This Brilliant Dance

A/N: Please ignore my obsession with Angie being in love with Lizzie McGuire. This is the second Ang-Lizzie McGuire connection I've made in my stories, so people might start to wonder about my own obsession to the show, although I have none. I am not saying it is a bad show, and I am also not saying that "The Temptations of a Lawn Gnome" written by 'funky pink high top' is not one of the best fan fics ever, because it is. I'm only saying that Angela is a lesbian and Hilary Duff is her drug of choice.

...just kidding

Chapter 9: This Ruined Puzzle

Disclaimer: Dear Dashboard Confessional, I love you more than life in itself and I forfeit all rights of This Ruined Puzzle to you, because it is your's. However, may I inquire as to why you must start the names of songs with the word 'This'? This happens to be the second one I've used in this fan fiction alone. I was just curious. Love, Katy.

P.S. Degrassi rights forfeited to CTV and Epitome.

I walk with a purpose into that damn family planning clinic. Just get it over with, Cameron. The wait is gruesome. I hate waiting, and I hate reading, so I just sit listening to my beloved Linkin Park cd. I close my eyes and allow my thoughts to drift to my last good nights with Ellie, and then it morphed into a few nights ago with Ash. My music is on low, so I can hear, even though my hearing is impeccable, and I could hear my name even if the music was on the highest level.

"Sean," a voice says. It seems too close to be from a doctor. I open my eyes and see a kid next to me, trying hard not to look conspicuous. "Remember me?"

"Jake," I mumble. "Not the place or the time."

"Hmm... what would be the place and time, Sean? I thought about stopping by a few times, and I did, twice actually. Once, I left before I knocked because I saw a car there and figured the obvious. Then, I went and knocked, but no one answered. So I gave up."

"What do you want from me, dude? I was fucking high," I say through gritted teeth. I try to think of some way to get him off my back. "You know when you came by and saw a car? Well, dude, that's my girlfriend's. Now, if you'll excuse me." I turn the music up a notch.

"Girlfriend? Nice try," he says. "Haven't come out yet?"

"Sean Cameron," a lady in a starched white lab coat calls. Saved by the, um, call to be tested for STDs lady.

"I have no one to come out to. Ashley knows I'm bi. It doesn't bother her, because dude, I can get any person I want, male or female. I'm only sorry that I was too high to realize what a worthless piece of fuck you are, and that I can do so much better. And, oh yea, your dick is like the size of a crayon."

The truth is, I have no idea how small his penis actually is. I don't remember a thing about that night. Obviously, he does, and it really meant something to him. Which really sucks for him, because I stopped dating queer mothafuckers like himself a long time ago.

I stand and walk to the lady. She gives me the eye as I follow her into her little office. "Lady, please don't give me that, just test me for Gonorrhea and give me the necessary shit because I don't have all day."

She shook her head slowly. "Sure thing."

"This ruined puzzle is beige with the pieces,
all face down.
So the placing goes slowly.
The pictures of anything other than it's meant to be."

I hear a knock at the door, and I get up off the couch to answer it. Angie is soon next to me. "Emma!" she says excitedly and hugs Em's knees.

"Angie, hey kiddo," Em says with a small smile. I know Emma can't hide for long behind fake smiles and even faker dreams.

"Craig and I were watching," Angie starts, but then gets a confused look on her face, "Craig, what were we watching?"

"Lizzie-" I start, but before the whole word comes out of my mouth, I am interrupted.

"Oh yea! We were gonna watch Lizzie McGuire. Do you want to watch it with us? It's my favorite show!" Ang seemed like she would talk Emma's ear off if given the chance.

"Um, sure," Emma says.

I laugh silently to myself. "Get used to it," I mumble into her ear as we make our way to the couch.

Emma raises an eyebrow. "If Jack ever wants to watch Lizzie McGuire, I'll...I'll...I'll call up Marco. Or, something." For some reason, when she said 'or...' I thought she might have been saying 'or Sean.' I shake it out of my head. If Sean has his way, the only people at Degrassi to ever know this little secret will be the ones who know already.

