Part II

XXV. Wide Awake, and Still at Degrassi

Monday- The Next Week.

4 Days until Whack-Your-Brain

They wanted to put me in the honors program at my school. There are two of them: one for the junior high students in general, and one that's a little more prestigious for the eighth graders. Now that includes me! I realize that Andrew Watkins will continue to call me "Vivi-midget", even more now since I'm an official geek, but that's perfectly fine by me: he'll be working for ME someday.

Middle school ends before high school, so Vince is never home before I am, and dad is out of town for the next two days. I'll just call him later.

But at least mom's home! Geesh, I have to tell someone right now!

Impatiently I'm waiting for this stupid bus to reach my house, heck, even the street so I can hurry home. I had been talking my family's ear off about this for about a week, and now they'll probably be more relieved than happy that I finally got what I had wanted for so long. I don't feel too bad about it though, if you compare me to Vince stressing out about Brown University. He decided to apply for early admission, and he won't let us forget how agonizing it is to fill out the common application on top of the application for the actual school he's applying for. Man, they make you work for that Ivy League status!

Finally the bus stops on my street, and I hurry off of it, swerving through the other kids. Now I'm starting to see the perks of being forever small: I can easily maneuver through a tight crowd. My mom calls this advantage my "magic petite powers". Who the heck would ever use that expression?

I walk down a peaceful block in a peaceful state of mind. A part from my classmates' playful screams echoing in the distance, my street is usually quiet. I wave at a little girl with ponytails jumping rope in the front yard at her house. "Hi!" She cries happily. I don't know her name; I just refer to her as the happy kid.

We live in a pretty decent neighborhood; we're not in the city, but not exactly in the suburbs either. There's about an even mix between blacks and whites, and a Hispanic family or two in the neighborhood. For the most part, it's a safe place.

I whistle the seven dwarfs' theme from Snow White as I half walk, half trot the short distance back to my house. I approach the glass screen door, which is usually unlocked at this time, and fish my key out of my pocket. I don't hesitate to open both doors and hurry in.

I know the house inside and out; it's the only home I've ever known for thirteen years. My mom is usually in one of two places when I get here: the kitchen or the family room.

But it's different this time around. My mind skips the routine two second search for my mom.

I really don't know how long I stand staring at her slumped over in her usual chair. It could have been five seconds; thirty minutes; one hour. Or five. I'm waiting for her to lift her head up and notice me like she usually does. She would smile at me with her pearly white teeth, a beautiful contrast against her dark face.

Now she has no face left. What's left of it is smothered in dark blood. What's supposed to be inside of my mom is now splattered behind her on the wall all over our family pictures like paint. It's drenched in her favorite chair, and dripping onto the floor drop by drop, forming a large, dark red puddle. Red. So much red. Red against the white walls. Red against the pastels in the chair.

"Mom? I'm home." The last ounce of hope escapes me in those three words. Then I notice the smell. It's terrible...and overwhelming... and suffocating. [Describe the smell].

My mom is dead.

The thought is a bull horn for the chain of appropriate reactions to follow, the ones appropriate for finding a dead body in your house. I begin to choke on the stench, and, after one massive wretch, I turn and puke all over the floor until there's nothing left in my stomach, standing on my hands and knees.

Then comes the tidal wave of all the teenage emotions on steroids. I stare at my lifeless mother in the murky vision of my new tears. And I let out the loudest, ear- splitting scream that wrecks my own ears as well as my throat.

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

Next thing I know, I'm straddling her, squeezing her shoulders, and heaving sobs into her bloodied blouse. These combinations of cries and screams come straight from my diaphragm. I can't stop myself. Part of me wishes that this is all one awful, horrifying nightmare. The other part of me, however,knows that this is all painfully, undeniably real. Time? What is that? I have a life? Since when? I have a father? Who is my brother? No, it's just me living through this tragic scene, soaking my mom in tears on top of the drying blood. I'm giving myself chest pains with my non- stop crying, and I breathe inconsistently, but I keep going, and I don't know what time is.

She's dead.

She's gone.

She won't wake up.

She'll never wake up.

I feel my body being lifted and carried away from her. Like an infant, I scream for her even as I'm turned away from her sight. I'm being carried outside and out onto our front lawn, where flashes red and blue lights bounce off our house.

