A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this story took so long to complete – I was a bit distracted by real life and other fics (shameless plug alert! all of them take place in this same twisted post-RTT universe, so if you're into that, I'd recommend you check them outt…but that's just my unbiased and impartial opinion) But anyway, I'd had bits and pieces of this written since I posted the first chapter, and about a week ago I decided it was high time I let this school day from hell finally end. So I put on my RIP JT mix (it's called goodbye love because I am a walking cliché), picked a new Motion City Soundtrack song (their new single! so kickass!), and wrote this. I hope you enjoyyy!

A/N Part Two: And also, I took some creative liberties here – like, Spinner still sitting with Darcy even though this takes place after the hypocritical-whore fiasco, but it's not all that important in the context of the story, so I'd appreciate if you'd just roll with it.

A/N Part Three (last one, I swear): As for the formalities: Degrassi, not mine. (JT wouldn't be dead; maybe Darcy, instead.) Motion City Soundtrack, not mine. (Their CD would have already been released.)

And now, on to the main attraction…!

Part Two: Broken Heart

A tragic tale of all that's yet to come…

During homeroom, everything was going along as per usual. In the back Maggie Brown was flirting shamelessly with Ross Xavier's new shaggy haircut. Fiona Peters and Slater D'Angelo sucking face as Mike Kamovitch, notorious for his creepiness, gaped. Liberty, as always, sat in her front-row seat, staring straight ahead as chaos erupted around her. She ignored the laughter, the paper footballs, the swearing. She ignored it best as she could; gripped the side of the desk until her hands cramped.

Kwan did her best to silence the bedlam, but her efforts only increased the noise. A paper plane skidded across Liberty's desk. She didn't notice until Henry Roy snatched it back, mumbling a quick apology.

Henry and JT had been good friends, back in grade school. That is, until JT started hanging with Emma and Manny – Harry cried 'cooties!' and promptly ditched him. JT remained bitter up until the moment he…

Liberty took another deep breath; shut her eyes – cleared her mind. Well, tried to. She told herself to think of boring, mundane things – chemistry test next period, chicken nuggets for lunch, read chapter nine of The Scarlet Letter for English tomorrow – things to get her mind off the blood and the lights and the memory of Toby sobbing into her shoulder. She could do this. She could remain in one piece. Only six periods left. (But after that, there would only be another day to live through. And then another and another and another – stop it.)

When she opened her eyes, Kwan was in front of her desk, clutching a copy of Hawthorne's novel and staring intently at Liberty. It was a look Liberty knew all to well – she'd been on the receiving end of it plenty of times last year, once she started to show. It was Kwan's concerned look, adopted whenever she tried to pull a Mrs. Suave and pry into her students' lives.

"Liberty, is everything all right?" she asked, kindly enough. Usually, Liberty's good breeding and kiss-ass tendencies made a polite response second nature. But JT was… And yet Liberty was still somehow sitting in Kwan's homeroom as if everything were fine.

"Yeah," she snapped, avoiding Kwan's pseudo-empathetic gaze.

"Are you sure, dear? Because you look –"

Kwan's words were cut off by the morning announcements. The TV in the front of the room switched on abruptly, and Heather Sinclaire began to read the notices off her sheet of paper just as always – like a dyslexic who lacked a firm grasp of the English language. Liberty took another deep breath; she really should have given JT that job.

"And, like, there's a girl lacrosse game, like, uh, next – Friday? Tuesday? Oh, wait, sorry, Monday. That's what I meant! And, uh, yeah, it's against Lakehurst, so, like, go panthers and all that. And –" Her awkward and fragmented recitation was interrupted by Mrs. Hatzilakos, who stepped into the frame and whispered into Heather's ear. A boy in the back catcalled as Heather scurried away and the principal took her place.

Hatzilakos's expression was solemn; Liberty's throat closed up as it dawned on her what was coming. Fuck. Liberty had never been one for swearing; she found it to be pointless and immature. But a string of four-letter words seemed all too appropriate for her current situation: Fuck. Shit. Damn.

"I have some extremely sad news to report," Mrs. Hatzilakos announced; Liberty was impressed that she wasn't reading off a print-out. "It seems that one of Degrassi's most beloved students passed away last Friday night." Passed away? He was fucking stabbed. Fuck. "JT Yorke was a senior here at Degrassi, and recognized throughout the school for his work in the drama club and friendly sense of humor. I knew him since his first days at Degrassi, as a grade seven, and he was an amazing young man." Damn. "I know he will be sincerely missed by the entire DCS community. If anyone wants to talk about what happened, or share any feelings they may have had about JT – just remember, Mrs. Suave's door is always open."