So, I'm forced to sit through the episode because of Emma. I was thinking up some really good excuses before she came, too. Like how my unicorn is on fire and must be doused for a period of no less than 30 minutes. I laugh to myself, drawing harsh stares from both Emma and Ang, both of whom are getting way into the Lizzie/Gordo plot.

I watched their eyes light up as the final picture shows how Lizzie risked her "image" to kiss Gordo in a class picture. On the cheek. And other non-threatening images. Angie decides she's done with the Disney channel for the night and runs up to her room to play Barbies. I look down at Emma and laugh. It's so absurd that she should get into that show.

"What do you think, Craig?" she asks. After I realize she's talking about Lizzie McGuire, I squirm. I didn't really have thoughts during the show, other than my relatively creative unicorn dousing one, and then another about how non-threatening the imaging was. But I know the only answer to the question to satisfy Emma's fishing for compliments.

I kiss the top of her head gently. "That was a lame ending. Lizzie's way too slutty, going and kissing him in a picture and all that. You definitely know that Miranda gets the guy." And she giggles.

And I realize how nice it is to be with someone without even the hint of possibility of sex. Because, sometimes, the best kisses are on the cheek, and in the middle of a class picture.

Also, I think Kate's ugly, and I wish much disaster upon her.

"But the hours they creep,
The patterns repeat.
Don't be concerned,
You know I'll be fine on my own.
I never said 'Don't Go' (don't go)"

(A/N: Yes, this part is going to take this certain part of the song quite literally, because well...dammit because I LOVE the line. you'll see)

I take each step slowly, painfully aware of the glares I'm getting. Manny Santos, school slut, had one, count it- one, good thing going for her. She had found a way to deceive Craig Manning, resident Degrassi hottie with a rock and roll dream, into falling for her. "I heard she left him. How hil-fucking-larious is that? I mean, yea, he did practically have sex with Emma Nelson in the hall yesterday, and then they left together, but is she really going to act like she NEVER cheated on him? God, that chick's just chalk full of surprises." I don't know who's saying this to whom, and even if it was all from the mouth of one person or if there were two or more people involved in this conversation. I don't know, and I don't care. So I don't give them another glance. I keep my hands on my hips and a meaningful expression on my face as I begin to walk the halls of Degrassi.

I still care about Craig, but it's different. I feel used and angry, and I have no one to blame but myself. Our entire relationship was based on me not being able to let things go. Kick yourself, Manny. Kick yourself and move on. It doesn't matter what other people say. You are strong. You are your world.

That's when I see them. This obviously official couple. And I feel rage for the first time in awhile. It makes me a bit happy to know I haven't totally lost my emotions, as I had first expected. I wasn't mad at Craig, he was a free man and could fuck Marco for all I care. It's Emma. I thought we were friends. I thought... I thought she wouldn't hurt me like this.

I turn before they can see the horror in my face. Don't start a scene, Santos. If you start a scene, it will only give them more to talk about. You have to face this like a woman. It was your idea to leave the relationship, and Emma really needs someone. She was definitely headed for a breakdown. Worse than even I. I clench and unclench my fists and walk towards my locker.

Suddenly, my hands can't take the pain and stress anymore, and they rip off a piece of paper. They grab a pen, and steady themselves long enough to write. "Does he ever get the girl?" the hands write. The hands fold the note up and write "Craig" on the outside. The hands make the brain ignore the bell and the stampede of students rushing to get to class. The hands find tape(the hands are very bad and steal the tape off of a SITE poster) and tape the note down on the outside of Craig's locker. "Bad hands," I scold as the feet take over, and we walk away. "That was a very bad thing." But the hands don't listen. They are quiet again, leaving their decisions to the brain again.

