Let me apologize for this: one of my flaws in writing is taking too much time unraveling the plot. Also installing several months apart, but you know this already:) Dialogue from the series is used here. I'm a disclaimer as usual.
XXXV. The Turning Point
WHACK-YOUR-BRAIN FINALS DAY
Four hours earlier…
Rick Murray
"I don't usually tell you how proud I am of you for achieving high academics. How you're sophisticated for someone your age. I expect you to bring home that trophy home Friday from Whack-Your-Brain."
As I button up the white shirt of my father's suit, I replay the words he told me right before he left for work Thursday night, catching a private jet to New York. How right you are, father. I will bring back that trophy. He hasn't been that sincere with a praise in a long time.
Now for the tie. I take the long tie, one that's a geometric collage of burgundy, blue and white triangles, off of my desk and tie it around the collar of the shirt. Since my dad always wears suits, I learned how to arrange a tie at a young age.
"Ricky! Come down here. I have the blazer to your suit!" My mother calls me from downstairs.
"Coming!" I walk over to the mirror hanging on the back of my bedroom door and look at myself.
Not bad. I think. The suit is a couple of sizes too big, but I'm positive that I'll grow into it by next year. Five feet and six inches, the current height that I am*, is not the height I want to be for the rest of my life. Is it possible for me to grow just a few more inches?
I move down the stairs at a leisurely pace and find Mother beaming at me as I enter the living room. "Ohh! My handsome son!" She cries gleefully. "You wear your father's suit so well!"
"Funny you say that as I trip over the pants legs." I chuckle.
"Nothing a little homemade tailoring won't fix." Mother lifts up her sewing machine, detached from its base so she can sew up clothes while they're being worn. "Oh, sweetie, fix your tie. It's a little loose. Uhh, no never mind, I'll get it for you."
Mother makes a fuss over me as she quickly walks over to adjust the tie around my shirt, tightening it slightly and evening out the length of the ends of it that hang down at my upper torso. "I could've done that." I mutter.
"I know, Ricky, I'm just watching the time is all." Mother replies gently. "Now stand on that stool so I can fix your pants."
I follow her instructions as she holds the silver sewing machine. "Alright. Stand still." She folds up my left pants leg along my ankles making my deep, brown, leather dress shoes visible. "How's that length?"
"Perfect." I reply. "By the way, Toby should be stopping by in a few minutes."
"Right. I haven't forgotten." Mother winks at me.
The machine makes a constant rugged sound as if it's a car engine struggling to start, the only difference being the soft volume. Mother's suit-tailoring practicing reminds me of when I was a small child and would watch as she would do the exact same thing to my father.
He wasn't as violent in those days—physically anyway. I even recall him smiling warmly over at me when he caught me in the doorway that divided the dining room from the living room. "Hey, son! Come on over and let daddy show you how to tie a tie!" That was when I would run eagerly over to him, and he would pick me up while we both fiddled and tugged at the tie he was wearing. The good old days. Oh, well. No point in reminiscing what will never be again.
"Ricky? You okay?" Mother asks me.
My mind jolts back to the present. "Yeah. Just thinking."
"What about, dear?"
"Ah, just the competition and what not. It's finally here." I don't want to bring up the subject of father by any means necessary.
"What about those terrible classmates of yours?"
I look down at her. "What about them?"
"The one that broke your glasses. Has he bothered you again?"
"Mother, you keep asking me this." I sigh. "That was a month ago. Nothing has happened since." If keeping my mother naive means I have to be a pathological liar, then so be it. I don't need her to worry about me every second I'm out of her sight, whether it's Degrassi or home.
"In fact," I continue, "I just made two new friends thanks to Whack-Your-Brain: Jimmy and Emma."
"Really?" Mother sounds pleasantly surprised. "That's good to hear, Rick!" She pauses her process to smile up at me. "Very good to hear! Oh, you've proved me wrong. Everyday I imagine those kids being so cruel to you and shoving you into lockers all the time like a human coat."
