AU: Hi, My name is Monèt, aka Momo the Great. Welcome to my revamp of my revamp of my very first fanfic I posted all the way back in 2008. Damn over 12 years later. So I took a bit of a sabbatical, aka a 8 year long vacation. What had happened was I met a girl, fell in love with said girl, then got married to the girl, and then just got lazy about updating the fic. BUT! I'm back and I'd like to think better than ever. Whatever you think you know from the first fic, throw it out your mind. Pretend like the first fic never happened! YAY!

Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi: The Next Generation, nor their characters or their specific plot lines.

The body temperature of the average human being is 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit which is 37 degrees Celsius. I had to find a converter to figure out the temperature in Celsius because in America we use Fahrenheit, not Celsius. But in Canada they use Celsius, not Fahrenheit.

The average high temperature in Tampa, Florida in September is 87.5 degrees Fahrenheit, 30.8 degrees Celsius. The average low temperature is 77.4 degrees Fahrenheit, 25.2 degrees Celsius. The average high temperature in Toronto, Canada in September is 69.3 degrees Fahrenheit, 20.7 degrees Celsius. The average low is 55.8 degrees Fahrenheit, 13.2 degrees Celsius.

According to the 2000 U.S. Census the city of Tampa's demographics broke down as the following; 64.27% white, 26.03% black, 19.26% Hispanic or Latino Origin, and 2.16% Asian. In Canada's last census, conducted in 2001, it was found that blacks represented 2.2% of the total Canadian population. TWO POINT TWO PERCENT! Compared to the 2000 U.S. Census that found blacks made up 12.3% of America's total population.

I know what you're wondering, not because I'm a mind reader, but because of what I would be wondering if I were in your shoes. You're wondering, "Who the hell are you and why are you spitting random numbers at me?!"

Long story short? My name is Jordan Johnson. I'm a 16 year old African-AMERICAN girl that was just transplanted to Toronto, Canada and now I'm standing in front of my new school wearing a jacket because it's currently 57 degrees. 57 degrees in September!

I can't believe this. I just cannot believe this. I'm not sure which part I disbelieve more. The fact that I'm a new kid during my strongjunior/strong year of high school, or the fact that my parents moved me to a place where you actually wear jackets in September. JACKETS IN SEPTEMBER! WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?!

I turn my head left to right, back and forth, taking in my new surroundings. There's a giant banner hanging that says "emWelcome Back/em!" even though I'm sure it should actually read "emWelcome to Hell/em!" Students all around me are hugging and smiling at each other, asking one another how their summer break was. Is anyone asking me how my summer break was? No, because no one here gives a shit, because no one here knows me.

How is it that I've been here less than ten minutes and I already miss my old school? I miss home. I miss feeling the warmth of the Florida sun on my face, being blinded by the white sand of Clearwater Beach, diving into the warm blueish green waters of the Gulf of Mexico. I miss going to Busch Gardens with my friends, with the occasional trip to Universal or Disney World. I had to miss St. Pete Pride this year, an event my parents helped organized last year, the inaugural year! And as if things couldn't get any worse I also had to miss out on Gay Day at Disney World! My little baby lesbian heart broke when my parents told me that news. I almost told them to bite me when they suggested we go to Toronto Pride. Almost.

I know how I sound right now, no need for you to tell me. But I can't help it. I miss my old life. I miss my beautiful home in beautiful Tampa, Florida. I miss my family, my friends. I miss the things that I could do there. For example, can you go to the beach in Toronto in the middle of January? Nope! You sure as hell can't. But you can go to the beach year fucking round in Florida. Year…fucking…round.

Buzz

I pull my vibrating phone out of my pocket.

Where are you?

I should have known the text would be from my mother. Who else would be texting me right now?

I take a deep breath and being walking up the steps of my new school, Degrassi Community School? What is a community school exactly? Don't all public schools serve the community? Isn't that kind of the point of a public school? I have to admit though, there are some very good looking girls here.

BAM!

"Ugh," I groan in pain. "Fuck me with a stick."

That's what I get for looking at girls and not where I was going. My father always tells me that I either need to walk or look at pretty girls, not do both. And now I'm on my ass, on the ground in pain.

"Watch where you're going next time," an angry voice says.

I look up to see who this anger belongs to. Maybe she's angry because of the ugly ass green hoodie she's wearing. I'm sorry, that was very rude of me. Bad Jordan.

She's still looking down at me with a scowl look on her face. If I was a betting woman I'd bet, based off of her skin tone, that she may be of Latina descent. Dark eyes, dark hair, slim figure, she's wearing sunglasses on top of her head and headphones around her neck. She'd be cute if she didn't look like she wanted to kill me right now. Wait, how long have I been on the ground?

I quickly stand up and brush myself off. She is STILL leering at me, this must be some sort of record.

"I think this is actually a lesson for both of us," I tell her. "That we should both pay attention when walking. I mean, I bumped into you, you bumped into me."

She scoffs. "I didn't bump into you."

"I mean… it takes two to bump."

I immediately regret saying that. That somehow came out sounding sexual and now I would like to go back to my mother's car and hide.

"Do you think you're funny or something?" the girl asks angrily.

"Yes?" I say, sounding unsure.

She steps up to me and now our faces are almost touching. Is this a Canadian thing or does this girl just not believe in personal space, or boundaries?

"Next time you get in my way Chuckles," she starts. "Don't."

The girl shoulder checks me as she continues her journey down the stairs. Damn, that really hurt. I rub the spot where she hit me and watch the girl as she takes some poor kid's lunch. What the hell? I thought Canadians were suppose to be nice…