"I've written a note,
it's pressed between pages,
that you've marked to find your way back.
It says, 'Does he ever get the girl?'"

If I leave now, the damage has been done. If I leave in three weeks, the damage has been done. I want to stick around for the sense of security. I also don't know if I will ever leave. It's not like that is a set in stone decision. I wouldn't keep lying and wrecking everything in my path if I knew I was going to leave. I would take the little piece of dignity I had once had, but I've lost in the past few weeks.

Ashley Kerwin as defined by the majority of Degrassi students: Perfect turned confused. Has broken hearts, has had heart broken. Off and on friendship with Paige Michalchuk and such, the 'off' coming only when Ashley feels they are too superficial and fake for her. Ashley Kerwin can make anyone inside the walls swoon and fall in love, no matter the barriers of gender, age, race, or status.

Ashley Kerwin as defined by the ones who understand: Fucked up. Fucked up beyond comprehension. So fucked up that if there was an idea for the Fucked Up Olympics, they would immediately send Ashley the gold without thinking twice. Ashley will fall into a deep pit of depression and make you feel like shit if you screw up once and cheat on her. However, Ashley will also have a serious affair while dating a person she supposedly "loves."

Here's the thing, after JT's reaction, I can never let him find out that what I said was a lie. No matter what, I will always uphold that as fact. Under no circumstances will I EVER admit that Paul Benson did not rape me on numerous occasions. Someday soon, I feel, I'm going to live with Sean, and then the whole thing will fall quickly. All of the lies and deceit will be uncovered, and I know JT will be so hurt, he'll never speak to me again. This, I am ready for. I will be able to take him knowing that I'm not his angel, that I slept around with Sean, maybe even that Sean was the one who gave me the awful disease. But I will still uphold that Paul Benson raped me.

Because it also happened to him. By a man he loved as much as he loved his father. And it happened for three years. This man did every cruel thing imaginable, torturing JT, haunting him. Not only was there the molestation and rape, but there was beatings. Beatings to scare JT into not talking. Beatings so bad, he ended up in the hospital twice. He said his mom had to of known, it was rather obvious, but it was his mother's brother. So, it was family against family.

I saw JT shake so hard, I had to straddle him and pin down his appendages for him to stop. I saw JT cry so hard, his cheeks became raw to the touch. I saw what actual rape and torture does to a child. I SAW. And now I can never let him know that I lied.

He would kill me, without thinking twice. He would throw his life down the toilet and send bullets into my body. I know he would. And I can't believe myself any more today than I did three days ago when I told the lie. That damn lie. Even if it was the only way out. Now, I will have to risk my life to protect that lie.

Seeing him from across the caf, I immediately run over to him. We hug hard and long since we haven't seen each other since yesterday. "I love you so much," I whisper. "I love you. We're kindred spirits, you and I. There's a reason for everything, and you're my reason for breathing." I know it was a little much, but half of it was true. I'm just not sure what part.

"I love you too, Ash," he answers, smiling proudly. I trace circles on his back. We're sitting down now, but not any further apart then we were when we were standing. I'm practically sitting in his lap, but it's ok. We're sitting alone.

"Thank you for opening up," I say, staring into his eyes.

"After everything I said to you, accused you of, and to think... to think of what was going through your head the whole time. Ashley, I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, JT," I say with this upbeat attitude that I've been plastering on for him lately. "You didn't know. But, we're here now. We're together, and we're safe. That's the end of it, right?"

He smiles. I feel the lie dripping into my heart, burning it with a passion, and my heart too weak to fight back. Look how he loves you. Look at what you're doing to him. "Right. The end."

"But what if the pages stay pressed,
the chapters unfinished,
the stories too dull to unfold?
'Does he ever get the girl?'"

I tried for about fifteen minutes to talk her into letting me go over to Craig's, but no, I'm NEEDED here, and if I leave, I won't be seeing Craig for a month. Or two. So I sulked all the way down the stairs into my basement room. A cellar, reminiscent of a coffin, constantly reminding me of reality. Craig's not my reality; he's my vacation. This is my reality: dirty diapers and medical bills.

