II. I Wonder as I Wander
Author's Note: This chapter is mildly angsty, but overall, it's still not. lol. Yeah. Reviews are welcome. :) I think I'm updating one more time before the holidays, but if not, happy holidays!
"A cruel gust of wind blew through the side streets, tinsel swinging against streetlamps. Craig Manning trudged through the snow, and the snow wasn't that fresh kind. No, it was the nasty, blackish slush that your grandmother makes you clean while you shovel the walk, and never mind the fact that it's your first day of break from school. And oh...," chronicles J.T., pausing.
Toby shakes his head. He wishes Craig lived closer to Manning's Music or the school, but no, the famous musician lived ten minutes away. Why couldn't they just ride the bus? Would it really damage J.T.'s narration? His fingers are numb.
"J.T...," begins Toby.
" The moon is shaded by clouds, Christmas clouds, and...," narrates J.T.
"What are you two doing?" interrupts a familiar voice as she strolls down the street.
Hair styled in a flattering bun, and a light blue winter coat over her frame, Liberty rights her glasses. Curiously, she holds an hourglass and a leather-covered book.
Appearing stunned, J.T. shrugs, glances over at Toby, who doesn't know whether to say anything either. They stare past her, seeing Craig's curly top go around the corner. Man!
"Liberty, I'm trying to narrate, alright?" shares J.T.
"Like extra credit?" prompts Liberty. "Hmmm, doing the same. A project on time and motion. Something's really off about tonight. Can't put my finger on it."
J.T. elbows Toby, gives him a smug expression. Alright, alright. So J.T. was in control for once without any permission from Liberty. Big deal. When school started, he'd be lovestruck as ever, and trying to get into her good graces. So he better enjoy this twisted night.
"And if I told you that I'm the person making this happen, with my tight storytelling skills?" boasts J.T., leaning into Liberty. "Impressed, right?"
"Yeah...right," brushes off Liberty. "There has to be a scientific explanation, particularly in the case of time. I mean, hours don't just slow down, do they? It's been ten o' clock for awhile now."
"Well, just keep plugging away, my little Einstein," says J.T., patting her back. "We're on the move."
J.T. and Toby start in the direction where Craig was last, Toby trying to make sense of Liberty's words.
"These properties are potentially dangerous, so I'd go home if I were you," warns Liberty.
"Uhh...," begins J.T.
"What's that mean?" whispers Toby, nervously.
"Hey, Liberty, you're missing a Madame Curie Christmas special on the Bio channel," informs J.T.
"Oooh!" cries Liberty, heading home.
J.T. and Toby exchange worried looks, pass the corner until they reach a large, upscale house. Toby and his dad drove to Craig's house a couple times to give Ashley a ride home, but after she went to England, he hasn't come around in about a year. Craig had done some major redecorating, including adding another level with a balcony. The brick house, with no Christmas lights or decorations to be seen, towered over the houses of his two neighbors. The red flag on the Jeremiah-named mailbox, oddly still the same, rattled in the wind.
"Manning's home was stately, yet dark, and huge, yet cold. It formerly belonged to his stepfather, Joey Jeremiah, who we'll meet in...oh, thirty or so minutes. This may suggest some hidden warmth he had for his old man, that even with the disappearance of the car lot, Craig still held onto something. Or you know, since Caitlin bought this house, she has to deal with all the homeowner issues."
"Clarify?" encourages Toby.
"Inside joke," mumbles J.T. "Anyhoo, we're going in."
"Oh no!" protests Toby. "I've managed to not do drugs or get arrested or impregnate a child or get involved in a love triangle. I am not, repeat not, risking my rep by breaking and entering."
"Come on," says J.T. "You said you wanted to know how Joey died, and it's not like we're total strangers to this house. Joey dragged us in there once."
Toby releases a deep breath, eyes his best friend. All that is very true.
"How are we getting inside?" asks Toby.
"This," says J.T., removing a vial of dust from his pocket.
"Cocaine?" exclaims Toby.
"No, because then I'd be Craig," laughs J.T. "It's like this dust I found in my costume's pocket a few weeks ago. Was going to use it at the station for the kids' Easter art show, but me suddenly disappearing would've freaked the kids out. I figure this is more appropriate."
