. Edwards? Are you asking the spectators? Because I would bet my TV law degree and my broken, gold watch that no person in here would find Eli Goldsworthy's story the least bit creepy. He's the perfect boyfriend, after all. Have you not seen his smirk? His guitar pick necklace? Have you not seen his skull pillow cases? But, to get back to the matter at hand, when you found Mr. Goldsworthy crying in his car, did you make him a promise, Ms. Edwards?"
"I was trying to comfort him. He was crying and was so self-deprecating. He was desperately afraid of losing me."
"Did you or did you not make him a promise, Ms. Edwards?"
"Yes," Clare whispered.
"And what did you promise him?"
"He was afraid that I was slipping away. He begged me to promise not to leave him," Clare stated, her voice faltering.
"And what did you say?"
"I agreed. I just wanted him to calm down- to be OK."
"Oh! So you had no intention of keeping your promise then?" Mr. Edwards started pacing in agitation in front of the jury box.
"Dad, I was fifteen and in my first real relationship. My emotionally unstable boyfriend was crying and begging me to never leave him. I wanted to comfort him, and I had no intention of leaving him at that moment. What would you have me do?"
"Oh …I don't know, Clarebear, perhaps keep your promise." He stopped abruptly, bringing his hand to his head, as if a thought had just struck him. "Or, I have a good one, maybe you shouldn't make promises that you can't keep." Applause filled the courtroom.
"Damn straight!" called a voice in the back.
"Preach it!" called another.
"Oh, I see," Clare replied red-faced. "You mean that if I promise to 'love, honor, and cherish' a person for 'all the days of my life' I should keep that promise?"
Mr. Edwards stopped his frantic pacing and gaped at Clare. "Your Honor, do I have permission to treat this witness as a hostile witness?" he queried, his face flushed.
"Oh, you want to see hostile, Dad? Just wait!" Clare spit out.
"Order! Order!" Judge Dawes commanded. "The witness will remember that she is the one on trial here, not her father."
"Thank you, Your Honor," Mr. Edwards stated, barely able to hold on to his composure.
He took a calming breath. Turning to the jury, he lowered his voice, "I ask that you remember Ms. Edward's promise to Mr. Goldsworthy during the upcoming testimony."
He turned back to Clare. "Now, Ms. Edwards, after Mr. Fitzgerald left with Father Greg assumingly for the Degrassi Bermuda Triangle, he was no longer an issue in your relationship with Mr. Goldsworthy, is that correct?"
"Yes, but Eli never really recovered. He started becoming more clingy – wanting to spend more time with me. He was anxious all the time – moody, intense. I spoke to Adam about it."
"Ah yes, you spoke to Adam. Did you not think to speak to someone in a more professional capacity? I mean, if Mr. Goldsworthy's behavior was unpredictable and erratic, shouldn't you have spoken to a mental health professional? Although well versed in the ins and outs of The Goon, Mr. Torres' understanding of mental illness is basic at best."
"I didn't know what to do, Dad. I was fifteen, and, as you already pointed out, I didn't have a psychology degree. Besides, Eli's parents were around him and didn't do anything. Eli's teachers were around him, and, aside from a conversation Judge Dawes had with him about "Stalker Angel", didn't do anything. I didn't want to make Eli upset. In hindsight, I wish to God I had talked to someone. But I didn't. And I resent the implication that it's my fault that Eli had a breakdown. It's not my fault."
"Oh, I do think the lady protests too much," Mr. Edwards intoned mockingly. "Now," he cried switching focus, "let me take you to the weeks before the Spring Dance. Mr. Goldsworthy did not want to go to the dance, is that correct?"
"Yes. He thought dances were banal and pointless - although, surprisingly, he was pretty pumped to go to the prom, even as a waiter," Clare mused.
"Yes, yes. But you wanted to attend the Spring Dance, did you not Ms. Edwards?"
"Yes, I did. I had helped bring the thing about." She turned to the jury, "Because of the events of Vegas Night, Mr. Simpson and the School Board had banned all student dances. Well, there was that nightmare hour where students got to dance to some crappy song about a horse written by Sav and Jenna—but, aside from that travesty, dances were out. Alli made a deal with Simpson that, if we could raise the 10th grade math scores, we would get a dance. She and I tutored our butts off, and we earned the dance. For a brief moment, Alli and I were school heroes. I was excited to go."
"But," Mr. Edwards broke in, "Mr. Goldsworthy had other plans for you – far superior plans, if you ask any fangirl."
"Eli bought tickets to the Gothic Writing Convention and convinced my mother to let me go with him and his family," Clare patiently explained to the jury.
"Were you not excited, Ms. Edwards? Every girl dreams of attending her first Gothic Writing Convention, and to attend it with such a tall, dark, and handsome paramour – who could ask for more?"