Shit. I loved him. I fucking loved him. What would you say to that, Mrs. Suave?

The TV screen turned black; Liberty could feel twenty-three pairs of eyes on her. Her relationship with JT had been lazily followed by most of the class – what with the drugs and the pregnancies and the Mia factor, it had been one of Degrassi's more interesting home-bred soap operas.

"Dude, that…blows," someone said stupidly in the back. Liberty took a deep breath and gripped the sides of the desk even tighter. How could JT have abandoned her for another year with these people?

"Oh…my god," Mrs. Kwan breathed, putting a hand to her mouth in horror. "That's…oh, no."

Liberty avoided looking at her. Avoided the silent, prying stares that engulfed her. Avoided the memory on constant replay in her mind: "Sorry, your brother is gone." Closed her eyes, clenched her fists, and focused her thoughts on other things: Boyle's Law. Roger Chillingworth. The Suez Crisis. Not JT. Not JT.

Taking a shaky breath, she opened her eyes and looked to Mrs. Kwan. The teacher she'd known for five years was at her desk, hunched over, small shoulders shaking quietly. She never even really liked him.

The class sat in an uncomfortable silence, watching their teacher go through the motions of a mini-breakdown. Liberty felt the scary almost asthmatic tendencies from first period trickling back. She did what she could to calm herself down: breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. She tried the method that had worked that morning, recalling memories of Toby sucking on his inhaler in gym class – but it wasn't stopping, Liberty was loosing air and her brain was spinning and her heart wasn't functioning and oh god JT was dead –

"I'm so sorry, class," Mrs. Kwan said abruptly, plucking a tissue from the box on her desk to wipe her eyes. "But JT was such a fantastic young man… So bright and friendly and so much p-promise…I just can't believe it – I just can't fathom –"

Join the club, Liberty thought, rolling her eyes. She had never been one for sarcasm, but she found that a cynical comment here and there stuck a small but effectual band-aid on the massive gaping hole within her. Maybe she hadn't given JT enough credit, facing all of his problems over the years with fart jokes. Maybe, for him, there hadn't been any other way.

Executing uncommonly perfect timing, the bell rung. Liberty, also uncommonly, was the first one up, stuffing her books into her bag in a rush to leave the room and the gaping and the awkward. But before she could escape, Kwan caught her. Damn.

"Oh, Liberty – I had no idea – if there's anything you need, anything at all –"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Kwan," she muttered firmly. At Kwan's skeptical glance, she added, "Really, I swear. Fine – I'm fine."

But it wasn't like Beetlejuice – saying it three times didn't make it true.

…fingers crossed, there will be love.

So much to say, but no words to convey…

A salad? Or maybe French fries? The chicken nuggets aren't that bad, either. They look like they might actually be chicken today, too.

In nearly every respect, it was a normal day for Mia. She had totally bombed a geometry test, tripped over a random book in the hallway and fallen flat on her face, and was now being forced to pick her poison in the form of Sheila's disgusting lunch options. A perfectly normal day.

Just pick something, she told herself as she continued to stare at the racks of Vitamin water and Rice Krispie treats in front of her. It doesn't matter – you're not going to eat it, anyway. She reached for a bag of chips, and then pulled her hand back.

What had she eaten Friday? Maybe that would make this easier. She racked her brain, but to no avail. She couldn't remember much of anything from Friday – only JT adorably rolling her backpack out to the front for her, wrapping his arms around her and pecking her on the lips – even though he knew her mom was watching from the car. He'd squeezed her hand and walked away, pausing to shoot her once last grin as he opened the door. Mia had fiddled with the ring on her finger and wondered what she did to deserve such an amazing boyfriend.

Yet, here she was, alone and unable to pick out a lunch for herself. How did this come to be? How had her life changed so radically over the course of one weekend?

She avoided thoughts of his name and finally grabbed a bag of Cheetos. She'd never even really liked them – whenever Bella ate them, everything within a five-foot radius ended up covered in orange dust – but he had. He'd eaten them for lunch the Friday before, in fact. The fact that Mia remembered what he had eaten, but not her own lunch, was quite pathetic.

She pushed her tray along and grabbed a water bottle, as well. Hell, maybe she was dehydrated and simply making all of this up. For all she knew, she was actually passed out in the nurse's office right now; the knife fights and Cheetos and isolation were all just a part of some wild delusion she was having. Maybe she would wake up soon, laugh off her craziness, and go out for ice cream with him and Bella.

…That would pretty much rule.