"Don't be ridiculous, mother." I say, "no one has ever done that to me since I came back." They prefer to push me against the lockers. Not the same thing.
"I'm much more relieved after hearing this than I have been all of the past month." Mother sighs as she continues to fix up my suit.
"Good." I reply.
The next few minutes I silently watch my mom move to the next pants leg and fold it inward to match the same length as the former. Once again she works her sewing magic before she stands up, no longer kneeling before me.
"All set." She says and moves up to tuck in my shirt. "A year from now, you'll be same size as your father."
I bite my lip. So much for not bringing him up. "I don't want a sales job." I mutter. "I'd never want any job." I step down from the stool and air out my shirt, grabbing the collar.
"He doesn't like being sent out of town, Ricky." Mother replies to my bitter retort.
The door bell rings before she finishes her entire sentence, and I do somersaults in my mind. What a sweet release that was.
Vivian Graham
I continuously rub my temples in a hopeless attempt to quell my throbbing headache. It's been almost two weeks since I fell into that stupid well and hit my head, but the concussion I acquired that day is relentless. Just when I had a feast of a breakfast this morning to swallow some Advil, I realized that we were completely out of the pills, and since my dad was running behind for work, he didn't have time to stop by the drug store to pick some up.
So now I sit on the stairs outside of the school gym, holding a checklist for the student council kids as they come in early yet again to work with the Whack-Your-Brain camera crew to set everything up. Also with us this morning is Ms. Hatzilakos, our advisor for student council. Speaking of which, I notice her across the lobby walking towards me. She's wearing the light blue, stuco t-shirt, the same one that Marco and I distributed to the other members yesterday. I'm wearing my shirt with black Adidas jogging pants and white Reebok sneakers.
Anyway, I notice Ms. Hatzilakos holding my red backpack in her left hand as she approaches me. "Marco says you left this behind." She hands my backpack to me.
"Thanks." I take it from her.
"Also Marco wanted me to let you know if you're feeling up to it to meet him outside by the t.v. channel vehicle."
"I will. Can you tell him that I'll be out after I go to the restroom?"
"Definitely." Ms. Hatzilakos turns back around. "I'll see you outside." She walks back in the direction she came, her blonde hair flying behind her.
Now he said to look in the front pocket…
Hastily I unzip the smallest pocket in the middle of my bag, dig down inside and pull out a box of Advil. You're my hero, Marco. I smile at myself. I told him about my headache, and he went out of his way to drive down to the drug store to pick some up. It's against the school rules, unfortunately, to "distribute drugs to students" at Degrassi (stupid), but Marco was feeling generous.
Alright. Now I'll be good to go. Show time!
Rick Murray
"What was all that you told your mom?" Toby questions me as we walk to Degrassi on a sunny Friday morning. Although we're midway through October, the forecast is supposed to consist of an unseasonably warm midday. Of all of the days of a relatively cool month, the forces of nature wait until I decide to wear a suit to warm back up before the cold sets in for good. This is my luck in a nutshell.
"The truth, Toby." I address my friend's question. "Well, even if we aren't now, I see a lot of potential for a strong friendship in the future."
"With Jimmy?"
"Ah, you still doubt me." I reply. "Yes. Jimmy."
"Maybe he's being nice to you because you need each other." Toby suggests rather dryly.
"My dear Watson, oh ye have little faith."
Toby laughs at this. "I can't believe you referenced two different sayings in one phrase!"
"Toby, you're that surprised?" I squint at him. "I'm a patron of the arts. You're already aware of this."
Degrassi emerges up ahead as we walk toward the building from the left. From this distance, even through the rays of the sun, I can make out a slender silhouette with fair hair walking up the steps.
Emma. A weird tingling sensation ripples throughout my system. She's wearing a forest green skirt today, and it reveals her beautifully tanned, well-toned legs dare I admit.