My mom and I have always had that highly coveted friendship that most families seem to lack. My mom has always been the most important person in my life, and I know that for a long time, I was all that she had. Still, it seems unfair for her to dump on me. I understand, I have to for the sake of sanity, but I can still disagree with it.

My cell phone begins to shake violently and play "Maybe" a NERD song that I fell in love with. One of the few good things of the Chris train wreck. Not that it was that bad, it was just so painfully obvious that opposites don't attract. I pick up the phone and see the name of the person on the other end. I smile like an idiot. "Hello?" I ask, acting unfazed.

"Eh-mmaaaa," I hear his boyish voice sing, and I find myself laughing. The way he says my name will constantly make me weak at the knees. It always seems like a song when he says it, even when he's not saying it in a sing-song voice.

"Hey boytoy," I say, still smiling. "What's your agenda? Not just trying to get into my pants, are ya?"

There was a brief silence, one in which I could imagine him plastering a faux-hurt look on his face. "Of course. So I'll be over in 15. Get nakey."

I laugh again, trying hard not to. "Oh, but see, I already am."

"Sweeeet," he says. My laugh has gradually reduced to a small smile, but somehow the look of happiness can not be erased from my mind. He stops laughing on the other end. "Do you want to come over?" he asks.

It seems not right for him to come here. His house is my haven, and he knows this. He doesn't care either, Joey's house still seems like a big vacation to him. He never even asks to come over here, unless he's going to pick me up. "I can't," I say dejectedly. "I have to be a prisoner in the dungeon until Mommie Dearest says I can head out. I don't think tonight, though. She wants me to stick around since Snake's at chemo, and she may have to leave to go see him and leave Jack here with me."

"I see. Well, I could always come over there and wait in the merciless basement dungeon with you, my princess," he says, his voice coated sweetly.

I silently praise Craig for his ingenuity, the thought never even occurring to me. "Please!" I yelp. "I mean, if you want, that would be... pretty cool."

"I do want," he answers after letting out a few laughs. "A nakey princess in her decrepit, yet somehow modernly decorated and not rank, basement dungeon."

"Trench coat and high heels, buddy," I retort.

"Oh, that's so sexy. Don't tease me," he says in his creepy, horny voice. His voice softens back to normal, "Be over in a few."

"'K Craig. See ya soon," I say through a smile.

About 15 minutes later, I hear his voice in my kitchen from the basement. I pull myself off the bed and head up. I reach the top of the stairs and smile. He's holding Jack as mom is busy at the stove trying to heat up a bottle. "...tell Joey not to worry, that we'll manage," I hear Mom say, but I don't listen, still staring at Craig.

"Hi sissy Emma," Craig says, moving Jack's hand to wave.

"Who are we letting hold the baby these days?" I joke to Mom. "This delinquent will probably run off with him and sell him on the black market."

Mom steps behind Craig, testing the milk on her wrist. After she decides it's good, she pets Craig with her non-milked up hand. "I think he's kind of cute. Can't we keep him?" she asks, playfully. I break out in a smile I haven't felt in awhile. They switch possession of the baby, and Mom starts to hum softly. "Feeding time," she says as she walks into the living room.

Craig walks up behind me and puts his arm around my waist. He begins to nibble on my neck. "When she said feeding time, she meant the baby," I joke. Instead of retorting, I turn around in his arms. I kiss him lightly on both sides of the mouth, right where his lips met his cheek. Suddenly, the baby's cry pierces through our ears, and I pull away. "Downstairs is quieter," I say. Before waiting for him to answer, I throw him down the stairs and pull the door closed.

"That's what I call captivity, Emma Nelson," he says in a painful holier than thou attitude. After a second, he broke into a smile. "Wouldn't peg you for an S&M girl."