Now I'm being set down on the grass, and the person who carried me out holds my face in his hands and has me look him in the eye. Vince. I do have a brother. He's telling me to look at him, but all I do is cry. Now he holds me close, and we both squeeze each other to the point of mild pain. I feel drops of warm liquid hitting me on the top of my head. He's crying too, but the sounds of my crying drown out any noise he's making. She was Vince's mom too. WAS. How can this world be real? A world without our mom? And so soon in our lives?

Finally I stop. It's not that I don't want to cry anymore; it's that I'm drained of the strength to continue. I cling to my older brother like glue. I won't let him leave. One tragic loss is enough for any family. I don't know if dad's here or not, and I'm terrified of being alone. The thought of becoming an orphan comes to mind, and I hold on to Vince tighter. My family can't separate! I need them!

"Vivian?"

I snap my head up at the sound of a smooth, female voice. It reminds me of my mom. She isn't dead?! Then my heart sinks again once I realize that it's a female paramedic. She asks me if I want to get cleaned up and put on some fresh clothes, but I respond by bursting into tears again. Vince says something to her, and next thing I know, Vince and I are walking side by side, following the paramedic.

Then the second worst thing happens. Three coroners push out my mom's body, now covered in a baby blue sheet, out on a mobile flatbed. I lose control all over again and cry into Vince's shirt. He cries as well. Neither of us know what time is, and as I cry non-stop, uncontrollably, unaware of my father arriving at the scene, I don't care to understand what time is again.

You don't need to be asleep to remember something as traumatic as that. I remember every emotion I felt during that moment, every word exchanged, every subtle change of the temperature that evening. And the smell of my mother's body still makes me nauseous, leading me back to the last time I saw her.

"You okay?" Marco asks me. He and I are sitting on a bench outside of Principal Raditch's office waiting to discuss Alex's future on the student body. Based on the school guidelines, she received a suspension for punching Queenie. Since Queenie didn't get a lick in, she didn't receive any type of penalty. This would cost a student council member her position, but Marco and I are trying to convince Raditch that Alex is a huge asset to the council (aside from her endearing personality). I have to admit, she is good at being vice; things get done under her command.

I sigh. "I'm hanging in there."

"Ah, Vivi-G., I need you to be more than just you hanging in there." Marco says to me.

I slouch in my seat. "I'll try, but really, Marco, it's just one of those days."

"What's up?" He asks gently.

I look at him. Marco is easily the most approachable person to talk to if you're having a tough time. All he knows about me is that I moved to Toronto to start a clean slate. Why not tell him the rest?

"Marco," I pause, "remember when I told you that my family moved here so that we could start over?"

"You never told me why exactly." He finishes.

Here goes nothing. "Well...I lost my mom over two years ago, and we decided earlier this year to accept the fact that she isn't coming back."

"Oh." Wide brown eyes of empathy stare back at me.

"We moved just recently because of the trauma her death had been causing me."

"I'm sorry about that, Vivian." Marco says. "Do you mind if I ask how she died?"

"Not at all." I take a deep breath. "Suicide. There was a gun..." I grab my legs and bite my lip. "Sorry, it still hurts when I talk about it."

"Hey, hey," Marco stands up with open arms. "C'mere."

I follow suit and wrap my arms around him, accepting the hug that he's offering.

"You'll get through this, Vivi-G." Marco says cheerily, giving me a tight squeeze and a gentle pat on the back. "Let me know if you ever need anything."

My heart swells. "Don't ever stop calling me Vivi-G." What a warm person.

"As you wish." Marco moves out of the hug. "I had no idea you were going through that."

"Well now you do." I smile. "And listen: I appreciate your concern, but I can still function normally and stay on top of everything."

"So I've seen." Marco says. "You're a strong gal. I hope you stay that way because I need a backbone to take on Raditch."

I smile. "I got you." I pat his shoulder. "Thanks for listening to me, Marco. That means a lot."

"No prob." He winks at me.

The door to Raditch's office opens, and out pops the man himself. "Marco. Vivian. I'm ready to see you now." He moves back inside, leaving his door open.

Marco faces me. "Game time." He says.

"Yep."

I follow him into Raditch's office for the second time this year. It's a secluded, peaceful place, a stark contrast from the ruckus of a hallway just outside.

"Feel free to sit." He indicates a set of chairs in front of his desk with a nod of his head.

In an uncomfortable silence, we do just that.

