XXVI. Long Live the Queen

Monday

4 Days until Whack-Your-Brain

17 October 2004

I saw her on my way to M.I. this morning.

The feeling's different; seeing her causes me pain; disappointment. Even a little bitterness. I don't dislike her, but when I think of what we could have been, what we had the potential to be, there's a baseball bat bashing my heart in. But I have things to do. I can't let this affect me. Whack-Your-Brain is Friday, so I need to focus on that.

I alternate my eyes between the computer screen and my notebook, and I don't dare let my eyes stray to the right. Every now and again I see her out of my peripheral vision glancing at me, as if she wants to talk to me, but she doesn't call my name or tap my shoulder to do so. Is she hesitant to talk to me as well? Mr. Simpson assigned seating based on where we sat the first week of classes (when I wasn't here), and the only seat that was open when I arrived was the one next to Vivian. It feels like that time again: when I was in the class for the first time and sitting next to the new girl, who didn't know about me at all, we just sat in silence. I kept my head held down to avoid any dirty looks from classmates who weren't happy to see me. She was included. I didn't know her, and I couldn't remember seeing her in previous years, but I wasn't going to take any chances of making a new enemy, so I avoided her gaze.

Now, however, the circumstances are drastically different. I know Vivian all too well-better than I would have ever imagined, but now we've sort of ended on a dull note, and conversation since then has been difficult for the both of us. The results? We've drifted a part this past weekend. I haven't called her to check up on her concussion the way I have been all last week. A week. Our connection grew strong since last Monday when I nearly had a stroke over Vivian falling into that well; thinking that she was dead; rejoicing when I found out she was okay; and holding her later that evening while she slept. In a week my yearning for a relationship with her yawned across the horizon. In a week, I learned something horrible about Vivian's past. In a week, Vivian was willing to go there with me, but then retreated into herself. Succumbed herself to doubt and distrust. In a week, in just one week, she went from accepting me to fearing me-like everyone else at this stupid school.

"Rick."

I look up at the sound of Simpson's voice. "Sir?"

"Partner up with someone. Or two. We're assigning presentation groups."

I nod. I look around and notice everyone gathering in groups of two or three. Vivian has disappeared; her seat is empty beside me, and I look up to see her teaming up with Ivory. The only one missing from that group is Terri.

"Rick. Teammates?"

I look behind me to see Toby Isaacs. It's a comfort having him around, and I smile back. "Yeah. A third person?"

"Hey." Emma walks over to Toby. "I guess there's three of us?" She nods in my direction.

"Looks like it." Toby responds.

"Okay then. Let's work over here." I follow Toby and Emma to an open table, free of any computers and hard drives.

"We're getting used to each other's company, it seems." I say.

Emma looks in my direction. "You could say that. It's become the norm basically."

I would have denied such a thing just over a month ago. Emma was the driving force of the tidal wave of hatred that I'm still suffering from. The important thing is that she's no longer apart of it. No, more than that: she's actually on my side. My side. The only person who was nice to me from the beginning was Vivian...

Dammit! I need to stop thinking about her! I shake my head.

"You okay, man?" Toby looks at me with one of his dark eyebrows arched.

"Yeah. Just had a thought." I reply.

"Hey guys," Emma looks up from her notebook, "I think we should stay after school everyday to prepare ourselves for the finals on Friday."

"Good point." Toby says. "I still can't get all of those geography questions. There's so many!"

"Yeah, those answers can get jumbled in your head." I add.

Toby scoffs. "Please. You know them better than any of us."

"He knows all of the categories best." Emma says.

I chuckle. "Just trying to make you feel better about it." Although they're both right: I'm solid for the most part. Bet no one has ever read so much because they hardly have anyone to talk to.

"So after school then?" Emma says.

"Definitely." Toby replies.

"Sure." I say.

"How many of us wanna bet that Heather Sinclair won't be there?" Toby says.

"Miss all of the meetings?" Emma asks.

"Ah, she might make it to at least one." I say.

"How are you so certain about that?" Toby says.

"I'm not." I say, "but sometimes Heather can surprise you."

Both Toby and Emma laugh at this. I don't think I've ever seen Emma laugh ever, let alone having me being the reason that she's laughing. I start to smile. Maybe Degrassi won't be so bad now.

There was a time when I was utterly terrified of my three main nemeses at Degrassi, times when I could feel my stomach lodged in my throat. It was like I was at home alone with my father and terrified with what he was going to do to me. Honestly there were times when I thought that man would kill me. Jay, Jimmy and Spinner (especially Jay) gave me that same terror. Somehow I've gotten used to it, and it only turned into misery. Although I've rehearsed myself to be calm around them, told myself that they were just stupid kids and too afraid to go to real prison to do anything severe to me, it's still a horrible feeling. Every time I think I see any of them, I immediately change my route to avoid even eye-contact. Even if I realize that it was a mistaken identity at the last second, I still follow through with the detour. The humiliation and pain isn't worth it. I'm not taking any chances.