"Seriously, Dad,… tall? Have you been going on my fan fiction account and reading Degrassi fan fiction again?"
She turned to the jury, "It was a sweet gesture," she said uncomfortably. "But I wasn't really excited. I still wasn't entirely comfortable around Eli—he kept wanting to lock us in a room together to write - and spending a weekend together at a horror convention was a little much for me. Besides, as stupid as it was to him, I wanted to go to the dance." Clare sighed tiredly, "However, I agreed to go to the convention with him. I didn't want to hurt his feelings."
"But you didn't end up going, did you, Ms. Edwards?"
"No, "Clare shifted nervously. "Like I said, things between us were strained and awkward. Eli kept needing more and more from me, and I just wanted space. I talked to Alli and showed her 'Stalker Angel', and she was concerned that I was getting myself in too deep."
"I see what you did there, Ms. Edwards," Judge Dawes interjected with a wink.
"Anyway," Clare continued, "I figured out that the weekend of the convention and the dance was the one year slash two year anniversary weekend of Julia's death. Things started making sense – Eli's clinginess, his intensity, his moodiness. I had always felt that he wasn't completely over Julia and now I had proof. I knew that he needed to deal with his demons – his issues—before we could ever have a successful relationship. So I told him that we needed to take a short break – that I needed some space."
"In other words, you broke up with him and left him devastated," Mr. Edwards cried in triumph.
"No, No! I didn't break up with him. I just pointed out the fact that he still needed to deal with his issues surrounding Julia – they were at the root of his instability and his hoarding. I also admitted that he was suffocating me, and I begged him for some space."
"What a remarkably selfish request, Ms. Edwards. Have you no sense of charity – no Christian compassion?"
"Dad, I was in an unhealthy relationship. I couldn't help Eli. I couldn't be there for him like he wanted me to be."
"Whatever, Clare," Mr. Edwards shrugged acidly. "So did he give you this space you so coldly and heartlessly requested?"
"He told me he would. But then, as he was grabbing his backpack out of the back of the hearse, I saw that he had brought a shotgun to school." She paused here as the sound of crickets filled the courtroom.
"I said that Eli brought a GUN to school."
Someone in the back of the room yawned loudly.
"Well, it freaked me out!" she cried vehemently. "He had been acting so strangely and was so unpredictable. I was worried that he would do something he would regret; so I called his dad."
"The ultimate betrayal!" Mr. Edwards pounced.
"No! Bullfrog was glad that I called. If some other student had seen the gun and told Mr. Simpson, Eli would have been expelled. Eli cornered me later and told me he had just forgotten to unload the gun from the car after a hunting trip. However, we now know that this wasn't true. He had used it to shoot a picture of his ex-girlfriend because he thought it was Julia's fault that I had asked for space."
"A perfectly rational reaction to the situation," Mr. Edwards stated.
"Well, if that's the case, then I'm just grateful that he didn't blame me," Clare quipped. The crowd emitted angry gasps.
Quieting down the angry crowd with a wave of his hand, Mr. Edwards continued. "Mr. Goldsworthy then asked you again to attend the convention with him. What did you reply?"
"I didn't," Clare admitted. "After the gun incident, I was scared. I didn't want to piss Eli off or upset him in any way. I just kept quiet. He said that, if I decided to come with him, I should show up at our bench at 9:00."
"But you never did show up, Ms. Edwards. He waited and waited for you, growing more agitated and handsome by the minute. And yet, you didn't even have the decency to call and tell him you weren't coming. Instead you went to the dance and enjoyed yourself."
"Actually, I didn't enjoy myself. I was worried sick about him. But I knew that, if I called him, he would guilt me into coming with him, and I really needed some distance from him. I needed to process the train wreck that our relationship was becoming. I needed to figure things out. He called me later on that night, yelling at me and telling me that I had ripped his heart out." She turned to the jury imploringly, "I went to a school dance instead of meeting him at our bench, and he accused me of RIPPING his heart out. I knew then that I had to get myself out of the relationship. I told him that we needed to break-up."
"Actually, Ms. Edwards, I think your exact words were, 'Spring is a time of renewal and rebirth – not us!' What could have compelled you to speak so harshly and maliciously to Mr. Goldsworthy? What had the poor boy ever done to you for you to so cruelly malign him?"
"Seriously, Dad? Seriously?" She turned back to the jury to continue telling her story. "Eli had convinced himself that all we needed was a few days in the hearse and all of our problems would be solved. He wouldn't listen to reason. I was trying to break through to him so I told him that I hated the hearse."
Angry gasps abounded. One woman in an "I Love Morty" t-shirt had to be restrained, as she charged the witness stand.