I breathe in, sharply but slowly, piercing the air. "Take off your shirt," I order playfully. Without a word, he does so. "Now get on the bed." He did that as well, laying on his back staring at me. His sex appeal factor at this moment could rival Johnny Depp's in Pirates of the Carribean.

"Now what?" he asks softly, out of character. His voice makes me sweat.

I want nothing more than him at this moment. I want him in every way imaginable. "Make love to me, boytoy," I say, but my voice is no longer cool. It's shaky and every syllable is a struggle. He raises his eyebrows questioningly, but I just nod. And then he does what he's told.

In my basement dungeon, on a day that I only wanted to die, with a baby crying in the background, and the constant fear that my mother would somehow appear at the bedside, I lost my virginity. It's almost like, I know. I know that if I grow to be 102 and have sex twice a day for the rest of my life, nothing can rival this. The sincerity in his eyes and the gentleness of his touch will send shivers down my spine until I'm six feet under.

So, imagine my surprise at his sudden exit. He mumbles something about babysitting Angela and Joey killing him, and he bolts up the stairs. I don't even move, my facial expression stays calm and unrevealing. I lay in my coffin for the next sixteen hours.

What the HELL just happened here?

"Well this basement's a coffin, I'm buried alive.
I'll die in here just to be safe.
I'll die in here just to be safe.
'Cause you're gone, I get nothing,
And you're off with barely a sigh.
I never said, 'Goodbye.'"

I sit, watching, not caring who is watching back. I watch Spinner and Paige have a minor arguement that slowly escalates until she finally has enough and storms away, Hazel quickly in tow. Jimmy hits Spinner on the shoulder, obviously mad that due to his friend's stupidity, he would not get a chance to mack on his chick during lunch today. Pity.

I watch Spinner say a few words as he tosses more chips in his mouth and shrug. Nonchalant Spinner, how I love your goofiness. I wonder what he would say if I actually said that to him. Firstly, he would make a joke about my French pronunciation of nonchalant. Then, he would make a joke to one of his friends about how in love with him I am. As if.

I play stupidly with the bracelet hangingly loosely off my wrist. People watching can be entertaining, so long as they don't catch on and tell a group of friends that you're now a stalker. "Manny," I hear my name, but it sounds alien coming from the person that it's coming from. "Single, sultry Manuella Santos."

"Get away Sully," I mutter. He sits next to me where I'm leaning against the tree. It's no use. No matter how hard I protest, he'll talk to me and somehow manage to get a rise out of me.

"Heard you dumped the asshole," he says.

"He has a name," I whisper, almost defeated.

"Yea, but we're too good for that. We're too good to call people by names. They are what they are, end of story."

"O.K., horn dog, what's it to you who I dump? It's not like you know us, either of us. It's not even like you can begin to imagine the shit we went through." I notice his mouth a bit open, about to speak. "Stop thinking so hard."

"Horn dog, Manuella? Horn dog? I've been thinking of no woman but you. You broke my heart."

I stand up, suddenly repulsed more than I had been before. "Shove it Sully. Try your sob story on someone who wants to jump into bed with you. I'm not that girl anymore. I'm sorry I ever was."

I begin to walk away when I realize it. The relationship with Craig was not the pile of shit I had made it out to be. That relationship gave me confidence to just tell Sully off. Who was he to talk about Craig like that? He doesn't know Craig. He doesn't know how wonderful he is.

And, at the exact moment of epiphany, I turn into the hallway of Craig's locker. He stands there, holding my letter at arm's length, obviously confused. I turn and silently start outside again. It's time for me to head home.

"But I've hidden a note, its pressed between pages,
that you've marked to find your way back.
It says, 'Does he ever get the girl?'"

I bang my head on my locker over and over. Everyone's at lunch, or something. I see this note, but it looks like something I can put off, so I keep banging. Why on earth would anyone do a thing like I did to the person that I did it to?

