Clare:

Clare Edwards fumbled with her lock for what seemed like ages, hands trembling violently as she hastily dropped her books on the ground. She spun the dial as quickly as she could, desperate to have it open so she could breathe. She needed her journal, she needed to vent, and she needed to do it now.

The torpid sense of grief was starting to kick in, erasing every bit of euphoria her friend Adam had fuelled her with the previous period. The empty void in her chest was now palpable, and her breath was staggered. The depression was slowly sucking her in again, sapping every bit of energy and happiness she once had, and as hard as she tried to fight, it would always come back. The sorrow, distress, and loneliness would always find a way back.

She glanced at the clock briefly, making note of what little time she had before her English period began. Grabbing a pen from her pencil case and flipping to the first empty page of her battered notebook, she began to write furiously now, not concerned of whether her writing was legible, or that her books lay forgotten at her feet. The words came rolling in faster than her hands could move, each sentence accurately describing the sense of greyness swallowing her up, the fear that lingered in the back of her mind. After finishing up with one particularly poignant passage, she soon exhaled and shook the soreness from fingers, feeling less burdened than she had five minutes ago.

"Ready, English buddy?" a voice chipped excitedly, scaring the daylights out of the petite girl. She jumped involuntarily, jamming her notebook between her pile of books with a horrified expression on her face. Seeing that it was just a familiar boy in a beanie, she sighed and clutched her chest in relief.

"A little jumpy today, aren't we?" he laughed humorously. "I know I make you nervous and all but…"

"Funny, Torres. We'll see who'll be laughing when you receive my dry-cleaning bill."

"You-what?" His eyes widen, conspicuously traveling downwards in utmost horror. She giggled at his reaction, noticing how he was starting to sweat. "I'm sorry I- ha-ha, you're hilarious Clare. I seriously thought you peed yourself. " He rolled his eyes and hitched his bag higher up his shoulder.

"I am hilarious, haven't you heard? You need to get out of the cave more often." she joked, slamming her locker door shut and walking next to Adam, who just snorted and opened the door for her.

Adam was her best friend- her only friend at Degrassi. This boy, infamous for his crazy video game obsession and unnaturally large collection on beanies, was the only one who had any interest in talking to a girl like Clare Diane Edwards. It wasn't that she was particularly idiosyncratic, or that she didn't want to talk to anyone, though. Simply, she was too reticent, too reserved, and too socially awkward to carry a conversation, let alone form a friendship with anyone. Clare was never the type to initial anything, always just a shadow that tarried when necessary, or walked away when there was no use hanging around. She wasn't a follower, either, and preferred to be alone for the most part. However, these days, her inner demons were getting the best of her, prompting her to seek refuge. Her parents wouldn't give ten seconds to listen to her, no- they were far too busy arguing about the most trivial matter than to pay any heed to their daughter. Darcy, Clare's older sister, had left for a program in Kenya a couple years back. She never hear a word from her ever since. For all she knew, Clare could disappear off the face of the Earth and no one would know.

Except Adam, of course. Adam was eccentric and childish at times, but he had a good heart, and Clare was thankful for him nonetheless. Because of Adam, she didn't have to sit alone during lunch hours, or go through English classes alone. As far as she was concerned, Adam was a gift from Heaven above.

"Settle down, class," Ms. Dawes said sternly, gesturing everyone to take their seats. Clare obeyed immediately, and put her books down at her feet, paying no attention to the dark-haired boy who sauntered past her with a near-identical pile of books sitting on his arms. She tried not to cringe when his chair scrapped against the hard marble floor, abhorring the sound his chair made. Her back was turned, so she didn't notice that he was wearing a lopsided smirk that was directed towards her. Clare tried not pay attention to anything but her English teacher, who was now writing a new assignment on the board.

"For the next week, you will be writing a reaction paper on Shake sphere's famous play, A Midsummer's Night Dream. You can write anything you want about it, but the key is to be insightful. I expect no surface-like comments. The rest of the class period is yours to brainstorm."

"Hey Clare," Adam whispered, immediately scooting his chair closer to my desk. "Have you seen that guy behind you before? I think he's new."

Clare frowned, turning around. She found a pair of green orbs already staring intently at her back, completely unashamed to have been caught. He cocked his head to the side as if he was mildly perplexed by something, but other than that he appeared completely impassive. His eyes soon turned dark, and being the natural observer she was, this small detail didn't slip past Clare.

