A/N: Ya'll probably want to murder me now, right? I feel like a terrible author, really. I just needed.... something. And that 'something' came up, so I got it done. It's pretty long- for me, at least. I'll try to update sooner.
Now was a time where I felt really stupid. I mean, I felt like an idiot. First, I don't recognize who Paige really is- well, in my defense, she had dyed her hair light brown, but still. She still had her Paige Michalchuck nose, eyes, lips. It wasn't brain surgery. Second, once I do figure out who she is- how do I treat her? I drop her on the freaking ground.
And looking at her on the ground, her hands holding her back up from the filthy concrete, she was probably feeling the exact same way.
Four years and we were still thinking alike. Lord Jesus help me.
The awkward look that we were giving each other lingered for a couple more seconds, until Paige couldn't take it anymore.
"Well, there goes my theory." Her eyes filled with hatred.
"Excuse me?"
"We all took turns guessing why you left." Her eyes brightened with phony excitement. "I suggested that you were dead, but I guess this is proving me wrong."
Ouch.
"Unless you're a ghost with an extremely good tan. Tell me, what's it like in hell?" Her jaw locked, the way it always did once she was finished burning someone.
"Okay, well obviously you don't know the entire story-" I began to defend myself.
"No. I want you to listen, Marco. All I know is that you walked away from me, your band, your family, and Dylan." Despite the fact that her ankle was most likely broken, she lifted herself off of the ground and met me at my face. "You broke my brother's heart. I don't give a shit why you left. When you left, everyone's world went crashing down. That's how much you meant to all of us."
This is another perfect time for me to have a hole to crawl into. I really needed to consider moving in with a mole or something like that.
"Alright, what you do now is try to defend yourself, and I retort with more harsh things to say. Trust me, I have plenty." She stuck her face so close to mine, I could have kissed her without moving my lips.
"Nice to see you again too, Paige."
"Screw you." She hopped over to her groceries and picked up a branch that had fallen onto the ground, using it as some kind of makeshift crutch. Or should I say makeshit.
"Can I at least tell you what happened?" She stopped, but didn't turn around.
"Can't promise I'll listen," she called over her shoulder.
It was really cold outside. And I had forgotten my jacket back in my house.
Well, my parents' house. I couldn't truthfully say that it was mine anymore. They probably had disowned me by now, given my room to my brother to be transformed into a weight room, and had painted over my height chart.
I had been given three minutes to pack whatever I could and get my butt out of the house, my father yelling a countdown up the stairs all the while. I grabbed my clothes out of my drawers, toothpaste, floss, whatever I could find from my bathroom, and stuffed them all into my brother's athletic bag. I felt my hand under my bed, and came up with a picture that I shoved into my back pocket.
"TEN SECONDS!" He screeched from below.
I thought about shoes at the very last minute, but didn't have that kind of time. It had sounded like my father had taken his gun off of the mantle and meant business.
I couldn't believe that this was all actually happening. I had been out of my house for at least thirty minutes, but I didn't know where I was, or where I was going to go. Suddenly I felt really tired, so out of my small bag I took a pair of pants, rolled them up, and set them on the end of the bench I was sitting on.
I still didn't know what would happen to me, but to figure out what, I needed rest.
Right as my eyelids drooped over my eyes, I heard what sounded like a muffled Macarena playing somewhere. My phone ringtone.
"Shit," I whispered. My hands dug through my bag until I found the silver phone at the bottom. I flipped it open, Ellie's name flashing over the screen. I pressed the talk button and held it up to my ear.
"Okay, so where the fuck are you?"
"Yeah, hey El," I responded sarcastically.
"I go to your house, ring the doorbell, and your mother answers the door with red blotchy eyes." She drew a huge breath in and let it back out. "And all she does when she sees me is start crying even more and then slams the door in my face. And THEN-" another breath, "your father starts screaming like a madman from behind the door."
"Christ," I breathed.
"Look, explain later. Where are you?" Ellie. My lady-knight in shining armor.
"The park. I think." I looked around me. It seemed like the park, but my vision was blurred from the aching headache I had.
"You think, or you know?" I could hear her boots slamming down on hard concrete.
"Um... I don't know. Just..." My head started to swim.
"Okay, just hold on. I'm coming to get you, okay?" That was the last thing I heard her say. My body twisted back onto the bench, and I could feel myself blacking out.
My eyes closed, my hand fell to the ground and dropped my phone. The last thing I remembered was the crunch of my phone falling to the ground and breaking apart.
---
I woke up to one of the familiar posters on Ellie's wall. Well, it was Ellie's poster, but not her wall. It was technically Sean's wall. But it didn't matter. Sean's walls were keeping me warm.
"Good. I knew that'd wake you up." She was staring up at the ceiling, counting how many tiles there were. Her hair was really wet and her clothes were even wetter. She had either fallen into snow, or had taken a shower with her clothes on.
"Are you insane?" I weakly asked. I clutched my stomach; it hurt like hell. "What'd you give me?" I flipped over, not facing her. "Ow."
"Yes, I'm insane. I gave you green tea and codeine. Narcotics always worked for my mother."
"How'd you get me here from the park?"
"Shh. 22...23...24..." I stood up and watched her use her index finger to point out where she was on her odd counting spree. If only I could experience one day in the life of Ellie Nash. Then I would understand everything.
"Your phone is shit. I tried fixing it, but gave up an hour ago." She coughed. "29..."
"How long have I been asleep?" I sat down on the edge of the bed not facing her.
"Shit if I know. 34..."
"I have to call Dylan." I walked into the next room and pressed the button to find the cordless. The 'beep beep' made my head throb even more. I walked into the miniscule kitchen and found it in the microwave.