"This isn't going to hurt, is it?" asks Toby, taking a couple steps back.
"Probably about the same as Alex flicking your ear," informs J.T.
"I liked that," admits Toby. "Tough girls are hot."
J.T. sprinkles some dust into his hand, splashes it in Toby's face. Toby coughs for a full minute, as J.T. flicks two handfuls of it over his shoulders. No fair. He didn't throw it in his own face.
"Let's go," instructs J.T., walking to the front door, Toby doing the same.
Instead of knocking or ringing the bell, J.T.'s form goes entirely through the wooden door. Toby stares on, blankly. This is insane. Although, more insane than J.T. thinking he could use a king-size condom with his stack of dimes? Nah, thinks Toby, a chilly blast of air greeting his cheeks as he goes through the door as well. The dust worked! Since the last time they've been inside, quite a few things have changed. Toby noticed there were no family photographs anymore, and most of the furniture was black, and looked uncomfortable.
"Everything I touch turns to dust," they hear from the kitchen.
For a second, Toby believes it's J.T. telling him more concerning the dust, then he recognizes the apology song Ashley received three years ago, after Craig cheated on her. They advance to the kitchen, where Craig is pouring a steaming pot of some food into a bowl. His countenance is more tough up close, and he doesn't smile as he sings.
"Craig performed the same routine every night," whispers J.T., leaning against a black couch. "Sang the same song, Dust. Ate the same food, goulash. These things were familiar to him, did them out of instinct. He carried the bowl through the empty house, to his lonely bedroom."
Craig blows on the warm goulash, sets it on a tray with a plate of poutine and a glass of milk, passes J.T. and Toby without recognition. Hmmm, just like in high school, remembers Toby. Oh wait, the dust. He can't see them. Toby chuckles, puts bunny ears behind Craig as they all go up the stairs.
"Real mature, Tobes," whispers J.T. "As Craig moved through the dark, he couldn't help thinking about Jimmy's words. That he was selfish, that this holiday held more than what Craig prized. Sean Cameron obviously thought so, taking a day off work to spend time with his loved ones. Ha, loved ones. He used to have all that, before it got taken away, and people wondered why he was so bitter."
They reach Craig's room, Toby and J.T. scrambling inside before he shuts the door and turns on the light. If the Jeremiah residence received the royal treatment, Craig's individual room is the Taj Mahal. Practically everything is in the colors of silver and gold. A large, king-sized, canopy bed has gold curtains surrounding it, the initials CM carved into its headboard. The lamps, fireplace, and drawers are silver, just as shiny as the guitar laying against the closet door to their left. Craig's tour must've been a huge sensation. Craig sets his goulash on a gold table, flips on the fireplace with a remote control. It roars to life. Thank goodness because Toby can finally feel his fingers.
Craig sits down, begins to eat, liquid trickling against his lips. Two minutes go by, then five, then ten. Toby groans, leans against a bedpost.
"This is boring," complains Toby.
"We're waiting for an arrival," shares J.T.
"Can we at least watch TV?" asks Toby, going to the plasma TV and turning it on.
"Toby!" cries J.T.
An infomercial appears on the screen, Craig spurting goulash from his mouth. Oh yeah, since he couldn't see them or hear them, this must be weird for the TV to be suddenly on. Toby smiles apologetically.
"Are you a season straggler?" asks a cheerful voice. "Caught up in your daily, hectic life? Well, look no further than Paige Michalchuk's Holiday Holdout!"
J.T., Toby, and Craig turn when they see Degrassi's former Spirit Squad captain, beaming at them, dressed in a tasteful, fitted red sweater and skirt, a Santa hat covering her blonde mane.
"We have everything for a low price!" guarantees Paige. "Simply continue to watch our Christmas Eve broadcast, and I promise you'll have the perfect package for each person, hun."
"Say that five times fast!" says Spinner, ducking his head into the camera frame. "Hey!"
"Spinner...," moans Paige.
"What my favorite shopper forgot to mention is that Squatch Wear is like, in massive supply...keeps you all warm and toasty."
Spinner winks at the camera, whirling around so the studio audience can see the sweatshirt he's wearing. The off-screen audience oohs and aahs.