"Can I help you?" the boy asked, appearing annoyed by her scrutiny. His voice was low and intimidating, but smooth and velvety at the same time.

"Sorry," she whispered quickly, biting her lip and glancing at Adam with a scared expression on her face. It was then that Clare decided, that this boy was one to avoid.

No long about that minor incident, a screechy alarm soon filled the room and hallways, signalling all students and faculty members to evacuate the building immediately. Everyone in the class exchanged happy grins with one another, thrilled to have the opportunity to miss class time- everyone, except a young Clare Edwards, who was still startled by the mysterious green-eyed, dark-haired boy who looked as if he was heavily burdened by something. He exuded nothing but darkness and morbidity, what with his Sharpied-nails and Goth-like attire. There was even a hint of eyeliner environing his deep-set eyes, a sure sign that was someone you did not want to be involved with. This worried Clare to no end. Though, it was not only the fact that she had to sit in front of this boy for the rest of the semester that made her anxious. Truly, she was concerned about the well-being of him, and whether he was okay in himself. In spite of already deciding that she would never spare another glance at him again, that was just who Clare Edwards was. Always worrying about someone that was not herself.

"He seems kind of funky," Adam commented as we made our way outside. He wrinkled his nose as the Goth boy strode past the pair, appearing completely oblivious to the fact that people were gossiping about him. "And he sits behind you, too."

"He does seem strange, doesn't he?" she mused, eyeing him carefully as he approached a slender brunette who was Fiona Coyne. She furrowed a brow and looked at Adam, who didn't look too pleased with the boy by any means.

"Maybe I should go introduce myself," he muttered, stomping over at once with intentions of making it clear to Goth boy that Fiona was his girlfriend. Unintentionally leaving Clare alone, he reached over and put his protective arm around her waist. Clare was out of the earshot, so she couldn't hear what he was saying, but judging by how unaffected Eli looked, she confirmed that he wasn't interested.

It was mid-December, and there was a fluffy white blanket of snow spread on the ground, not to mention, a freezing cold temperature hanging around the air like static. Clare rubbed her arms in a desperate attempt to create friction and heat, her delicate porcelain skin already turning a nasty blue colour. She had a very low tolerance for the cold, and without Adam as her personal space heater, she felt very vulnerable and exposed.

A few feet away, there was a gaggle of pretty girls standing around and making goo-goo eyes at Degrassi's eminent quarterback- Drew Torres. There was a lot of body language going around- the flutter of the eyelashes, the twirling of the hair- Clare resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had seen Drew around Adam's house many times before, and couldn't really see why so many girls found him charming. He chewed with his mouth open, spoke about girls like they were a piece of meat, and seemed to never have shirt available to him. Even in the middle of winter, he strutted around shirtless, and Clare began to wonder if he was doing that to provoke her. She was the only girl who thought of Drew in a strictly platonic way, and though he's never say, it bothered him to no end.

"Saint Clare!" he called cheerfully, waving to her excitedly like a five-year old boy who lit up at the sight of an ice cream truck.

But Clare didn't hear him. Her eyes were closed, and her arms were crossed. She looked as if she was trying to sleep.

Eyebrows merged together in confusion, Drew parted from his below- average football buddies and walked over to her, frowning and leaning into her. He peered curiously at her with his head tilted at the side. She didn't seem to realize him standing there, and so Drew, being the incredibly intelligent and rational person he was, stuck out his tongue and licked her nose.

"Wha-" Clare's eyes snapped open. Seeing a large boy tower over her with his tongue still jutted out, she let out a yelp and jumped backwards. "Drew!"

"Hi," he said, grinning at her with a foolish expression on his face.

Finally, the drill was over, and so was the period. The warm instantly melted with her skin and she entered the classroom once more. Clare sighed and bent down to pick up her books, hurrying back to her locker. Her head was bowed as usual, and was walked nimbly towards the door. There was a headache from the cold pounding in her against her skull, mixed with the migraine Adam's stepbrother had caused, she had trouble looking straight ahead without tripping over her own feet. Not realizing that the journal she had picked up was not hers, she made her way home and crashed onto her bed. Clare had no idea that in her possession, were the darkest most inner secrets of a sixteen-year old boy. Secrets that would open the door to something dangerous, frightening, shocking, and above all, to the heart of boy who has never opened up to anyone before.