Earlier

The last week of school, my arm was sore from scrubbing down the cafeteria's grill line after everyone else had left. It was someone else's job, but I saw how dirty it was during the lunch period and saw my chance to prove how sorry I was about Degrassi Nudes. Breaking through the crusted orange stains was much more grueling work than I expected, and I was left with a stinging, achy bicep.

Of course, the next day just had to be chicken nugget day. Unluckily for me, people went crazy for those breaded pieces of poultry-flavored gristle. The line extended out the cafeteria door and down the hallway, which meant my service needed to be three times faster than usual.

Just as the second lunch rush came in, I noticed the bin of nuggets was completely empty. I frowned, realizing it was my turn to fetch one of the heavy refill trays from the kitchen. As I turned toward the door, Miles said "I got it!" and disappeared through that swinging door.

I smiled gratefully until I realized I was alone with the entire student body. There was a blonde niner-looking girl waiting for her mashed potatoes with a hand on her hip and her lips pressed together in a judgmental expression. "You know why nobody likes you? It's because you're exactly like Gatsby Garcia. She's fun to watch on TV, but no one actually wants her around."

That smug little blonde looked so pleased with herself for insulting grade ten's fallen queen bee. I didn't know how to be hated, only feared and adored. In that moment, I was so angry that my hand started shaking, and the mashed potatoes I was scooping for her missed her cup, instead splatting onto her tray, with a few stray pieces hitting her fuzzy blue sweater. She screamed, and Pill was on me before I could even offer the girl a napkin. Of course Pill was convinced that I did it on purpose. She thought about writing me up, but then she remembered it was the last week of school and reluctantly decided to let it go.

Present-Day

Miles promised to be my wingman last night, and Grace was already in his pool. My pseudo-boyfriend worked faster than I thought possible. I was so close to either ditching Tristan or manipulating him into coming to the party with me until I realized it was exactly what Gatsby would do. In season eight, episode two, she had to choose between accompanying Sara at her abortion appointment and going on a date with her long-time crush, Eric Lettau, who was finally back from study abroad. If I wanted Grace or anyone else to like me, it was clear that I needed to stop emulating Gatsby Garcia.

Tristan was standing in the archway between my kitchen and living room, finishing his phone call with Owen. A few sounds goods and see you soons were uttered before he ended the call and returned to the kitchen for a second cookie.

"Just got off the phone with Owen. It's his first day off in weeks, so I guess it has to be today."

Apparently Hollingsworth pool parties happened more often than Owen's days off. I nodded with understanding and mentally cleared my schedule for the day. "Sorry," I texted back. "Tristan needs me to day."

On our way out the door, Tristan stared at my phone with interest. "Tell me there's juicy gossip on there. Tell me anything to get my mind off this nightmare."

I thought for a moment about how I could make this story exciting rather than depressing. If I just straight-up told Tristan that I was missing a potentially fun pool party to deal with his trial business, I knew he would feel guilty.

Once we rounded the block and found a bench to sit on, I began telling my story.

"Remember season eight, episode two, when Gatsby had to make that choice between being there for Sara and going out with Eric Lettau?"

My friend smiled bashfully. "Eric Lettau is my future husband," he said. "Wait, I get it. So right now, you're Gatsby, I'm Sara, and then…" he looked at me with interest. "Who's Eric? Is it Miles?"

"I already told you, Miles and I are better off as friends," I said.

Tristan thought for another moment before frowning. "Tell me it's not Zig. You and Maya seriously need to stop fighting over boys."

That I agreed with. "Truth."

Poor Tristan was never going to guess correctly. "Tiny?" he asked desperately.

All I knew about Tiny was that Shay had a massive, almost embarrassing crush on him and refused to just admit it already. "Nope."

Tristan went down the list of guys in our grade, guessing Winston and even Damon before he admitted defeat.

"Did Miles guess it?" Tristan asked.

"Yeah," I conceded, "but he had a hint."

"That's no fair!" Tristan pouted. "Where's my hint?"

I giggled, realizing this was my chance to keep my other promise to Miles. "Guess you'll have to ask Miles for it," I said, "since I just don't feel like saying it a second time."

"You're so mean," Tristan complained.

"Would talking to him really be so horrible?" I asked. "It's obvious you two like each other, so why all this drama?"

He wasn't smiling anymore. "I can't even think about him right now. Not when they're about to drag up all the awful, humiliating stuff that happened with Grant." Tristan looked over at me curiously. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Just…move on after something like this? How do you let some new guy touch you in all the same ways the pervert did? I feel like I'm never going to trust anyone that much again."

The question was surprising coming from Tristan, if only because he rarely opened up to me on that level. "I wouldn't know," I said honestly. "I'm wondering the same thing myself."

"So you and Zig didn't…?"

"No."

