Oh, oh guess what? What is this? A new chapter possibly?
If you guessed correctly, stick around and read it! But if you didn't...well read it anyway.
Sorry if this is a little short...and a little late. This is sort of a filler chapter, nothing too important, so I hope it's okay. We'll work on making the chapters longer.
Disclaimer: We do not own Degrassi, sadly. If we did, Morty would stay on the show as a cast member, because he's just too badass not to be.
I pace around in the limited space in my room, my cell phone clutched firmly in my hand. I was going to call Clare, I was going to do it. But every time I brought my phone to my ear, I would chicken out, dropping it back down. Why couldn't I do this?
"Just do it already, dammit!" I tell myself, my hand jerking upwards.
But instead of dialling Clare's number, I chuck the phone across the room in frustration with myself. It lands in a box of picture frames, probably broken.
"Elijah, what was that?" CeCe calls from behind the door. "I heard something fall," well, the noise must have been louder than I though, or she had been standing outside my door the entire time.
"It was nothing! Go away!"
But of course instead of obeying my command the door creaks open and CeCe sticks her head in. "Is something the matter? You aren't having problems again, are you? I can get you some more medication if you'd like, or —"
"No! I don't need anymore damn medicine! Just leave me the fuck alone," I scowl at her, flopping onto my bed.
CeCe gasps at my harsh words and takes a step back. "Fine, Elijah," she leaves the room, and once the door is closed again, I bolt up in search of my deserted phone.
I find it twenty minutes later in the box of picture frames, completely intact with only a few dents and scratches. Surprisingly, especially due to how far I had thrown it.
"Okay, I'm going to do this," I breathe, beginning to pace again. Why am I so nervous, why can't I just do this? I can call Adam without a problem.
"That's because Adam is your friend," I tell myself, not caring how damn crazy I sound blurting everything out to no one in specific. "Clare…isn't."
"Yeah, but she's my English partner. I have to call her," I ramble on, my phone rolling relentlessly in my sweaty palm. "Or, maybe she'll just call me…"
I glance at one of my many alarm clocks. It's nearly eight o'clock P.M. If Clare was going to call me herself, she would have done it already. Just like I should have…
"I just can't do it!" I growl to myself, sighing angrily in frustration.
"Eli, who are you talking to?"
Back at the door again, are we? CeCe pried the door open and looked inside.
"No one," I reply, and open my mouth to continue but she cuts me off.
"Then why did I —" she exhales and shakes her head. "Nevermind. Eli, I just wanted to let you know that your father brought home dinner. It's on the counter if you're hungry," she left almost as swiftly as she came, obviously not feeling welcome in my room anymore. Not that she ever was welcome.
My stomach rumbles at the thought of food, and I remember I hadn't eaten since lunch, but I ignore it and sit down heavily on my bed. I stare at my phone, expecting it to do something, or ring, but it remains silent.
That doesn't stop me from watching, however.
An hour passes and my eyes are still locked on the phone. It hasn't rung, I haven't called.
Another hour goes by. It still hasn't rung, I still haven't called. I begin to wonder if Clare would even answer, if she was even awake. But I guess I would have to find out…
At ten o'clock, I finally pluck up enough courage to call her. My aching, shaky fingers punch in her memorized number, and I hold my phone to my ear. I hear it ringing, and my leg trembles. What am I going to say? What if she —
"Hello?" on the fourth ring Clare picks up, and my mouth goes completely dry.
I remain silent, and I hear her breathing on the other line, waiting for someone to respond. "Uh, hello? Is anyone there?"
"C-Clare, hi," I croak, and mentally slap myself for stuttering. Smooth.
"Oh! Is this Eli?" her voice lights up, and she sounds almost…relieved?
"Yeah, it is," I say, my heart pounding unbelievably hard in my chest.
"I'm glad you finally called! I was starting to think you weren't going to…"
"Um, sorry about that. I-I wanted to…but I didn't really know what to say, and then it was getting kind of late and I figured you were asleep so I —" I was extremely grateful when she cut me off with a shrill giggle, because honestly, I could have rambled on forever.
"Eli, it's totally fine. I was actually just reading the book we were doing for English,"
"I thought you lost that," I say, my gaze shifting over to Clare's copy of Lullaby lying beside me on the bed. I felt guilty for taking it…but also had no intentions on giving it back.
"I did, but I got a copy from the library until my other one turns up," Clare explains and I nod, slowly crawling backwards on my bed until I reached the headboard.
"Oh," I reply, unsure of what else to say. "Well…" I clear my throat. "we should probably get started on that thing for Dawes,"
"Right, hang on, I'll just get my book. I like scanning over books when I discuss them. Helps me think, you know?"