Mia paid for her food and turned to face the cafeteria, holding her tray out like a shield. There was a familiar quicksand sensation within her stomach; shit, what do I do now?

Mia had plenty of 'friends' at Degrassi. Kids from her classes, kids who she could call for homework help and said hi to in the hallways. As for actual friends, however – well, there weren't that many of those. Actually, she was pretty sure he'd been the only one. (Wow. That's depressing.)

She'd sat with his friends out of laziness, out of habit – they were relatively cool kids, and she didn't have the time or the energy to make any good friends of her own. Over the past few months, she'd been adopted – however reluctantly – into his little clique. She'd sat with them during lunch every day for the past two and a half months.

But – he was and – would she still be welcome? They'd only tolerated her because of JT, she knew. Toby and Emma and Danny and all of them – they'd liked her, sure, but they never would have gone out of their way to get to know her, if it hadn't been for him.

And now he was dead, and she was being forced to relive the horrors of her first day all over again. Where the hell am I supposed to sit?

She was frozen at the front of the cafeteria, clutching her tray and gaping out at the dozens of tables. She spotted Annie, who sat next to her in English – but she was eating with the crazy Christians, a place she was obviously not welcome. And Kyle, her nice lab partner, who was laughing at something one of his lame stoner friends had said – oblivious to Mia's anguish.

Although, who could blame him, really? She'd put forth the effort to talk to him about anything more than lab reports and difficult quiz questions. She'd never needed to. She'd always had...oh, crap.

Mia doubled back to grab a fistful of napkins, just to delay the inevitable. She was contemplating ditching her tray altogether and seeking refuge in the library when she felt someone elbow her spine –

"Oh, whoa, sorry, didn't see you there." Crazy Christian Clone number four smiled sheepishly and apologized; the contents of his backpack were scattered at his feet. "I, just, uh, kind of lost my footing –"

"It's no problem," Mia replied blankly, setting her tray down momentarily to help him pick up his stuff. Just because her boyfriend was dead didn't mean she had to forget her manners.

"Thanks. You're – Mia, right?" He said as they stood back up. Mia grabbed her tray, her force field, and nodded. The kid slung his bag over his shoulder and held out his hand; upon realizing Mia's were busy holding her tray, he awkwardly retracted it and continued, "I'm Spinner Mason. Listen, I just wanted to say – about JT. That just – it's so awful. I'm so sorry. I – I – I can't even imagine." No, you can't, Mia inwardly agreed. But it's nice that you're acknowledging that. "I mean, I wasn't ever really good friends with him, and we had our, like, problems over the years, but I've known him since grade school and – he was a really, really great guy."

Mia blinked away tears and forced a small smile. She'd never even spoken to this kid – just assumed that because he basically followed Darcy Edwards around, he was a spineless Christian asshole. But his sheepish smile and solemn tone were genuine; he was reaching out, to a girl he hardly knew – for no reason in particular. Mia found it was refreshing after a morning of fake sympathy and awkward avoidance.

"Thanks…Spinner. That's the first time someone's – done something like that."

"No problem," he shrugged. "I just – you looked – like you could use a friend."

"That's one optimistic way of putting it," she replied bitterly. Spinner raised his eyebrows, so she clarified, "I usually sat with – them. Toby and Emma and Manny and everyone. But, now…"

"What, you think that, without JT, you're not allowed?"

Mia shrugged. "They never really welcomed me into their circle…who says they would they now?"

"Uh, common decency?"

"Emma Nelson and common decency aren't exactly synonymous for me," Mia admitted with a small smile.

"Okay…" Spinner paused thoughtfully, "…Not completely sure what that means. But – whatever. Just go sit with them. They aren't going to, like, banish you. They can't ignore that you lost him, too, just as much as they did."

"I guess…" Mia sighed.

"Besides, who else would you even want to sit with? No one else in this caf has any idea what you're dealing with right now."

"Well, I'd always harbored this secret hope of sitting with you and Darcy and accepting Christ into my heart…" At Spinner's frantic glance, she laughed and clarified, "It's okay, I was just kidding. I know she hates me."

"She doesn't hate you, exactly…" Spinner said quickly. "She just…has, like, a really rigid sense of morals…"

"Alright, then, you should go talk to her about those morals before you get in trouble for standing within three feet of me. You know, you might accidentally impregnate me with an illegitimate bastard."

Spinner stood for a second, staring, unsure if he was supposed to laugh. Mia – who turned out to be a lot more like JT than she previously thought, using humor to mask

her inner pain – nodded, and Spinner let out an awkward chuckle for her benefit.

