Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi: The Next Generation, its characters, or any other paraphernalia involved. This fan fiction was written for entertainment purposes only, and no copyright infringement is intended. I also don't own the rights to the delightful Kill Hannah songs that always seem to appear as my titles. Is obsession spelled with two S's or three?
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Author's Note: Woo hoo! I finally got me a new story! Hopefully I'll be able to finish this one... I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes. My beta [little brother] refuses to talk to me anymore.
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Bren Eldrid Bera presents...
No One Dreams Anyway
Chapter One
He sat on the living room floor of his parent's posh three-bedroom, two and a half bath apartment, holding a remote in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. Scattered around him was an absolute mess. Sports magazines featuring famous basketball and hockey players on the covers, CDs, spiral notebooks, and random articles of clothing were among the clutter. Empty soda cans and chip bags decorated a side table next to the couch where a guitar lay.
The teen, who sat in the middle of it all, didn't notice the disorder. He was absentmindedly flipping through TV channels with the remote, but he wasn't really paying attention to what flashed across the screen, either. His mind was focused on the elegant writing that made up a note:
Jimmy,
I have to work late at the office tonight, I'm not sure if I'll be able to come home. There's money on the counter for takeout, or there's leftovers in the fridge. You should probably call your father sometime around eight; Vancouver is on Pacific Standard. You'll probably catch him just before he leaves the hotel. Try not to stay up too late studying for that geometry test. I'm sure you'll do fine.
Love Mom
He had the apartment to himself for the night. That was what...? The third, fourth time this week? Jimmy didn't know and frankly, he was starting not to care anymore. Why waste time worrying over something he could never change?
His father could spend the rest of his life in Vancouver on some "business trip" for all he cared. The only thing he didn't like was the lying. He knew that his father was having an affair. He knew his father was involved with his secretary, an uptight practical woman who Jimmy didn't care for, or wouldn't even if she wasn't having intercourse with his Dad.
And the situation with his mother wasn't any better. She spent the night at her friend Liana's apartment whenever Jimmy's father wasn't home. He honestly didn't care that his mother couldn't deal with the fact that her husband was unfaithful. Jimmy just wished they would tell the truth for once instead of leaving him a thoughtless note filled with lies.
A sudden beeping noise cut through the silence of the near-empty apartment and his thoughts. Jimmy turned the TV to "mute" and glanced over at the kitchen.
The oven had preheated.
He slowly picked himself up off the floor, leaving the remote behind. The note his mother had written him stayed in his hand until he reached a garbage can.
Jimmy made his way over to the kitchen and opened the chrome refrigerator. Yesterday's leftovers – meatloaf – were to become tonight's dinner. He removed the plastic wrap and unceremoniously dumped the plate's contents onto a pan he had set out earlier. He opened the oven, shoved the pan in, and shut it again.
He noticed a few dollar bills lying on the counter near where he had found his mother's note; after further investigation, he discovered it was the pizza money. Jimmy casually pocketed the bills before leaning over to grab his backpack off the floor. He set it on the counter and, after unzipping it, pulled out his geometry textbook.
Tomorrow's test was on transformations, a subject he knew close to nothing about. Math was just... boring. Everyday in Mr. Armstrong's desk, minutes after the bell rang, he would stare blankly at the whiteboard only to "wake up" forty minutes later realizing that he had probably missed something important.
Lucky for him, Hazel was willing to give him a copy of her notes after every class. The girl was a saint.
That was what he was staring at now, the precise notes filled with sketches of various polygons that had been reflected, rotated, and transformed over an X or Y axis. He didn't have a clue what she was talking about.
He flipped the page over and read the first practice problem that he saw:
Two houses are located on a rural road 'm'. You want to place a telephone pole on the road at point 'C' so that the length of the telephone cable, AC + BC, is a minimum. Where should you locate 'C'?
Jimmy mutely reread the passage and let out a discouraged sigh. He was definitely paying for his day-dreaming now. He stared at the paragraph and until the words started to run together. He rubbed his eyes, blinked a couple of times and went back to reading.
After about five minutes, he found he was still on the same problem. Jimmy finally gave up and went to work what he thought to be an easier question.
Sketch an octagon with exactly two lines of symmetry.
Jimmy confidently picked up his mechanical pencil and leaned on the counter. Finally, a problem he could do! He set the lead down on the paper and started to scribble out what he thought was the answer. All of the sudden, his hand started to shake and the diagram he was drawing became a mess of random lines.
"What the hell?"
They were the first words that he had spoken since he had gotten home two hours ago, and they echoed throughout the empty apartment.
Jimmy stared at his hand; it was violently jerking around. He dropped the pencil and grabbed his shaking right hand with the left, trying to end the convulsions.
It wouldn't stop though. The quivering continued for about four more minutes, in which Jimmy emptily stared at his hand. He looked up and saw the room was moving. Or rather, individual objects were moving in circles. He blinked his eyes several times and he tried to will what ever the hell was wrong with him away.
Nothing happened though. His right hand kept shaking and he started to feel dizzy. Jimmy's knees almost gave out. He grabbed the counter in an attempt to steady himself. He stared down at the white linoleum floor. He'd never noticed the winding flower pattern before...
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he got better. Jimmy could see again, and the lightheaded feeling went away. His hand still trembled a little, but it was better than those earlier convulsions
"Maybe Marco was right," he confessed to his geometry book. "Maybe I should go see a doctor..."
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Hey... if you've actually seen the newer episodes and you feel up to it... could you e-mail me at darthmoth_vegeir@yahoo.com and tell me what happens? [i.e. what's the situation with Jimmy and Hazel?] Thankies!