"Hey!" Something in my conscious is driving me to call out to her.
To my fortune she heard my voice, and she casts her head around, her blonde hair whipping gracefully behind her back in the process. She stands patiently stationary as I dash up to her, leaving Toby behind. "My, uh...my thoughts are on sale today. Two for a penny: you can pay me later." I say to her in the midst of catching my breath.
"Okay." She says, her tone of voice indicating that she's ready to listen.
This is something I've been wanting to get off of my chest for a while now. I hang my head low, choosing my words carefully before speaking. "Thank you for...talking to me." I lift my head up. "You know, about Jimmy."
Emma nods understandably after I say this. Something I knew she would be.
This fuels my confidence even more. "When you speak, I listen. You're my guide."
Emma looks at me with a calm, yet sincere gaze. Finally she smiles at me. "Well I'm glad things worked out." She tells me. "I knew you'd make friends." She holds her smile before turning and walking into the school.
I smile in relief after her. This is another sign of Emma caring about me. She expressed with a warmth in her voice, something that I've never heard before, how happy she is for me standing up for myself and befriending a former nemesis.
Before going inside, I take a second to gather my surroundings. There's the local Toronto news van parked beside the sidewalk with men and women crowded around it, lifting podiums from out of the vehicle. Along with them are Degrassi students in light blue t-shirts either assisting in the process or conversing with the news staff. By their frowning faces and occasional nodding that I can barely make out thanks to the sun, I conclude that they're discussing strictly business items.
Wow. The day is finally here. I think to myself. Finally I can show everyone who Rick Murray really is. All of the endurance of day-to-day blows I've suffered from my classmates, the abundance of times I've been blown off by my teachers, will be well worth it after I've won Whack-Your-Brain for Degrassi. I will win: I have no doubt in my mind. I've poured my entire soul into making this moment victorious for me, the team, Mr. Simpson, the entire school. This tournament is mine. No one can steal this moment from me.
Once I step into the main lobby indoors, the hectic environment of students and staff moving podiums is almost a carbon copy of the scene outside. This day is affecting everyone. Also inside as I near the main entrance to the gymnasium is Jimmy Brooks. I observe that he's in casual dress with his standard sports jersey and blue jeans. He looks drawn into himself, a Jimmy that I'm not accustomed to seeing. Am I the only person on the team taking the finals seriously?
I take a risk and decide to approach him. This is the ultimate test to see if he's putting up a front to please his peers or if he is really fond of me. Although there are several people around, no one will notice if he decides to harass me again: verbally or physically. Pick one. "Hi, Jimmy."
I cringe, anticipating a blow to the face. An insult. Something that'll sink my spirits before we go on stage in half an hour.
"Hey, Rick." Jimmy looks down at me (man this kid is tall!). My presence seems to draw him out of his thoughts, and he appears calm as he greets me. There's a first time for everything I suppose.
I want this to work. I really want this friendship to work. "So...you, uh, nervous?" I ask him.
"Uh...no." He replies, his tone of voice light and sincere. Not cold. Not sarcastic. Not dry.
"Oh." I say. The answer to my previous question: yes. I am the only one taking this heavily.
Then Jimmy relents. "Yeah. Yeah I am nervous." He chuckles at this.
I also chuckle upon this sudden admittance. "Well don't worry. Together we'll lead the team to...new heights if we dream."
Jimmy nods at this. "Okay." He says to me, patting my arm before disappearing up into the gym. In the same second he walks into the gym, Vivian walks out.
Suddenly my feet are bolted to the floor, and my cheerful spirits come crashing down. Oh how the tables have turned.
Upon noticing me, Vivian slows down and stops directly in front of me. Like other students I saw before, she's also wearing a light blue t-shirt. "Nice suit." She says to me.
"Thanks." I reply.
"So today's finally here, huh?"
"Yeah." I glance at the students passing by me in the hall.
"You ready?"
"Yeah. I think so." I nod at Vivian.