Saying it felt sad. Zig had promised me that if we ever did it, we would take things slowly and make sure I was comfortable. He had to mention that Grace was literally coaching him on how to be a good boyfriend to an assault survivor, which sadly endeared me more to her than it did to him. The constant niner nudes he was looking at definitely lessened my attraction to him, but then I acted like a total hypocrite and started literally selling nudes to people. We both screwed up, but at least he seemed ignorant of how his actions were hurting me. I knew damn well he'd be crushed to learn about Degrassi Nudes, and I didn't care. Knowing he deserved better than me, I let him go. After that, I decided I'd never let someone deserve better than me again. I was trying to be a better person.

A new street name appeared on the screen above where the driver was sitting. Tristan pulled the cord, and the bell sounded. The bus pulled to a halt, and we arrived at a crowded maze of brick apartment buildings and corner stores. Then, the real fun of navigating the windy, uneven streets toward Owen's apartment began.

"The dorms all got filled, so Owen had to live off campus this year," Tristan explained. "Thankfully he pledged, so he's moving into the fraternity next semester."

We kept walking and rounded a corner toward a new series of apartment buildings, all of which were about two stories of crumbling red brick. Eyeing his phone, Tristan led us into a small parking lot that was separating two tiny apartment buildings. The one on the left had a single front door with different buttons to ring each of the tenants. I watched as Tristan expertly chose the right one and waited. A few moments later, a buff, brown-haired guy was unlocking the door for us.

"Come on in," the guy I assumed was Owen said. "It's a bit of a mess inside right now, but you can make yourselves at home," he grimaced, "to the extent that it's possible."

We walked down the hallway toward the wooden door labeled "2," and Owen swung it open to lead us inside. The disaster he described was real. His front entrance was made of dirty tile that was obviously suffering from the lack of a welcome mat. Several pairs of dirty looking shoes had been tossed about in the small hallway, some with socks either stuffed inside them or wadded up next to them.

Tristan looked horrified. "What happened to that shoe rack Mom got you?"

"I keep it in my room," Owen explained. "The time when I left it out here, it ended up covered with everybody's shoes and dirty socks. I think I even found a random slice of pizza on it one day."

My friend looked thoroughly disgusted. When I visited the Milligan residence once or twice last year, I remember it being immaculately clean. Theirs was one of those households where everyone took off their shoes at the door and signed off on a chore wheel. Owen was probably in hell in a place like this.

"Let's go into the living room," he suggested. "At least there's a place to sit in there."

I could hear crunching under my sandals as I walked and soon realized that the floor was sprinkled with popcorn. Sighing, Owen rushed out of the room and came back with a vacuum cleaner. Tristan and I glanced nervously at each other while our host cleaned, knowing the information we had for him wouldn't please him.

"So sorry," he said, finally turning off the Dirt Devil. "You two should sit."

The green futon was incredibly saggy, so I made my descent very slowly, wincing at the metallic crunch its frame emitted as I sat. Just as Tristan started to sit down, he leapt back to his feet. "I'm so sorry! I forgot to introduce you two!"

Owen laughed. "Gatsby Garcia needs no introduction," he said with an affectionate eye roll toward his brother.

"You watch West Drive?" I asked.

Tristan quickly jumped in to cover for his visibly embarrassed brother. "I convinced him it was only fair that if I had to go to all his boring sports stuff, he should at least watch my video recaps."

The three of us sat down on the sagging futon, and Owen gave his brother an intense look. "So, what's this about? You sounded freaked on the phone."

"Something happened last year," Tristan said with his hands clasped in his lap. "I thought it was nothing. I wanted it to be nothing, but apparently now it happened to someone else too, and it's going to be a bigger deal than I thought."

Owen looked at his brother and then at me. "I'm afraid I'm gonna need you to be more specific than that."

"Remember that English teacher I told you about? The one I had a crush on?" Tristan waited for his brother to nod before continuing. "Last year, he invited me over to his place so we could talk about a paper. Then, he seduced me. With alcohol. I wasn't comfortable, but I let it keep happening because I thought I meant something to him. Boy was I wrong. Turned out he molested another guy in my class, and now there's going to be an investigation and a trial. They want me to testify."

Owen cupped his head in his hands, wearing an expression that uncomfortably reminded me of the way my mother looked at me when her initial anger over what happened to me wore off and she simply had to sit with her pain and her guilt over failing to protect me. It wasn't my mother's fault that I was assaulted just like it wasn't Owen's fault now, but I could tell that a similar feeling of powerlessness was weighing him down.

He looked up slowly, apologetically. "Tris, why am I just now hearing about this? In all the years I've known you, you've never had secrets!" Owen then glanced over at me. "This guy was the out-and-proud seven-year-old on our block who had no problem telling literally anyone exactly what he was feeling exactly when he was feeling it." His attention returned to Tristan. "What the hell did that bastard do to you?"