There are the obvious conclusions. "Craig Manning, stunned by the impalpable beauty of Emma Nelson, has forfeited his identification card as part of the male species today. After an intense de-virginization, Craig left Emma alone in her basement, where she most likely cried herself to sleep. When asked why, Craig had no answers. Our resident psychiatrist, Dr. Joe, has come up with the conclusion that Emma was only attractive as an unattainable object, something his old girlfriend, Manny Santos, could not come close to. After attaining her, Craig felt the attraction ceased and made up a lame excuse to leave as soon as his own dick went limp."

No, no, no. All wrong. Emma is attractive! Emma is still unattainable! Emma needs me, and I need her. I just, had to leave. I felt like I was gonna throw up, or something. God. I don't know why I left. I don't know why I even did it. I didn't want to. I wanted a relationship without sex at the center of it.

What happened was so intense, that sex will always be a part of my relationship with Emma now. And I knew this! I knew it so well. So, why did I do it, you may ask. Well, if I knew, I wouldn't be standing in the middle of the hallway still banging my head against this locker.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The headache grows increasingly more difficult to deal with, so I stop. I rip the note off the locker and open it. I read the words. Was this some kind of sick joke? Who knew? Who would do this to me?

This handwriting, so obviously feminine, could have come from Emma herself. Oh, God. Buckle your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen, this is gonna be a bumpy ride.

"But I've hidden a note, its pressed between pages,
that you'll read if you're so inclined.
'Does he ever get the girl?'"

Fighting with Paige is as routine to me as eating a pop tart for breakfast. So why does this one feel so different? It's something about the look in her eyes when I made the joke. The way her entire face distorted and I felt like crumpling on the floor and dying. The way she made it sting this time worse than she ever could before.

The look on her face was real, and now I'm in real shit. How one little comment about me boning her could turn into this huge thing that might end up ruining our relationship, I'm not sure. Not saying I'm not totally ready for it, because I am. I've been her little lap dog for far too long now, and I've been looking for an easy way out for about half a year.

I've never been in another relationship that lasted half a year. I've been sustaining this one, this fake one, for that long. How's that for pathetic? Pathetic, sad, poor little Spinner. Who desperately needs spray cheese.

So I find myself alone in my kitchen, spraying the cheese. After a couple minutes of this, I move on to oreos and milk. I have the amazing ability to focus all of my energy on eating when I'm doing it. When I'm with other people, they have to talk or otherwise entertain themselves while eating. I am never bored while eating. I can sit at the kitchen counter for hours, eating and not paying attention to a thing around me.

So I tried to ignore the phone the first time it rang. The second time, I made a small effort to check the caller ID. Paige. So I ignored it again. The third time she called, I actually answered.

"Paige," I say, my mouth twitching, anxious to have food in it once more and not be wasting time on the pettiness of Paige Michalchuk.

"Spinner," she says, equally as unemotional. "I just wanted to make sure you're alright without me. That I won't have to deal with another suicide." My entire body flinches at this. I was never close to Ellie, but that was harsh. That was unnecessary, most definitely.

"Paige, I'm fine. It's been over for awhile." This sentence looms over the line, and I'm tempted to ask if she's still there.

"Yea, well, I know. I was just checking on you. I know it must be hard on someone like yourself." She doesn't even try to hide the bitchiness in her voice. Trying to get a rise out of me, eh? Well, it doesn't exactly work like that with Spinner Mason. Not with you. Nice try, Michalchuk.

"I really think I'm gonna make it." Without waiting for her response, I hang up.

I go back to my cookies, but soon Kendra walks in. Can a man not get some peace? "I heard about you and Paige," she says. She doesn't say it sympathy-like, how most sisters would, but she seems almost happy. I stand up and walk up to my room. All I wanted to do was eat.

"But the hours they creep, the patterns repeat.
Don't be concerned, I know I'll be fine on my own.
I never said 'Don't go.'
Don't go.
'Does he ever get the girl?'"