"Ms. Hatzilakos informed me that the two of you think that Alex should have her position back as Vice President on the Student Council. Correct?"

"Yes we do, sir." Marco replies. "Alex has contributed a lot to the student body. None of this stuff for Whack-Your-Brain would have never happened if she hadn't been on the council to get things done."

"Well that's already set in stone to happen this Friday." Raditch says. "Whatever else you need to get done shouldn't be much trouble if you appoint a new vice president."

"I beg to differ, sir, but Alex is the best candidate to fill that position." Marco argues.

"He's right." I chime in. "Alex is...a realist, and very assertive. She plans practically and is best at thinking of all of the details of an idea that other students forget about, including Marco." I'm surprised at how easy it is for me to pull out a compliment about Alex.

"I'm positive that the two of you will find someone else just as qualified, and more responsible at that, to replace her." Raditch replies.

"Mr. Raditch, we only have a few days until the quiz bowl, and that's the time it'll take us at least to replace Alex." I say.

"Really? You don't think you can replace her, Vivian?"

I freeze. "Um...I...haven't really thought about being vice." I say quietly.

"Obviously you're not Alex, but you're just as responsible as she is, and, considering that you two aren't suspended from breaking a serious rule, you show better moral character."

"Sir, I need Vivian as the secretary." Marco says. "Heather Sinclair dropped remember?"

"It should be less of a hassle to replace secretary then. Why not have Ms. Graham as your close partner?"

"I like my position, sir." I say.

"And being secretary is one of the most tedious positions on the entire board of executives." Marco adds. "Vivian has proved herself a thousand times over that she is best person for that position."

"Please, Mr. Raditch. We need to have Alex back. At least until the quiz bowl is over, and then we can replace her?" I say in a desperate attempt to shift the conversation away from myself.

I see Marco out of my peripheral staring at me, but I continue to face our principal. I was warned by Marco earlier about how hard it is to get through to him, and now I can see why: he's a brick wall. If he didn't listen to Alex and Marco earlier about Rick, and denied Rick any help about bullies, what's to say he'll be any different with us and Alex's predicament?

Mr. Raditch sits back in his chair. "The two of you seem to know your council really well. That means your positions were well chosen. Listen: I can't make any excuses for Alex for a rule that she had deliberately broken just because she can do the job, but, Vivian, you're right. I do imagine you have to cautiously select a well-qualified replacement, and-given our limited time frame-that isn't possible to do just now." He sits up straight again. "Alex has until next Monday to be Vice President, and in this next week, I suggest you start finding the second best person for the job."

I look at Marco, who looks like he wants to collapse. Did he just compromise with us? "Oh...sir, you have no idea how thankful we are for this. You won't be disappointed I promise."

"Thank you, Mr. Raditch." I say simply.

"You're welcome." He says firmly. "Is that all you wanted to see me for?"

"That was it." Marco replies.

"Well then, off you go." He stands from his chair. "Best of luck with the last minute preparations."

We follow suit. "Thank you." I say.

Raditch opens the door. "Come back if anything else comes up."

"Absolutely." Marco says as we exit.

As soon as Raditch closes the door, Marco smiles at me wide-eyed and open-mouthed. "You did it!" He cries in a whisper and hops up and down. "I don't know how you did it, but you are so going to be my negotiating buddy from now on."

I shove my hands in the pockets of my jogging pants. "It was just a suggestion. I didn't think he'd go with it."

"So we're just gonna go along with it." Marco sighs. "I did not expect for that to go so well, especially when I went with Alex to talk about Rick." He shakes his head. "Anyway, you rock, Vivi-G!"

I smile, relieved that he didn't linger on the Rick topic. "Think nothin' of it."

"Where are you headed right now?" He asks me.

"To Snake's class." I respond. "But I have some additional time to go to my locker first."

"Oh okay. I will meet up with you later then." Marco says. "Until then?"

"Yep." I reply. "See you later."

"See ya." Marco disappears in the restless crowd of students as we head into the lobby while I make my way to my locker in the grade 10 corridor. I've been so accustomed to the Canadian lingo that I don't even think about the word "sophomore" anymore. It's rather frightening.

As I fiddle with the combination on my locker, a familiar voice goes, "Hey, Vivian." A female voice.