"He had sex with me." Tristan said it so matter-of-factly that he could have been stating which subjects Mr. Yates taught.

"I don't mean physically," Owen said with a sigh. "How did you stop being the guy who said 'fuck what everyone thinks' and auditioned to play gender-bent Juliet to the kind of guy who keeps this huge of a secret from everybody?"

Tristan shook his head. "Auditioning was easy," he said. "I just had to be myself. The difference is that back then, I actually liked myself."

My friend's words made me shudder as I thought about their implication. Loving yourself when you were performing for your fans was much easier than loving a person who had been violated, humiliated, and thoughtlessly discarded. I hadn't exactly ever wanted Luke or Neil to love me, but I had hoped that one or both of them would eventually say "I'm sorry" instead of what basically amounted to "I'll tell people to stop calling you a slut if you'll tell people to stop calling me a rapist." It was hard to simultaneously know how worthless you were to the person who destroyed your life and to keep reminding yourself that you were actually worth more than that.

"Have you told Mom and Dad?" Owen asked.

"Not yet," Tristan said. "I was hoping you could help me, but I understand if you're way too busy for that."

"I'm never too busy for you, okay?" Owen said sternly. "I don't care if I have to cover the graveyard shift to make it work; I'll be at every hearing and every court date they throw at you, okay? We'll get this guy; I promise."

Tristan looked relieved. "I was really worried you were gonna kick his ass."

"That's my backup plan," Owen said, "but we'll give this trial thing a shot first. I'll go with you to tell Mom and Dad, and then we should call our lawyer before we talk with this kid's family. This is gonna work out."

"Thanks," Tristan said gratefully.

"Sounds like you two got this from here," I interrupted.

As I exited the apartment building, preparing to open my navigation app, I quickly pressed the green phone button next to Miles's name.

"Zoë! Perfect timing! Grace is bored with my pool, so we're all going for tacos. You and Tris are still invited if you're free now."

It was a sweet offer, and I hated to dash his hopes. "Tristan's working things out with Owen," I said, "but I can probably make it."

"Sounds cool," he said. "We should probably get our story straight before you get here though. Make sure you don't look unavailable. Did I heartlessly dump you, or did you just realize you're too good for me?"

"I like the second one better," I said with a smile. "No offense."

"The tea is scalding tonight," he said with mock-offense.

I realized it would be better if we stayed closer to the truth. If hell froze over and I did win Grace's heart, I didn't want to have to lie to her. "We could just say we've decided to be friends," I suggested. "Or we could say that you're hopelessly in love with your ex, which is obvious to everyone."

This actually gave him pause. "It's not obvious!" he said. "How obvious is it?"

"Incredibly obvious," I said. "Unless you're Tristan."

Miles laughed. "I'm waiting to see you and Grace together. Then we'll see who has the obvious crush around here!"

I had surprisingly good luck catching my first bus. Maybe I hadn't lost my chance with Grace after all.

When Miles texted me the address of Lola's Cantina, I didn't make the connection that it belonged to the Lola. The moment I glanced through the partially glass door, I saw my pink-and-purple-haired former teammate pouring someone's lemonade out of a pitcher. Her waitressing smile vanished as soon as she heard the bell ring on the door and saw me enter.

She stiffly took the pitcher back to the counter and rushed back to grab me a menu. At least she wasn't planning on refusing me service. Looking distastefully my way, she murmured "Just one?"

"No," I corrected her. "I'm meeting friends," I said, hoping to emphasize that I had friends.

Lola's expression suggested that she wasn't sure if her friends took me back and forgot to tell her or if, by some miracle, some new people had decided to like me.

"She's with us," I heard someone say. I turned to my left and was surprised to see that it was Grace who stood up for me. Maya, Zig, and Miles just waved in agreement.

"O-kay then," Lola said, walking toward their table.

My friends were sitting at what would normally have been a four person table. Zig and Maya were seated next to each other, and Grace was on the opposite side. Miles beamed at me from the awkward fifth-wheel chair, and I immediately knew that he saved the spot next to Grace for me.

Grace quickly stood up. "I can switch with Miles if you two want to sit together," she offered.

"It's okay," I said.

She raised an eyebrow at me. "How long before either one of you admits you're dating?"

"Were dating," Miles corrected.

Maya stared at me all agape and then shot a glare at Miles, almost like she felt betrayed that he hadn't confided in her. "Seriously?" she asked. "How did you manage to keep quiet about this the whole time we were at the pool?"

"What can I say, it's embarrassing!" Miles shrugged. "Guess I'm just not dating Zoë material."

I eyed him nervously, wondering what kind of game he was playing, but he gave me his confident relax, I got this smile, and I tried to believe it.

