I'm going to try to keep this short. I had a lot of trouble with this chapter, and this was the best I could come up with. Mostly filler. But I wanted to get a couple of things out. And I promise, next chapter will be better.

Also, on a non-Degrassi note, I'm working on writing a play for a competition, and I'm in great need of characters. If you have any ideas, can you let me know (in a review or a d-mail. I'm merenelanding)? It would be very, very much appreciated!

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After that, things pretty much were back to normal. Spinner and I were still together, I still passed too many notes in class, and I still hated homework with a passion. But some things had changed. I was more careful of what I said, and who I was with. I became more aware of people staring at me, and I became more aware of people in general. I tried not to put them down, and I tried to be aware of is they were having problems. After everything people had done for me, it was my turn to give back. I stuck by it most of the time.

Before I knew it, it was almost the end of school. It was freakishly warm for June, so the day before final tasks and exams started, the school had decided to take us to a nearby beach. We were going on the Monday. The Saturday I went looking for the perfect swimsuit. I finally found one. I had sacrificed my bikini obsession for a one piece. Not because it was conservative, but mostly because there were scars all over me, especially my stomach, that no one needed to see. Then on Sunday, I realized something terrible. My legs were hairy.

Normally, it wouldn't have been such a big problem, but when the doctors discovered I had been cutting, they had forbidden me to shave, or to have access to a razor. Because of me, my mom had switched to waxing, and Dylan had changed to an electric shaver.

Sunday was a quiet day around my house. Since my mom wasn't home, I didn't bother asking her how to use the wax before trying it out myself.

I had gotten pretty well prepared. I'd read the instructions, got myself a pop, and brought my CD player into the bathroom. As told, I heated the wax in the microwave first. I took the spreader they had given with the wax, dipped it in the hot liquid, propped my leg up onto the counter, and spread it on my leg.

What the instructions hadn't said was that if you put the wax in the microwave as long as it told you to, it would burn your skin straight off. I screamed in pain, fell backwards and hit my leg against the wall.

"Owww," I moaned. I pulled my leg away from the wall, and found wax spread all across the wall, but still managed to stay on my leg. I limped out to the hall and picked up the phone.

"Can you help me?" I asked when she picked up on the other end.

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I ignored the mess in the bathroom and tried to clean up my own leg the best I could, then as promised, met Hazel at a nearby pharmacy.

"So. . . which one would hurt the least?" I asked as we stared up at the wall of waxes.

"Keeping your legs hairy," she suggested with a smile, then tapped one of the employees on the shoulder as they walked by.

"Which one of these would hurt least?" she asked the older saleswoman.

She laughed. "Sweetie, if you want it to be painless, shave."

I looked at Hazel desperately. "There has to be something," I declared.

"Well. . . this one says it's for beginners."

We paid for it, then walked back to my house. She promised to help me figure it out.

"What are you doing?" she asked as I rolled up my capris.

"I don't want to get wax on my pants."

"The put on some shorts. This is only going to make a bigger mess for you."

Finally, I changed into shorts, and Hazel got everything set up. She took one of the strips and put it onto my leg. "This isn't that bad."

Hazel chose that moment to rip the strip off. "Haze, are you trying to kill me?!"

"Sorry," she said, looking over my leg. She didn't look the least bit sorry. "But it worked." She kept going, and inflicted the torture once again. "So what's going on with you and Spin?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You guys seem pretty serious."

"We are. Our relationship's hardly been normal. After everything that happened with Dean. . ."

"You got past that though. How long is he in jail for?"

"Ten years. He got the maximum."

"Good. How long has it been for you two now?"

"Five months."

"Do you love him?"

For a minute, I forgot about the waxing. I felt myself blush. "Yeah. A lot."

"Have you two. . ?"

I smiled. "No. At least not yet."

"Do you want to?"

"I do, but. . . it's hard, you know?"

"I know what you mean. Is he pushing you?"

"Never. It was me pushing him at first."

"You?!"

I nodded. "I thought that if I could sleep with him, everything with Dean would just. . . go away. OW!"

"Do you still go to that support group?"

"Sometimes. I still talk to those girls a lot." I decided to change the subject. "Isn't it about time- OW- that we get you a boyfriend?"