"Um, yeah, I guess you're right." He grinned and gestured toward Mia's table. "Go sit with them. They won't tar and fester you, I promise." Mia puzzled over his word choice for a second: fester…? "Alright, then, so… I guess I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, definitely." Mia said quietly, forcing all the cheeriness she could muster. Spinner deserved it. "And – thanks. For, you know, this."

Spinner smiled and shrugged. "Anytime. God can be used for good as well as evil, you know"

"Yeah, yeah – go tell that to Mother Theresa over there." Mia shot back as she turned towards her table. She could hear Spinner laughing as she walked away.

Her arrival at the table was awfully anticlimactic – none of the fanfare she expected, negative or otherwise. They all wearily looked up from their half-eaten Sheila mush and offered her a couple small, sad smiles and quiet greetings.

"Hey, Mia," Toby stabbed a fork into his thin slab of meat. "How awkward was Hatzilakos's announcement thing this morning?"

"Oh, God," Manny rolled her eyes. She was paler than usual, and her face lacked its usual makeup-induced sheen. "That was ridiculous."

"He would have hated it," Danny added ruefully. "He would have been making fart jokes and chucking rubber chickens at everyone."

"I heard Kwan had, like, a nervous breakdown at the news…but I doubt that's true. Kwan hated him." Emma readjusted her greasy, messy bun and sighed.

"No, it's true, she did," Liberty offered meekly, not even looking up from her plate. "I'm in her homeroom. It was very odd."

"All of this…" Mia trailed off for a moment, "…is very odd."

The five other people, her five friends? – reacted in much the same way. Exhausted nods, bitter whispers, sad smiles. They confirmed that what Mia was feeling – the strange inability to breath despite plenty of air; the DVR in her head stuck playing a few fragmented memories; the hesitancy to continue living in a world that he was no longer a part of – it wasn't just her. JT hadn't died simply for her – he was resting in peace for every single person at this table. Every single one of them was haunted by the unoccupied chair.

Over the course of the period, the topic slowly drifted away from their dead friend – to easier, blander subjects: recent tests, gossip, the weather. Anything to keep them from treading the grief that loomed around them. For forty minutes, Mia distracted herself with Danny's Kwan impression; Emma's opinion on Chris Sharpe's latest hook-up. She didn't forget, exactly, but – for forty minutes, it was a little easier. A little less hopeless.

It was ironic, though; only after JT, her one lifeline, passed away, did Mia begin to feel like maybe she might eventually sort of find her place at Degrassi.

…the loneliness building with each passing day.

But I never get used to it...

The bell rang, and it was over. Toby gathered up his things, followed the rest of his chemistry class into the hallway, and took the usual route to his locker. He dumped the required textbooks into his bag; lazily tossed his sweatshirt over his shoulder. The bell had rung, and it was over. Toby's first official JT-less school day was over.

Finally.

Toby slammed his locker shut and headed for the foyer, pushing past all the usual cliques. The jocks, clad in clashing yellow-and-blue letterman jackets, excitedly exchanging details on the latest game or match or whatever. The bad-asses, leaning against lockers and doing their best to look threatening. The Christians, putting up posters for the upcoming Make-The-World-Perfect prayer circle.

All the cliques were there, and Toby was on the outside – as usual. He'd spent most of his formative years as the nerd, the geek, the kid who preferred anime and computers to girls and parties. He was used to it, by now. Used to the condescending looks, the muffled insults, the hushed whispers. Used to the stereotypes and the names.

He'd always had JT, after all. JT had been a nerd, too – but a more socially acceptable variety. His shaggy hair and charming smile had been enough to rocket him into the world of frappucinos and card games and Spinner Mason – for a while, at least. He had come back to Toby, though. JT always came back.

Their friendship had been like that: even after Toby revealed JT's dirty little fantasy; even after JT ditched Toby in favor of a chance with Paige – they'd always come back to each other. For depressingly long stretches of his high school career, JT had been all that Toby had.

And now… he was dead.

Toby shoved the thought out of his head and gulped back tears. He wouldn't cry, he couldn't – not here. Not on the front steps of Degrassi. Not at the place where he had spent countless mornings lounging on the steps, leering at girls as they passed by and cracking jokes. Countless, seemingly stupid memories.

All the memories, the inside jokes – at the time, they had seemed so random, so pointless, so forgettable. That is, until JT was stabbed, and suddenly the stupid things were all that was left.

