Eli:

Eli Goldsworthy trudged through the empty popcorn bins, broken binders, dog-eared book copies, and other junk that lay forgotten on the floor before plopping down on his bed. Not even bothering to peel off his leather jacket of motorcycle boots, he lay with his back against the mattress, breathing heavily as she stared at his ceiling. His first at Degrassi, and he had only managed a conversation with a family friend, Fiona. Most kids gave him dirty looks and smirks, inconspicuously pointing at him from when he pulled up in his hearse in front of the school, up until the last bell rang. He didn't mind though. Friends were overrated, and people could think what they wanted about him. He wasn't living to please anyone- wait, scratch that. Anyone but Jules. She'd want him to try, at the very least, and that's what he'd do.

Wrenching himself in an upright position and looking around, he sneered. He gave everything to that girl, and all she did was take off and get killed, leaving him to deal with the crap storm she left behind. After spending almost two years talking to his shrink, he had to admit that he had gotten a lot better. He had moved on, for the most part, but the angry and ire was definitely still hidden underneath it all. The sense of betrayal will always be there, and he'd just have to deal with it.

"Baby boy, how was your day at school?" Cece asked kindly, stepping into his pig sty of a room. She tried not to wince at the horrendous sight, but Eli, being the natural observer he was, had noticed the distress behind the firmly-gripped pair of tongs she held in her hand. Cece was worrying about him again, and as many times as he told her he was fine, it only worried her more.

"Fine," he said curtly, making a point to rummage through his bag and take out his English notebook.

"Homework?"

"Lots of it,' he lied, hoping she would see that he didn't want to talk.

"Well... I don't want to bother you, so I guess I'll see you at dinner," she said softly, trying to conceal the hurt she felt. Her only son was shunning her, and there was nothing that would make a deeper scar than that.

After waiting until she was down the stairs, Eli took a sharp breath and made his way to the window. He pushed it open, hoping that the coldness would allow him to release some of the dull, stinging sensation in his heart. You were doing so well, Eli. Hold your crap together. He shut his eyes momentarily, wishing for the pain to subside somehow, someway. Opening them again, something caught his eye, and he immediately tensed up.

It was that girl again from his English class, accompanied by two boys. His fists automatically clenched at the sight, and all the memories came rushing back to him. How she had the nerve to gawk at him like that, like he was some messed-up painting at the museum. The innocence of her pink lips and large blue eyes aggravated him for some strange reason, and if it wasn't for her delicacy, how easily- frightened she seemed, he would have snapped her head off right then and there. As well… there was something hidden beneath her shockingly clear icy eyes that left him mildly puzzled. There was a thick layer of brokenness promptly concealed under a veil of well-being, something that he was all too familiar with. It was like a mask for her eyes- after all, the eyes tell everything. Could this small, fragile girl be as broken as he suspected her to be, or was it just his vision playing tricks on him? Either way, he had to find out. Suddenly, he held an intense desire to find out who she was, and why she was like this. It was crazy, considering he knew nothing about her, but there was a tugging sensation in his chest, urging him to get to know her better.

He watched her like the creepy stalker he was, watching her brush her burly auburn hair out of her eyes, watching her smile at the two boys who seemed to be guffawing at something hilarious. She seemed to be the quiet type, the type who never caused trouble. She was...kind of alluring that way, and he watched her like he was watching the most engrossing film.

"Snap out of it, Goldsworthy," he snarled at himself, gritting her teeth. In spite of his recent suspicion, this girl, whatever her name is, would only break under his toxic presence. He was a seriously messed-up dude, and it was unfair of him to want to taint any part of her.

A gasp escaped his lips when the figure he had been staring at looked back, catching his eyes for the briefest moment. His heart hammered, and he instinctively receded, hoping she didn't recognize him.

Scrambling to his bed, he wildly searched for his journal, needing to write down everything he was feeling right now. Everything that girl was making him feeling right now was not normal, and it needed to stop. All he needed was his journal and…

He flipped open the first page, freezing at once. This was certainly not this writing, and he certainly did not write in blue ink. At a panicked state, he glanced to the top of the page, reading the words Clare Edwards.

He distinctively remembers hearing that name before. That boy in the beanies had said that name…to that girl who had just been thinking about.

He gripped the book harder. As his immense curiosity and conscience decided to partake in a raging battle in his head, an image from earlier on in the day flashed in his head. The same image of that unintelligent, sexist football pig kissing that Clare girl during the fire drill. He had been in Degrassi for no more than eight hours, and already he decided he did not like him. If he was playing with her heart…

It was decided. He tore open the book with newfound passion, more eager than ever before. Not only was he holding the secret to the only girl he was thinking about, but he would also determine whether or not that pig had successfully captured her heart with his cheesy pick-up lines and wolf-whistling or whatnot.

There was a quote, followed by a famous song lyrics scrawled on the first couple lines:

"More and more, it feels like I'm doing a bad impression of myself".

I see your pattern,

I can match it,

Just trace of the line of my paisley jacket.

Eli's eyes widened. Not only was his girl a devout Palahniuk fan, but she also had a liking for Dead hands. Not only does this confirm his theory that she was as dark as he suspected, but with that, it meant she was almost a female version of himself.

Mom and dad are fighting again, and I'm just sitting here like a useless rock, cringing when I hear the sound of glass breaking, weeping to myself when my dad's below sounds through the house. I worry if the neighbours can hear, and I wonder if they will call the police. It's not safe for me to stay here anymore, though, there's not really anywhere else for me to go. I've contemplated staying over at Adam's house, but the mere thought of sleeping near Drew makes me shudder. Plus, he snores like a pig suffering from nasal congestion.

Eli laughed out loud. He then clamped his hand over his mouth when he realized what had just happened. He had, for the first time in months, laughed. He had only seen this girl once in his life, and already she was having this effect on him. It scared him, but it also just intrigued him more. If this was just out of reading her writing, how would he be like around her in person?

Sometimes I pretend I'm like a princess trapped in a tall tower. Sometimes I fantasize about a prince charming coming to rescue me from his horrid life I live, but I know that will never happen. Nobody loves me enough to do that. Not my parents, not Darcy, not anyone. Adam can only do so much- he is only fifteen like me, and his life doesn't revolve around me.

Sometimes I'm scared to scream and shout. I want to yell at the top of my lungs, but I'm afraid no one will hear me.

He read the last line over and over again, wincing at the rawness that came form that one sentence. It was brilliantly pure, full of a stagnant pain and greyness captured all in one sentence. This girl was talented, no doubt about it.

He turned the page, coming across a picture of Clare Edwards herself. Subconsciously licking his lips, he drank her in, eyes lingering on the curve of her nose, the paleness of her flawless skin, the soft light flush sitting on her cheeks…

Oh my God, he thought to himself as he ripped the picture off. I'm more of a creeper than I thought.

"Eli, honey!" Cece called. "Come down for dinner!"

Torn between obeying his mother's call and gazing at the girl a little while longer, he let out a frustrated sigh and stuffed the picture in his drawer, the proceeding to shove the journal in his bag. Feeling disgusted with himself, he descended the stairs, trying to convince himself that this was perfectly normal, that she just intrigued her in a platonic way.

But as he washed his hands, all he could think about was how he could find a way to talk to Clare Edwards.