Ellie obviously hadn't wanted to talk to Sean lately.
My fingers went on auto-pilot, dialing the numbers that were so familiar to me. It was the only thing in the world that I wanted to do right now. Talk to Dylan.
It rang once, twice, three times until someone picked up. The ringing wasn't doing good for my throbbing head.
"Hello?" Paige answered.
"Hey Paige. Where's Dylan?" I asked eagerly.
"Hockey practice. What's wrong?" She could hear the eager tone in my voice.
"Nothing. I'll try his cell."
"He didn't bring it with him."
"Fine. I'll call him later. Bye." I pressed the 'end' button and set it back into the microwave. I didn't want Ellie bitching me out because Sean's incessant calls woke her up while trying to sleep.
While making my way back to the bedroom, I could hear faint voices from outside Ellie's front door. They were yelling. They sounded Italian.
"Um, El?" I called.
"Yeah?"
"Do you hear those voices?" Being paranoid, my eyes kept darting from Ellie to the doorknob, expecting it to open any second.
"Now, Marco. I know you were out in the cold for an hour, but it takes years to develop Schizophrenia," she joked.
"No, El. Seriously." My eyes picked up the pace. The room began to spin; I felt like I was on a rollercoaster. Codeine and roller coasters never mixed well.
"There's these really obnoxious kids who live across the lawn. They're probably fighting with their parents for some stupid reason."
The room stopped spinning, my eyes ceased from being paranoid. My churning stomach settled, and my feverish head toned down for a second. I let out a big breath, but then immediately regretted it.
Three rapid bangs on the door rang throughout the house. There were those voices again. My parents' voices.
"Open up!" My father barked.
About twenty cuss words flashed through my head.
Ellie, her face ridden with worry, came out of her bedroom and gave me a wearing look. She didn't want me to open it. With that look, she was pleading with me not to open it. And I wouldn't have, if it weren't for my mother.
"Marco, please. Open the door, please." It hit me right in that soft spot that you have for your parents, where you'll give in to anything they want. I couldn't resist.
My body moved toward the door when Ellie grabbed on to my arm for dear life.
"Don't open it," she urged. Her eyes were already filled with tears.
"OPEN UP!" my father yelled back.
"Marco, no." Ellie commanded. "I already lost Sean. Please. Don't open it." Her tears were ruining the eyeliner and mascara she had packed on. Her big, brown eyes were open so wide, she could have swallowed me whole with them.
"OPEN. THE. DOOR!" I could only picture the boiling red face my father had right now. I could only imagine what terrible picture he had planned out for me. The plan to save me from sin.
"No," Ellie whimpered. She grabbed me into her arms. "No. I love you. You can't leave." She quietly pleaded.
"I love you too." I pushed her off of me and unlocked the door, leaving her there hunched over into a ball. Once I opened the door, my father grabbed me from the warmth of the house and shoved me into the snow.
"Get up," he barked. My face began to freeze from the snow packed into it. I pushed myself up from the ground and staggered onto a pole to hold me up.
"The car. Get in." He pushed me off of the pole and into his old Saturn. My body felt as if a thousand pieces of glass were piercing my skin as the cold car's outer skin punched into my stomach. My bloody hand opened up the door and I pushed myself into the car.
My mother and father followed suit, minus the bloody hand and pieces of glass.
"Where are we going?" I asked weakly.
"You, my..." he paused, "son," he continued, "are going to Vancouver." He took a quick turn on the icy road, causing the tires to squeak and my mother to yelp in surprise.
"For what?" I protested, my voice raising. I felt like a prisoner taken captive.
"Now, Marco. Calm down," my mother reached back and took my hand. My father slapped her arm away and she recoiled back into her seat.
"But Ma, why?" I wanted my question answered.
"Boarding school, Marco. We're sending you to boarding school." She said quietly.
"Where they will monitor your every move. Any phone calls you make, any letters you send will be monitored by an adult. There will be NO talking to that... boy."
'That boy' meaning Dylan. I couldn't talk to Dylan.
"In fact, no talking to anyone except your mother or I. You'll just have to make new friends there." He took another sharp turn. My father was prone to major road rage.
"But Pa..." My heart was sinking with every word he uttered. No Dylan. It kept repeating itself in my mind.
"SHUT UP!" He screamed.
I sunk into the seat and covered my face with my hands. I had to start all over again. No more Ellie, Jimmy, Craig, Spinner, Paige. No more Degrassi, The Dot, band rehearsals. No more Dylan.
I reached into my pocket and took out the object I had quickly placed there earlier. It was the extra picture from the strip of my presidential pictures. Dylan was in that picture. It was all I had left.
Everything I loved, held dear. It was all gone. And I wouldn't ever get it back.
"I'm sorry, Paige. Once it was all over with, I couldn't go back." My face was wet all over. "It just hurt too much."
Paige was barely moving, except for her wavering hand attached to the stick. Afraid that she was going to fall over, I took a step forward.
"I- I can't believe Ellie never told you."
She finally turned around. She was crying just as hard as I was, perhaps even harder. Dropping the stick, she threw her arms around me and sobbed into my jacket.
"I'm so sorry," she kept repeating.
"It's not," I took an abrupt breath, "your fault."
"No, Marco." She pulled back with an apologetic face. "Ellie's dead, Marco. She committed suicide right after you left. I'm so sorry." Then she buried her head back into my jacket and held on tighter.
"No," Ellie whimpered. She grabbed me into her arms. "No. I love you. You can't leave."
It was my fault she was dead.
A/N: Review buttons are shiny. So press it. You know you want to.