"And what was Mr. Goldsworthy's response to this?"
"He said that he loved me and that he would get rid of the hearse." Clare closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. "So he drove it into a wall."
"A noble gesture made by a man in love," Mr. Edwards proclaimed admiringly.
"No!" Clare shouted. "I'm so sick of this! It wasn't a noble gesture! It didn't show how much he loved me! It showed how sick and unstable he was!"
"Potato – potahto," Mr. Edwards replied with a wink and a shrug. "Later on that night, you met Mr. Goldsworthy at the hospital. What transpired?"
"Um … he was pretty hurt," Clare described in a shaky voice. "His leg was broken, and he was really cut up. He was holding on to a battered copy of 'Stalker Angel.'" She paused to collect herself. "The relief on his face when he saw me almost broke my heart. I asked him what had happened, and he told me that he had purposely crashed the hearse. When I argued that he could have died, he said it worth it because I had come."
Clare wiped her eyes with a trembling hand and turned towards the jury box. "I don't know if you have ever had an out of body experience. But in that moment, time stood still. I saw my future with Eli – always worrying that I would say the wrong thing and find him in the hospital; always worrying about which Eli I was going to get - the sweet one or the one who was so intense and angry he made me physically sick to my stomach. I saw myself miserable but too afraid to leave him – afraid of what he would do to himself. In that moment, I knew. I knew I had to leave. I had to protect myself. I couldn't help Eli, and, if I stayed, I would end up destroying myself. I left him," Clare stated in a tremulous voice. "I left him, and it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. But, you know what? To this day, it is the thing I am most proud of doing."
"Leaving him was your proudest moment?" Mr. Edwards spit out. "Clarebear, you really are a heartless bitch."
"Dad!"
"I call 'em like I see 'em, Princess," he replied, cocking his finger like a gun and pointing it at Clare.
Clare gaped at him, open-mouthed.
Mr. Edwards went on, "So, if I may recap, you broke your promise to Mr. Goldsworthy. You promised that you would never leave him, and, at the first sign of trouble, you left."
"It wasn't the first sign of trouble. It wasn't even the hundredth sign of trouble," Clare said tiredly. "And I made that promise when I was fifteen and under emotional duress. I stuck by Eli as long as I could, Dad. If I had stayed, he wouldn't have become magically better. And I would have lost myself. I had to think about myself. I had to, Dad."
"A touching excuse - but an excuse all the same," Mr. Edwards smirked, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. "Now, after leaving Mr. Goldsworthy a broken shell of a man, you returned to the dance, didn't you?"
Clare ran her fingers through her bangs nervously. "I did."
"Your ex-boyfriend is lying in a hospital bed after crashing his car into a wall for YOU, and you go back to the dance. What, were all the bars closed? Wonderland shut down for remodeling?"
"I know it seems cold," Clare implored, a red flush creeping up her face. "But I think…I think I just wanted to finally assert myself. I had wanted to go to the dance. Eli had mocked the dance. Eli had convinced me to go to the convention instead of the dance. Eli's instability had prevented me from enjoying the dance. His accident had taken me away from the dance. I think my motivation in going back to the dance, " here she looked to the left side of the courtroom where the Degrassi writers sat, "was to finally stand up for myself – to do what I wanted to do and not what other people wanted me to do. It symbolized Clare Edwards finally standing up for Clare Edwards—putting herself first." She looked again towards the writers for affirmation, but they were too busy playing Angry Birds to even hear her.
"Oh, Clare," Mr. Edwards sighed, "for a smart girl, you really are quite an idiot. Don't you know that Clare Edwards can never put herself first and expect to have a fan base?"
Clare opened her mouth to speak but was cut off.
"Anyway, for the sake of time," Mr. Edwards went on, "let's just state that you are a cold, unfeeling bitch who loves school dances more than your amazing and completely romantic boyfriend."
"Dad!"
"Let the record show that Clare Edwards is a cold, unfeeling bitch who loves school dances more than her amazing, completely romantic, AND handsome boyfriend," Judge Dawes stated officially. "I added that last part myself," she winked at the court reporter.
"And now," Mr. Edwards turned towards the jury, "it's time for us to move into the murky waters of Season 11. The season -the prosecution will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt- in which Clare Edwards stopped being the sweet, kind, Christian school girl and became instead the corporeal incarnation of Satan, himself."
"Dad!"
"As titillating as this new direction sounds, Mr. Edwards. I think it is time for us to break for lunch," Judge Dawes interrupted. "The Caf is having a repeat Sweethearts Luncheon, and I told Coach Armstrong that I would buy him one of those giant cookies. He's still bitter about the fact that he hasn't made the opening credits after 10 years." She pounded her gavel, "Court will resume at 1:00 PM!"