"Finally. Not a one word response." Vivian smirks at this.
Partly stunned, I smile faintly at her. "Uh, my teammates are probably waiting for me inside."
"Oh, of course." Vivian stands aside. "By all means, don't let me stop you."
I nod as I begin moving up the steps.
"Oh and Rick?" Vivian calls from behind.
"Yeah?" I whip my head around.
She smiles at me. "Knock 'em dead."
I nod. "That's the plan." I turn and head into the gym. This will be a day that will go down in Degrassi history.
Vivian Graham
"Hun, tell your boyfriend that Raditch wants his suit back." Paige walks up on my left shoulder.
I turn to face her. "He's not my boyfriend, and feel free to forward the message yourself."
"Whoa! What could possibly be eating away at young Vivian?" Paige continues to taunt.
I can't help but laugh. "I can be uptight when I wanna be. You tell me: between a stubborn concussion and stupid rumors going around about me dating Rick, how would I be right now?"
"You've haven't thrown up yet? What's your secret?" Paige gawks at me.
"When I figure it out, I'll let you know." I look down at the attendance list I have attached to the clipboard. "If you'll excuse me, I need to find Alex and hand in the attendance sheet as usual."
A soft gasps escapes Paige's throat. "Oh...you too, huh? Listen, hun," she puts a hand on my shoulder, "if you need anyone to vent to about the pains and frustrations of working with Alex, give me a ring." Her voice is filled with theatrical drama. "I know what you're going through."
I chuckle, bewildered. "Um...thanks."
She winks before walking off. Oddly enough, Paige's humor has been the highlight of my day, which, so far, has been a morning of complete zen. Now where is Alex?
I dig into the pocket of my jogging pants and pull out a small, black walkie-talkie. The three of us—Marco, Alex and I—each have one for communication purposes. We're not allowed to use our cell phones, obviously, so the Toronto district distributed some spare walkie-talkies that they had, free of charge to the school including the council.
"Alex, what's your location? Over." Marco and other Degrassi staff equipped with a walkie-talkie can hear all of our exchanges, so we have to save the sarcastic retorts for another time.
"At the attendance desk. Over." Alex responds.
"Copy that." I don't know why we speak in this format like we're in the military, but all of us just roll with it. I walk the short distance to the other side of the lobby where Alex is standing where she said she would. Of everyone on the entire council, Alex is the only one not wearing the stuco t-shirt: that's understandable since she won't be apart of it any longer, but I guess she thinks a white tank top is the closest thing to blue.
I do the standard detaching of the paper from my clipboard and hand it over to Alex. "Here you go." I say
She takes the list, no words, and unzips her back pack, consisting of a single cross-strap, and hands me a bundle of papers. "Do me a favor and take these back. Don't have any use for them after I'm done checking them."
I shrug and put the crinkled papers inside of the case of my clip board. "Anything else?"
"Be gone, Thumbelina. I'm sure you have your hands tied with other things. If not, then I do." She turns and walks in the opposite direction. Believe or not, Alex is being nice today, and for the life of me I can't figure out why.
The sound of nearby feet shuffling catches my attention, and I cast my head in the opposite direction to find Spinner carrying his black book bag as if there's bricks in it or something. I squint at him as he approaches me.
"If you can't carry whatever's in that bag, I'm pretty sure I won't be able to either." I tell him.
"You'd think I'd ask you to lift anything?" Spinner smirks that sinister grin I'm so used to seeing. "You can't even hold that clipboard straight."
I laugh in disbelief. "Believe what you want, but all I'll do is this." I place the clipboard that I'm not "holding straight" on the attendance desk before snatching the book bag out of Spinner's arms. "See? I can hold this better than you." I hug the incredibly heavy bag in front of my chest and pretend it doesn't strain me at all.
"Sure you can." A sarcastic Spinner says. "Now seriously: I need that back. I'm meeting a group of people somewhere, and I thought they said by the attendance office." He holds his hands out, and I—reluctantly—hand the bag over to him.