Now, Maya looked completely intrigued. "You dumped Miles?" she asked.

"Guess now we have something in common," I said.

"Other than Novak, you mean?" Grace laughed. "One of you needs to date somebody that the other never liked."

Maya frowned. "Drop it, okay?"

Zig wore a knowing expression, and Grace looked on with confusion. "I was just giving you a hard time."

Apparently Maya was having a much harder time than Grace had expected. I suddenly remembered Tristan telling me that Maya's grade nine love life was strictly off-limits. Something terrible had happened, apparently, and she never wanted to talk about it again.

"I had a boyfriend Maya didn't date," I volunteered suddenly, hoping to relieve the unwanted attention. "I actually dated Kevin for about three months."

"The guy who played Eric Lettau?" Grace asked incredulously.

"You watch West Drive?"

"Kelsey does," Grace corrected. "She's my little sister."

I felt flustered at the idea that Grace knew who I was before I ever knew who she was, especially since I knew Gatsby had a decent number of gay and bisexual fangirls into her because of some subtext with Sara. Grace probably wasn't one of those fangirls, but I could dream.

"Don't tell Tristan I dated Kevin, okay?" I asked. "He wants to marry Eric Lettau?"

Miles obviously hadn't been listening because he nearly jumped at the idea of Tristan getting married to a fictional character. "Who's this Eric guy?" He lowered his voice to avoid drawing Maya and Zig's attention. "He's not cuter than me, is he?"

"About the same," I said. "Don't worry; Eric's just a fantasy."

This didn't seem to entirely reassure Miles. If his feelings were that strong, then I wished he would just say he was sorry and take Tristan back already.

"So," Zig said awkwardly. "How's everyone's summer going?"

Everyone looked at each other uncomfortably until Grace finally spoke. "I went to a science camp last week. It was pretty rad."

I couldn't help but smile, imagining Grace in dorky lab glasses. "What kind of science?"

"Mostly genetics," Grace explained. I got a partial science credit for it. Of course it was one of the most intense weeks of my life, but it was worth it! How about you? What've you been up to?"

Lounging around in Miles's pool didn't seem like a great answer, so I tried to think of what else had been going on. "I auditioned for Legally Blonde, the Musical. I'd have to dye my hair, but I think I killed So Much Better."

"Isn't Elle Woods in grad school, though?" Maya asked.

"It's Toronto Teen Theater," I explained. "The whole cast will be under twenty-one."

Miles seemed to be sitting on a mountain of anxiety in his fifth-wheel chair. "Is Tristan okay?" he suddenly ejected.

I nodded. "He's in good hands. Owen's taking care of him."

Both Grace and Zig looked thoroughly confused. "What's wrong with Tristan?" Zig asked.

"He's going through some stuff," Miles explained quickly, "but it's gonna be alright."

Grace suddenly turned to face me with an intense look in her eye. I felt nervous having her this close and this attentive, especially because I could not even imagine what she wanted to say to me. "I want to ask you something, and be honest, okay?"

I could feel myself blushing. "Sure. Anything."

"Does Tristan actually like his hair, or was he just saying that to spare my feelings?"

The gap between my completely unrealistic expectations and the reality of what she said forced me to laugh. Loudly.

"He hates it," she winced.

"No way," I said. "That's not why I'm laughing."

"Then why are you laughing?" she asked. "Do you hate it?"

"I think it looks amazing," I said. "The brown was fine, but black really makes a statement."

"Thanks," she said, seeming to genuinely appreciate the compliment.

We were talking, which was good, but I was worried we'd soon run out of material. "I could use a new look," I said. It was technically true; I had had the same brown hair for my whole life, and changing it up could only help my image. "Any ideas?"

Grace looked genuinely excited. "Well, I can think of lots of things to do, but I know you'll hate them all."

"Try me," I said.

"Well, since red's a good color on you, we could always go with some red streaks. Nothing too loud, just a couple here and there. Or we could do skinny ones that sort of blend with your natural hair color. I'm not as good at those, though. You might want to go to a salon for that. Or, if you wanted to really be interesting, we could do a burgundy. I don't think you can pull off platinum, and I know Tristan would hate me if I let you copy his black."

"The streaks sound cute," I said.

"You should go for it!" Miles said.

There was a strong likelihood that if I randomly changed my hair without consulting her or my agent first, my mother would panic. There was an even stronger possibility that a dye job and subsequent touch-ups would give me plenty of chances to get closer to Grace. "Just say when!"

Author's Note: Sorry there hasn't been much Gracevas so far in this Gracevas fic, but I wanted to make sure Tristan's situation wasn't entirely overlooked. I'm also sorry it has taken me forever to post this chapter. I hope you'll all forgive me and that everyone's looking forward to Next Class.