Toby stumbled past a group of Grade 9's, splayed along the concrete wall just below the 'Welcome to Degrassi!' sign. A nameless girl shot Toby a look and whispered to her friend – something inaudible. Her friend's shriek in reply, however, was a lot easier to hear.

"Yeah, I heard he was, like, the one who found his body. He fully sobbed for like a half hour before he even remembered to call for help." Toby halted for a moment, staring straight ahead. "It's, like, totally tragic. That guy who died was super cute, too. What was his name?"

Toby gulped and ducked his head, so no one would see the tears spilling out of his eyes. He stumbled off the sidewalk and weaved through the parking lot until he reached his bubbeh's beat-up station wagon – seventy-three steps. By some cruel twist of fate, he had parked it right beside the picnic table where Toby had sat with JT and Emma and Danny during lunch that day – Toby had choked back cold noodles and vomit at the other boy's words. When Rick had appeared, coated in yellow crap, he'd been grateful for an excuse to get away from their blatant cruelty.

JT Yorke hadn't been perfect. He could be shallow and petty, sometimes ignoring Toby in favor of bigger and better social circles. His fart jokes were kind of lame. His concepts of manliness and loyalty had been pretty screwed up. He'd attempted to face possible dealing charges by swallowing a handful of pills – although Toby had always known it wasn't suicide he was after. JT had, somewhat stupidly, entertained the notion that he and Liberty could raise a kid at sixteen. He'd also had this weird thing for teenage mothers that Toby never fully understood.

But, in retrospect, none of that mattered. JT had been smart and hysterical and kind and awesome with kids and loyal and determined and optimistic. He'd grown up a hell of a lot since his "Hey Liberty, guurlfriend!" days. He'd been the best person Toby had, and probably ever would, know.

At that thought, the tears really started to gush. Damn, Toby thought bitterly as he pressed his forehead against his car door, this fucking blows. He wiped away the tears with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and kicked the tire. When he looked up, he saw a crowd of drama geeks gaping at him. At his fierce glance, they feigned ignorance and started whispering amongst themselves.

JT's death seemed to be altering every aspect of Toby's life – not only could he not even feasibly imagine himself surviving the next week, let alone the rest of his life; he had also gained a new nickname. No longer was he the Nerdy-Anime-Geek-Who-Was-Friends-With-That-Kid-Who-Shot-Everyone.

Nope, things were changing for Toby. He was moving on up. Now, he was the Nerdy-Anime-Geek-Who-Was-Friends-With-That-Kid-Who-Got-Stabbed, What-Was-His-Name-Again?

Toby gulped and clambered into his car, wiping his eyes once more. He threw his backpack into the back seat and draped himself over the steering wheel, not bothering to smear away the tears that stubbornly continued to fall. The drama girls could still see him, but he was way past giving a flying fuck about anyone who was alive when JT wasn't.

JT is dead. JT is dead. James Tiberius fucking Yorke is dead.

The thought paraded through Toby's mind like some sort of twisted mantra. It wasn't ever going to go away – JT was never going to be alive, ever again. All thoughts of him from now on would be in the past tense. How fucked up is that?

Toby sat up straight and readjusted his glasses; he had to get home. Despite everything, he still had homework to do. A chapter in bio and a dozen questions on the aftermath of WWII and a two-page essay on the symbolism in Hester Pynne's latest exploits. Despite everything, life was somehow marching on. Damaged and defected, it still stumbled stupidly along.

Toby turned to his empty passenger seat. Usually, JT caught a ride home with him on Mondays, because his grandma needed the car that day to get to her bridge meeting. Toby imagined that JT was sitting next to him – legs splayed along the dashboard, arm hanging out the window, fingers impatiently twisting the dial of the radio.

"This car is crap, Tobs," he would often whine as he shifted through station after station of static. "Any music you do find – if you're even that lucky – is older than my grandma and your bubbeh combined."

"Did they even have radios then?" Toby would counter as he shoved the keys into the ignition.

"Nah, just people hitting the walls of the cave with a bunch of sticks. Or their heads."

"That explains a lot about Kwan, then, eh?"

Their laughter faded, as did the image of JT. Toby turned the keys – for real this time – and sat for a moment as the car putted and moaned and, eventually, started. JT wasn't here, in his car – or anywhere. JT was dead.

JT isn't here. He knew he was going to have to repeat that statement many more times before he actually believed it.

Toby pressed the gas and pulled out of his spot. Maneuvering past skateboarders and those annoying freshmen with the Frisbee, he drove out of the parking lot and started towards home.

And that was that. His first JT-less day at Degrassi was officially over.

Only about two hundred left…

…give or take the rest of my life.

…you just have to live with it.