Shuffling and silence comes from the opposite line, and I take that as an opportunity to retrieve my, well Clare's, book, and quench my incredibly dry throat. But as nervous as I was, I was glad I had forced myself to call her. I didn't know if we would ever associate with each other again after this assignment, so I was going to grab up every chance I could get.
"Okay, I'm back," I was so caught up in my thoughts, I hadn't even realized Clare had returned. "Eli, are you there?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry," I mumble. "I just uh…spaced."
"It's alright, Eli. I do that all the time," she exhales loudly. "We should probably get started on this. I don't know how long I can stay on the phone,"
"Right, okay."
We end up speaking for hours, one, possibly two. We talk until my throat is sore, and my lungs ache from laughing. Clare is purely entertaining, and she definitely made me blush more then once.
And in those two hours I talked with Clare, I learned things about her I never would have guessed. Like she has an older sister named Darcy, who has been volunteering in Kenya for two years, and how Clare's secretly in love with the band Flyleaf.
Talking to Clare was just about the greatest feeling ever. My chest loosened and I became less anxious. I was able to open up to her a little more, and she laughed at just about everything I said, making my heart soar and my face flush bright red. Why had I never talked to Clare before?
"Eli, you are so funny!" Clare gasped, choking on a laugh from the opposite line. She was still cracking up from the pathetic joke I had just told her, and I grinned.
"Not really…" I say, a blush crawling up my neck for about the twentieth time tonight. This girl was really getting to me.
"Yes, you are!" she exclaims. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that?"
No, no one has, actually. Not once in my life has anyone told me I was funny, except Julia of course…
"No, no one has ever told me that before," I repeat, only this time out loud. "Except for…um, nevermind,"
"Who?" she asks persistently.
'None of your business', I want to say, since I hadn't yet mentioned Julia to her, but worried I would offend her, I didn't. "Just um, you know…my mom,"
"Aw, well that's —" Clare stops suddenly and for a moment I think she's hung up.
"Clare, are you there?"
There's yelling in the background. And then the slamming of a door, and some shuffling. "Clare?"
"Eli sorry, but I have to go now. I had a blast talking with you, though!"
My heart sinks. I wanted to talk with her more, but of course she had to leave eventually…
"Oh okay. It was nice talking to you too," It was, really.
"Well, bye! See you in English!"
"Bye, Clare," I say, but she's already gone. I sigh, snapping my phone closed and tossing it to the side of my bed. It lands on Clare's book, which I had abandoned around halfway through our conversation.
I sit up and my stomach growls obnoxiously loud. Frowning, I glance down, realizing I haven't eaten since lunch. Or was it yesterday? I just haven't eaten in awhile.
I get to my feet and head to the kitchen, remembering CeCe saying something about dinner on the counter.
I find a few containers of Chinese takeout on the counter, some half consumed, others unopened. I grab a white paper carton of noodles, along with a fork from the table and head back to my room. Only…a strange noise from my parent's room stops me.
I pause, listening intently, and it doesn't take me long to figure out what the noise is. Someone is moaning and the headboard is thumping against the wall; they're having sex.
I set my food and silverware down on a nearby end table, and creep closer to the semi-open door, knowing what I'm about to do is horribly wrong. But it's not like they're going to notice, and the door is open.
I stand in the doorway, watching the movements of the blankets, and letting the sounds of my mother's moans, as sick as it is, fill my ears. My pants grow tight and I close my eyes, trying to imagine it as someone else other then my parents, fucking in the room before me.
And of course it has to be Clare.
My mother's blond mullet transforms into short auburn curls, and her rail thin body becomes round and curvy, smelling of strawberries and butterscotch, rather then weed and alcohol. And there's no surprise when my filthy mind places me on top of her, intently watching her beautiful face change as I fuck her hard —
"Eli! Is that you?" my eyes snap open to see that my parents ministrations had stopped, and they were both watching me. "Get out of here, you fucking creep!"
I don't stick around to see what my father will do, and sprint back to my room, completely abandoning my dinner in my haste to get away. I slam and lock my bedroom door, leaning heavily against it with a sigh.
My arousal is still painfully hard between my legs, but I choose to ignore it and sleep it off, along with my gnawing hunger pains. I change into some sweatpants from the floor, making things "below" a little more comfortable, and I curl up in the foetal position on my bed, clutching Clare's book tightly to my chest. It had become an item of comfort to me. Almost as if I was holding Clare herself.
Before I drift off to sleep I flip through several of the pages, admiring her curly, neat, handwriting and wondering, what would she say if I told her I watched my parents having sex…and imagined it was us?
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