Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi, PowerPoint, or the concept of taboo. I just find it really fascinating, and was bored. A slight AU, takes place after Whisper to a Scream, as though Paige never told Ms. Suave about Ellie.

Paige didn't get home until five-thirty; she hadn't been able to defrag all the computers during lunch, so Simpson made her stay after school and finish the job. Ellie wasn't there, and Paige had spent the time trying not to think about what she might be doing.

Stepping through the threshold to her house, Paige called a hello to her mother and went straight up to her room without stopping in the kitchen to get a snack. Flinging her messenger bag onto her purple computer chair, she flopped onto her tufted bedspread with a soul-shaking sigh. The feelings she had been fighting off in the MI lab hit her at once: anger at herself, concern for Ellie, and desperation at life in general. As concern settled in on top, Paige imagined what Ellie could be doing right then, and in her mind's eye she saw an extremely pale Ellie passed out in a pool of blood, deep gouges in both her forearms.

Paige sat up so quickly she got light-headed. Moving quickly to her desk, she scrambled frantically through a sheaf of papers before unearthing the Degrassi Community School Student Directory. Hands shaking so bad she could barely turn the sheets of paper, Paige stopped at the 'N' section and ran her finger down the first column.

"Nacio…Napier…Nash, Ellie." Paige moved her finger along the row to Ellie's phone number. She quickly punched it into her cell phone and pressed the green dial button. Pacing the room, counting the rings, Paige was so relieved when a voice that was undeniably Ellie's answered that she forgot to respond.

"Hello? …hello? …Hello."

Paige abruptly came to her senses. "Yeah. Hi, Ellie, it's Paige."

"…what do you want?"

"What are you doing?"

"Well Paige, I'm not quite positive, but I'm pretty sure I'm talking to you."

"I mean before I called."

"I was researching stuff for Simpson's class. Something you might want to consider."

"Point taken. You weren't… uh…" Paige paused, still not sure how she should phrase it.

"Cutting myself with a shiny razorblade because of my crappy home life? No, I wasn't."

Paige mentally cursed herself. "Well, I'm glad. I just… I want you to be okay, Ellie."

"Paige, I don't know how many times I have to tell you: I am okay. I was okay before you started pretending to worry about me, and I'll be okay once you move on to another charity case."

"No, Ellie. You're not okay, you're not some charity case, and I'm not pretending. I'm really worried about you."

"Well don't be. And no offense, but I find it a little hard to believe that someone like you would be worried about someone like me."

With an angry -click- the line went dead. Paige lay back down on the bed and played with the antennae of her cell phone absent-mindedly, thinking about what Ellie had said. Why was Paige so worried about Ellie? Usually Paige just minded her own business when it came to other people's problems. So why was Ellie any different?

A soft knock on her door pulled Paige out of her reverie. "Come in," Paige called, and her mother walked in, holding a bowl.

"You didn't get a snack, so I brought you some grapes. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, Mom, I just have a ton of homework. Thanks for the grapes."

Her mom smiled, put the grapes down on the bedside table, and gave Paige a pat on the shoulder before leaving, closing the door partway behind her.

Paige glanced at the grapes with a wrinkled nose. Green. Paige liked red grapes better. Red, like Ellie's hair. Paige had always admired Ellie's hair: how soft and shiny it was, and how straight. Paige imagined running her fingers through Ellie's hair, imagined how silky it would fell.

Paige blinked. Had she really just thought that? Why the hell had she thought that? Thinking that meant… but no. Paige liked boys. She got up and looked in her closet, surveying all the pink. See? Lesbians didn't like pink. Closing the closet door, she got a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and her eyes fell on her dewy lips. Lesbians didn't wear lipgloss. Paige continued to look at her lips, and almost against her will, imagined those lips pressed tightly against El-

"No,' Paige said firmly out loud. "I like boys."

"That's great sis, so do I!" Dylan called from his room next door.

Blushing, Paige closed her bedroom door all the way and sat back down on the bed. Some scientists said that homosexuality was genetic. And genetics run in the family… If Dylan was gay…

But Spin… Paige liked Spinner, and Spinner was most definitely a boy. Unless maybe… maybe she just thought she liked him. Her roving eyes fell on her pom-poms, and she thought about a movie she had seen a few months ago about a cheerleader who got sent to straight camp. That girl had had a boyfriend, and thought she loved him. Maybe this was like that. Maybe Paige had only thought she loved Spinner, when really she loved…

Ellie.

"Well," Paige whispered, "I guess that explains why I'm so worried."