I've grown used to them now. In some twisted way, it's not a normal day if I'm not running away from them, if I either don't see them or don't have a violent encounter with one of the three. Jimmy gives me threatening looks and occasionally bumps into my shoulder; Spinner likes to yell taunts at me in the halls, which always triggers a giggle out of at least a couple of students; and Jay does all of the above. Maybe my avoiding them is seen as cowardly, but when there are times when I just can't escape the torment (Spinner and Jay take it upon themselves to "escort" me to class, crowding either side of me), I remain as calm as possible.

Today I'm reminded of them as I reach my locker. One of them left me a taped-on note:

Stop stalking girls psycho.

Idiot didn't even put a comma between "girls" and "psycho". Sighing angrily, I rip the note from my locker and throw it on the floor. A new storm of fury is brewing within me. It's not enough that they push me around. Now they go out of their way to write notes and hang them on my locker? They took the time to find out where my locker is? Now I can no longer get my books in a calm state-of-mind. Wherever I go, they follow. They won't stop their little war unless I leave. They take for granted that I'm the guy who won't retaliate because it'll backfire on my reputation that I'm working hard to reconstruct.

Nothing's changing with them. The thought lingers as I take my supplies from my locker. Something has to be done. I can prove all I want that I'm a decent guy, but they'll never see it. They don't want to see it. They don't care to see it.

Bastards think they can get away with anything just because this school is against me. That's going to change. Real soon. I've learned a thing or two from my merciless father. I know how to be ruthless. Being the impartial guy has only gotten me into this mess, and now I need to climb out of it. Rick Murray can bite when he wants to.

Now who could have written this? I hold the note in my hand as I go to my pre-calculus class. I would put all of my eggs in one basket and gamble on Jay Hogart. I have never hated a guy so much like this one. He's just sick. He has no soul, and doesn't give a damn, yet people give me a hard time trying to make a comeback. Degrassi's morals are seriously twisted. And what he tried to do to Vivian...that son-of-a-bitch. Everyone thinks I'm the bad guy? Yeah, I was pretty sick and angry once-upon-a-time, but I have never, ever, tried to force myself onto anyone. It doesn't even matter anymore; Jay has proved himself over and over that he's my least favorite person. It doesn't matter if he actually wrote it; it's high time he pay the price for messing with me over and over again. And the ones I care about, for that matter.

"Hey. Rick."

I recognize this voice, but barely. As I turn to my right, I spot Queenie, Vivian's friend, approaching. She's wearing a blue winter hat with pink hearts on it, covering her hairless head. Shockingly the look suits her.

"Hey." I say. "Looking for Vivian?"

"I was looking for you actually." She replies. "I need to talk to you."

What for? "Uh...right now? I have a class to get to."

"No shit, Sherlock." She says. "I do too. Your Pre-calculus class is in the same hallway as my algebra class. Now let's get going. Ever heard of multi-tasking?"

"Um, okay." Side by side, Queenie and I walk to the math hallway. "Everything okay? That thing that happened Thursday..."

"Yeah that was kind of what I wanted to talk about." She replies.

"W-with me? Don't you usually talk to Vivian about these things?"

"Do you tell the people you care about everything you're going through, or are there secrets about you that they don't know?"

She has my attention now. And my curiosity. "What is it?"

"It's about the situation regarding my hair." She replies. "In case you haven't noticed already, I'm bald. Recently I decided to shave my head."

"How recent was this?"

"About a month ago."

"A month?" That means that sometime between when I came back and throughout all of the protesting that went on, she actually had hair on her head and not a wig that looked like it. "Why did you do it? Or to be specific, why cover it up if you were going to do it?"

She faces me. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay then. So...", Queenie glances around as if she's afraid of someone else approaching us. Try being me for a day. "the truth is that I'm...I-I'm sick."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...", she hesitates, "I don't have a lot of time to live." She lowers her voice so significantly that if I back away just an inch, I wouldn't be able to hear her. She suddenly stops walking, and I do too. "I've... had cancer for a while now, and since I was diagnosed with it, I've been told by doctors that it's way too late to...to do anything about it. Except receive medication for it to be less painful."

There's a somber look on her face that I've never seen before. It isn't the Queenie I'm used to seeing. She's usually chipper about something, anything, and to see her like this...scowling, sorrowful...it's making my blood run cold.

I let the words sink in for a few seconds. "I'm so sorry." I say at last. "I had no idea you were ill. Do you need anything? Anything at all?"

"My god, Rick, it's not like I just found this out today. I'm fine like I always am!" Queenie chuckles, regaining her usual, cheerful composure again. "But thanks though."