I whip around and find Ivory standing behind me. As usual, she has a striking appearance with her strawberry blonde hair and her wide, bright green eyes. She's wearing a denim jacket with matching pants and a yellow t-shirt underneath.

I'm so stunned by her approach I mechanically return the "hey" she gave me. I turn around to fully face her.

"We kinda ended on a bad note last week," Ivory says, "and I wanna apologize for that."

She wants to do WHAT? "I agree. I wish we had at least resolved the disagreement we had."

"Me too." She says. "I had a bad history with Rick, and I took it out on you. It wasn't really fair of me."

"I really am sorry that you had to go through that." I say, "but I'm so glad you didn't end up like Terri at the same time."

"I know you are." Ivory says to me. "I keep forgetting that you have a big heart and that you always have good intentions. I guess part of me was blind-sided: I thought that being friends with Rick was a way of you trying to mock me somehow, like what he did before just isn't important anymore."

"What? No way!" I say. "I wouldn't even bother to hang out with him if that were the case! If he was still the same way, but he isn't."

"I can see that now." Ivory says. "So...are the two of you...?"

"Just friends." I finish. "After all: hardly anyone wants to associate themselves with Rick, let alone be his friend."

"Touche." Ivory says. "I'm really sorry, Vivian. Really."

"I know." I say. "I don't blame you really. How can I? I wasn't around before."

"Neither is the Rick I used to know, it seems." Ivory sighs.

"Hey: last I checked, that's a good thing." I say.

There's a brief pause between us as we look at each other awkwardly-until Ivory smiles at me. It's the most refreshing, reassuring smile that I have ever seen on her, let alone the fact that it's been been over a week since I've seen her smile last.

"You know, we ought to catch up with each other. There's a lot that's happened between now and when we stopped speaking to each other." I say, returning the smile.

"Agreed." Ivory says. "I'm listening all the way."

It gets easier as I go along. I tell one more friend about my mother and her death, which is a lot easier than I had anticipated. It's starting to feel like a weight is being lifted off my shoulders, and as I tell Ivory, I watch her wide green eyes fill with sorrow and sympathy.

"It's so terrible that you had to go through that. I had no idea that that was the reason why you're here..." Ivory fumbles with her words. "I feel like such an idiot."

"That's not necessary at all." I say. "The last thing I need right now is for anyone to feel guilty about my problems. This is not your fault."

Ivory nods. "Okay. I'm still sorry that it happened. That's...I can't imagine losing anyone like that. You had me fooled."

"That was the point." I say. "I didn't want anyone to know until I was ready to tell them."

"I wouldn't know what to do if I were you." My friend continues.

"Slowly and painfully, I'm beginning to accept what she did." I say. "For a long time I was in denial. I mean, it just didn't seem like her to kill herself. Regardless, the police investigated and confirmed it." I don't think I'll ever be able to erase finding my mom dead in her favorite chair. Ever.

"Look, Vivian, I need to go to class." Ivory says. "How about we meet up after school by the bus stop and head over to the Dot?"

I nod. "Great idea." Seriously: those milkshakes are just too delicious to pass up.

"Cool. I'll see you then for sure." Ivory walks faster ahead and disappears in the crowd of students.

"See ya." I call after her before making a beeline for the lockers myself. I was able to get out of gym class thanks to Marco and our student council duties, and I wish it bled into Snake's M.I. class since my assigned seating is next to Rick. Since Thursday, conversation between Rick and I has been excruciatingly painful as classes the following Friday proved. As I pull out my notebook for the class, I think of ways to pretend he's not there. We're so close that any conversation can transform into something uber-personal, and I don't want that "personal" to be what happened between us that Thursday afternoon. The one thing we don't share is Whack-Your-Brain: Rick is heavily involved with Degrassi's Trivia Team, and since his teammates are sticking around (except Heather Sinclair; I hardly ever see her at school), he has made some new friends, friends that I don't hang around as often as with Queenie, Ivory, and Manny.

Queenie! That confrontation with her and Alex also happened that Thursday. I'm in the middle of some crazy stuff. As if my own problems weren't enough already! I need to talk to her about what happened. Is there a smooth way to even bring up the fact that she was wearing a wig? Guess not.

As I slam my locker door, I look up as I feel something brush past me. My heart freezes as I see Rick heading in the direction of Snake's class. For the first time ever, it feels as if I'm actually attending Degrassi and not dreaming about it. It's going to be a long day.