"What the heck is in that thing? A lawn mower?" I ask. "And who are you supposed to be meeting with anyway? The only person I saw here was Alex."
"What? Seriously? Where did she go?" Spinner's eyes grow wide.
Bingo. "She went down that way." I point in the direction behind the attendance desk. "I'm assuming that what you're meeting about has to do with whatever's in there." I indicate the bag with a nod of my head.
"Very observant, Vivian."
"Wow, that's a big word, Gavin."
I finally get him to scowl. "Thanks." He says dryly.
"Just tell me one thing." I block his path as he tries to move around me.
"You're really getting on my nerves, Vivian."
"Good! Now you know how it feels. Just tell me what's in the bag, and I'll let you leave." I order. "I don't need to see it."
"Did you fall on your head?"
"I did actually. About two weeks ago." I'm trying his patience right now. "But that's not relevant. Sorry. I just need to know if you're up to no good or not."
"You think I'd tell you something like that?" Spinner asks incredulously.
"Of course not, but if you don't say anything right now, I'm reporting back to Ms. Hatzilakos that you're up to no good anyway." I tell him.
"No you wouldn't."
"I won't if you tell me."
"Alright! Fine! It's a large bottle of acid. I'm planning on dousing the whole audience in the gym with it! That trouble enough for you?"
I gasp and snatch the bag away from Spinner, but he snatches it back, laughing his ass off in the process. "Do you honestly think that I'm psycho like your boyfriend?"
Now Spinner's trying my patience. "Rick is not my boyfriend." I grit my teeth.
He suddenly unzips his bag and lifts out a giant, white jug, similar to what laundry bleach is contained in, and unscrews the lid. "Paint." He dips his index finger inside of the container and lifts it out again, which is now covered in a gooey, butter-yellow substance. "See? Not acid. My old art teacher was low on yellow paint, and I told him that I'd bring him some from home."
"And you're meeting up with Alex because..." I, Nancy Drew, always have to be inquisitive. It's in my nature.
"Because Alex has the keys to his supply closet where this goes." Spinner puts the lid back on the jug.
"Stay out of this, Thumbelina. You're worse than Cause Girl." I flinch slightly as Alex comes up from behind me. "You and her both think you can run this school with your holier-than-now attitudes."
I turn to face her. "I was talking to Spinner, Alex." I say as evenly as possible, fighting against the anger boiling in my gut.
"Are you supposed to scare me?" Alex crosses her arms.
"I could ask you the same thing." I follow suit. "Listen to me, Alex: what do you have against me? If I did something to offend you, now would be the time to say so."
"Don't you dare tell me what I should and shouldn't do." Alex inches closer to me, a typical intimidation tactic.
"In order to get respect, Alex, you need to give it." The anger seeps out of my voice as I feel my entire body trembling.
"I don't owe you shit with that attitude." Alex lowers her voice.
"Attitude reflects leadership, Vice President." I mirror her tone.
"Uhh, can we go?" Spinner sounds agitated standing behind me. He says this as the warning bell rings.
"Oh! Sorry." I say while looking straight at Alex. "Don't want to keep the teacher worrying about his paint after all."
For a millisecond, I catch Alex's dark eyes widen slightly while she glares at me. It was a momentary look of fear, one I will always recognize after looking at Mrs. Murray, but she continues to glare at me as if I had imagined that brief change. "Let's go, Gavin." She doesn't peel her eyes away from me until Spinner walks past us. Then she finally turns her back and follows him.
I place a hand over my heart. Whack-Your-Brain hasn't even started yet, and I already want this day to be over. What's gotten into me? I'm never this confrontational.