"When did you learn that you were..." I stop speaking. It's hard to swallow that a classmate of mine is slowly dying. She had never given anything away to let anyone know that she was going through this the entire time.

"I found out over the summer right after the last school year." She replies. "My family and I, as a result, went on several vacation trips these past three months. Sure it was all so fun and adventurous and beautiful, but the fact that my family is never the type to spend that much bonding time with each other made it feel so weird. Obviously they're trying to make the most of my time before I eventually... die from this, but still..." She shakes her head.

I had never seen someone so easily talk about their death in the near future. She must be used to living with the news. How in the world is she able to stay so cheerful and keep something like that hidden from everyone else? My life may be crappy, but at least I have a long life to live. At least I will be able to graduate high school and make it to college and get away from this home-school-double-hell I live through everyday. But Queenie? Poor Queenie.

"I'm waiting on you to ask the most obvious question." She says.

"What?"

"Oh, don't play dumb: you wanna ask how long I have to live." She continues. "Well I'll tell you just to get it over with." Again another pause. This time it's longer. It almost reminds me of Vivian before she broke down in my car last Thursday. "The doctors say that I'm lucky if I get to see Christmas."

The blood is ice streaming through my veins. This Christmas is a miracle for her to see? All of this is news to me. That means that everyday she comes to school is a lucky day for her and her family. Lucky for her friends that get to see her.

"Queenie..." I say. "I'm sorry."

"You already said that." She replies. "Plus, you have no reason to be sorry. You didn't do anything to cause this."

"Well neither did you." I chuckle uncomfortably. "Queenie, I don't understand how you're not devastated over this."

"Uh...Rick, you do know that I had the whole summer to live with this, right?" We walk over to the doorway of my pre-calculus class. "Don't you need to get to class?"

"Forget class right now. What about you? Is there anything else you want to tell me about?"

"Yeah. There's something else."

"What is it?"

"Your reaction to my news is more difficult to handle than my knowledge of dying in a few months."

I squint at her. "What?"

"I'm serious!" She says while laughing. "I would have never thought you were capable of being so sweet and empathetic just last year. Geez, you are different."

"You had doubts?" I ask. "Then again, you'd be like everyone else."

"Honestly, yeah." She replies. "I mean Vivian would mention you in a conversation once in a while about how sweet you were, but I thought she was just being naive because she was new." She looks at me and sighs. "You should hear how she talks about you sometimes. She was saying things that would have never come out of my mouth. I remember your arrogant ass in theater class last year." She laughs at this. "But seeing your concern now makes me believe it more."

I roll my eyes. "So you haven't told her?"

She shakes her head. "You know she's already grieving right now? How could I add this on top of all of that pain she's already going through? I still don't know what I'm going to do...how I'm going to tell her about this..."

Her voice quivers at the end, and I look up to see her wiping a tear away from her eye. I stare uncomfortably. This is strange seeing a bubbly girl appear so devastated. "Dammit! I've been so good at not crying about this until now. I hate seeing her upset about anything. You know best where I'm coming from, right?"

I nod slowly. "I do."

"Good." She says. "I need your help in covering for me. Please, Rick: whatever you do, do NOT tell Vivian the truth if she just happens to ask you what's up with me!"

"Okay: I won't." I say. "But why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're way too smart for me to lie to. I knew that even if I did tell you a lie, you would suspect otherwise, and probably tell Vivian about the doubts you have. I can't risk that."

"Should I take that as a compliment?" I smirk.

"Shut up." Queenie playfully punches me in the arm. "So if Vivian asks you about me, you tell her that I lost a bet and had to shave my head, and I regretted the bald look, so I wore a wig to cover it up."

"Sure." I say. "What bet?"

"A bet that I had with my sister." She replies. "It was on a high school basketball game out of town. I bet on a team, and she bet on another team, and she won." She glares at me. "Got it?"

"Got it." I reply.

"Good." She smiles for the first time during the conversation. "Thanks a lot, Rick. You have no idea how much this means to me." She moves in for a hug, throwing me off-guard, but I hug her back anyway. "Would you have been able to predict this last year?"

"Nope." We let go. "We were two different people."

"We still are," Queenie replies, "but we share a common friend. I can't imagine anyone else who has been as sweet and wonderful as Vivian has."

My heart sinks at the mention of Vivian. Me neither.

"Okay: be gone." She shoos me away. "Don't be late for class. I don't need you anymore. Just remember what to say to Vivian in case she asks."

"I will." I wave at her. "Until we meet again?"

"Enjoy my presence while you still can." Queenie turns and walks into the neighboring classroom.

Her words strike a chord, and suddenly I'm cold inside. Just now I'm beginning to feel the weight of this secret, and how important it is to keep it.

Oh well. It's not like I don't have my own secrets. I have yet to confide in anyone.