( i. Terri.)
It's ironic, because Terri is what took Rick away from Degrassi in the first place (and he still has nightmare memories of her suddenly fragile body fallen on the green). The irony is found in the fact that it is somehow Terri who is also responsible for bringing Rick I back /I .
He's trailing along helplessly in his mother's wake through the second floor of the shopping-mall when he's stopped quite literally in his tracks by Terri's image smiling out from a storefront poster. She must have started modeling again on the west coast, Rick realises, because he recognises the picture as a recent one. She cut her hair short after the accident. She's still the most beautiful thing Rick's ever seen.
"Ricky," says his mother, interrupting his epiphany, shooting him a concerned look over her left shoulder.
And Rick can't help but smile because he's just come up with a plan, a brilliant wonderful chance at redemption. He can make himself better. He can show that his metamorphosis wasn't for nothing. "Maman," he whispers, "For my birthday? I know what I want. Can I go back to Degrassi?"
(ii. Darcy.)
Rick returns to Degrassi and it is nothing like he'd hoped because he had forgotten that concepts like forgiveness can be foreign ones to masses of teenagers. But Rick is not swayed from his task; he can somehow manage to ignore the whispers and the laughter and the bruises. In his mind he's a curious combination of Gandhi and Mersault and Christ and Marx and Dr King and he pulls inspiration from all of them.
The thing he didn't realise is how me would be already infamous in the collective mind of Degrassi. They are a crowd that moves and acts as one, and apologizing will be difficult. He would have considered it impossible until he met her, the new girl, beautiful lovely Darcy.
Perhaps losing the kissing-contest is worth it, because of her – his symbol of hope. There was not even a flicker of either disgust or pity in her eyes when she kissed him, and this is what he remembers.
(Because he didn't notice the flash of blue folded five-dollar bill in her hand, he is able to cherish these delusions.)
(iii. Toby.)
The thing about Toby is that he's the first real kindred spirit Rick's ever known, and something about their sharing of jokes and trivia and homework and kissing-contests makes Rick feel almost normal. Toby is his friend. Rick has friends, Rick has Toby, and Toby is perfect because Toby's smart and laughs in all the right places and Toby understands and Toby deserved to have won the contest, truly, because he's quite good at it.
The only thing Rick doesn't like is that how somehow he's become Toby's liability, because before they were friends Toby was invisible and now he's being slammed into lockers and threatened and bruised. Toby's bloodied lip is the last straw, because there's nothing Rick dislikes more than the sight of blood (too many memories his father's voice echoing in his ears his mother slumped in a corner and Terri fallen in the field).
To feel anything for himself is selfish. (But he can be angry, for Toby.)
(iv. Emma.)
It may have taken him a while to realise it, but standing up in front of the cameras dazzling in his suit there comes another epiphany, and it must be that Emma is the reason behind all of it, the goal of his metamorphosis and the reward for his patience. She is beautiful and passionate and wonderful. She's the best girl he's ever met – she's kind and passionate and wonderful. There's nothing fragile about Emma, he thinks. She wouldn't bend or break or bruise. She's forged of invisible steel and if you cut her she wouldn't even bleed, only light would shine from under her skin. And all of this has been for her; he's struck dumb by this revelation and it's all he can do to go on answering questions and having his moment of glory for the cameras.
He almost doesn't mind the humiliation, paint and feathers falling in front of the whole entire nation because they've won at least, because he can present Emma with the golden trophy and then offer up his heart in the palm of his hands. She won't be broken and they'll be happy, he thinks. He's done it.
But in the end she shoves him away and tries to wipe away the very traces of his presence, yellow spots of paint on her clothes like wounds. She's not invincible after all, Rick thinks, because now he's just hurt her and he can feel the whole world going supernova, collapsing in.
(v. Sean.)
The other boy is strong, Rick realises. He's close enough to hear Sean's heart beating because he's so afraid, and it's only then that Rick realises that he's afraid too. It's almost over.
The gun sings in his hands.