Or am I? I've been sticking my neck out for Rick ever since I've been at Degrassi, which hasn't even been two months yet, and that's equivalent to social suicide. Yet I still have really good friends that I felt like I've known my entire life, so I'm not impacted by the torment that my friend had to go through before he got to this point. Still: today I decide to mess with Spinner and Alex all because I'm not fond of either of them and accuse Spinner of being up to no good. Yeah, Vivian, maybe you should sit down somewhere. Don't worry about them. You have other responsibilities.
"Vivian, are you assigned to sit in the gym? Over." It's Ms. Hatzilakos.
"I'll be right there. Over." I reply.
Just paint being delivered to the art teacher. Nothing suspicious about that.
Rick Murray
Slowly but surely, students begin filling up the rows of seats that have been set up in the gym. Every now and again I glance behind me to watch my energetic group of peers multiply like a swarm of bees. The team and I are sitting in the front most row of chairs and awaiting the crew to direct us onto the stage behind our designated podiums. I'm staring right at mine's, positioned between Jimmy's and Emma's.
"Waiting's always the worst part." Mr. Simpson tells the four of us, speaking in a voice a bit louder than a whisper. "The time seems longer." He paces in front of us.
I'll say. I tap my right foot vigorously. It feels like I'm the only one most concerned about the finals happening in ten minutes. Thank goodness my mother urged me to put on antiperspirant deodorant, or I would have ruined my father's suit in no time. He'd never let me hear the end of it.
"Alright, guys, let's board the stage." The director, a short woman, instructs us.
"Game time!" Simpson calls after us. The Northern High students assume their positions as well.
As we stand behind our podiums, I get a glimpse of the one called Mick as he stands amongst his teammates on the other side of the other side of the stage. Simpson keeps telling me that he's my biggest competition, and that he'll make me work for the win. Ha. He won't win though.
I look at my classmates on either shoulder: Jimmy on the left; Emma on the right. In the past, neither one of them wanted anything to do with me, and yet here we are representing Degrassi together as a team. Emma smiles at me once I look in her direction, and I immediately smile back. This is going to be good.
"Alright, guys!" The director raises her voice above the crowded gym. "We're going on in five minutes! On one down from four! I'm gonna do this: four; three. On two I point at the camera crew, on one I point at Joe, as we'll be on air then. Then I'll cue everyone in the audience to clap with this clapping gesture." She claps her hands silently. "You'll here the game show theme music, and Joe will introduce the contestants. Everybody clear?" She holds her thumb up the the audience, at the camera man, then back at us on the stage. "Alright. We'll be going on in two!"
Minutes? I look out at the audience and finally feel the weight of my nerves hit me all at once. Do or die time. Now the game show host, Joe, has joined us from behind stage and walks over to the Northern high contestants, shaking each of their hands and exchanging brief words with the four of them. He's a black man of average height with a cleanly-shaven head dressed in a khaki blazer and black pants. Finally. I'm not the only one wearing a suit.
He heads over our way and shakes hands with Jimmy first. "Good luck." He says to him. The same is repeated with me and the rest of us.
"Alright, guys! I need silence!" The director belts with her strong voice. "You guys on stage, look out into the audience, or look at Joe. Don't look at each other. Alright?"
The Degrassi Party nods simultaneously.
"Okay!" She announces. The entire gym falls dead silent; Simpson gives us a thumbs up as he sits in the very front row.
Here we go. I'm about to make history.
"Four! Three!" She points at the camera, back at Joe, and the game show music thunders throughout the room. The audience erupts into life with reverberatory clapping.
Joe's voice makes everything official. "Good morning, folks, and welcome to the world's favorite quiz show! We are back to attack your cranium and—"
"—Whack! Your! Brain!" All of us on stage declare, as was rehearsed the day before with Simpson.
"We got 'cha boy Joe and we got a good game for you today: Northern High is getting ready to go up against Degrassi C.S. Both of these teams are ready. Let's not waste anymore time. Hands on buzzers: here we go."
My life's about to change. For good.
*: I'm not sure if they use feet and inches in Canada the way we do in the U.S. Spoiler (not, lol)! I'm not from Canada! XD