"I hawk what I want to hawk, honeybee," says Paige, putting on a fake smile. "We'll...we'll be right back."
Paige pushes Spinner lightly before the screen changes to a commercial for Boxing Day specials at the local mall. Craig shakes his head, turns the TV off.
"Never liked their lovey dovey names," he mumbles, then returning to his goulash.
Another fifteen minutes pass, and Toby, growing anxious, finally decides to take a nap during that interval. J.T. said it'd be a long night. Luckily for him, his best friend shakes Toby, helps him to rise from the floor. During his nap, Craig has apparently changed into black silk pajamas, and has started reading a copy of Rolling Stone.
"Amateur...sellout...needs a stylist," laughs Craig, flipping through the magazine.
His judgements are halted by the lights going out on their own accord, the fire reducing in size. Toby swallows a lump in his throat, that sound covered by louder, steady sounds– the sounds of chains clinking and dragging. Whatever is making them is at a slow crawl, and Craig, growing pale, grabs his guitar, maybe to slap it upside the head.
"This...this better not be Skinny," says Craig, wiping his sweaty brow. "He's not taking another one of my guitars, especially one signed by Taking Back Sunday."
The chains continue to drag for a few more moments, steps finally halting as the person reaches the door.
"Everybody wants something they'll never give up...everybody wants something, they'll take your money and never give up," sings a masculine voice, somewhat on-key.
"What the?" says Craig, lowering the guitar, falling into his chair.
Before anyone can say anything else, a white-faced figure of someone they all know comes floating through the door, two rows of chains attached to his arms. Joey. Joey Jeremiah, his coal-black eyes burning a hole through their warm clothing, his tattered, crumbling Hawaiian shirt hanging from his shadowy body, his fedora...just a smidge lop-sided. Toby can see right through him as he moves to the table where Craig is. Craig's jaw drops, his legs shaking as his ghostly stepfather stares at him.
"Wasn't there a movie called Ghost Dad?" says J.T. "With Bill Cosby?"
Toby remains speechless, trying to fathom these strange events.
"Ah, well," sighs J.T. "Jeremiah's face. Transparent and tender. It made Craig recall the not so traumatic moments. Playing in his band, watching Angie ice skate with Joey, telling him what happened at the eighties' dance, that Emma and Manny snuck into. Why didn't they invite us? Yet, Craig could scarcely believe that the kindest adult in his life stood in his presence."
"Who are you?" questions Craig.
"Ask me who I was, man," returns Joey, his happy-go-lucky voice echoing.
"Talking in riddles, Joey?" asks Craig, dumbfounded. "I'm...you're not real! A figment of my imagination. Bad digestion! A gulp of goulash that was digested wrong."
"When I was alive, I was your father...well, pretty much," answers Joey. "And dude, was I a good one! This is how you greet your fellow ladies' man?"
Craig shakes his head violently, covers his eyes, then peeps in between his fingers.
"I'm not the topless Manny video, Manning," jokes Joey.
"And why didn't I see that?" complains J.T. "Toby, we gotta get out more. Nevertheless, Craig knew it was true then. The dead Jeremiah had come to visit, the only question remaining, why? I could tell him. Because the story's not going anywhere, otherwise."
Joey raises his arms, the chains clinking. "It is required of every heartthrob to walk the streets like all these regular guys...you know, like Snake. Guy didn't get any until college. Phew. But if a guy doesn't find true happiness, real happiness, he's doomed to walk this earth forever, craving what he didn't find."
"What true happiness?" asks Craig.
"What I had with Caitlin," sighs Joey. "With you and Angie. Like a real family. Love, understanding, togetherness..."
"Ugh," groans Craig. "I'm not some hippie, Joey. Maybe that's how it was back in the day, but..."
"I grew up in the eighties!" protests Joey. "I'm not old."
"Then, Caitlin left and everything got all...confusing," continues Joey. "I mean, Diane was scorchin', don't get me wrong, but I closed myself off, after you left, Angie left...then I died."
"How?" yells Toby, excitedly.
"Let him ask," says J.T., shoving Toby, lightly.
"How?" asks Craig, gently.
"Was supposed to be at the community center," reminisces Joey. "To help with the tone-deaf kids. But no, got distracted by this pretty redhead in the car lot. The lot was icy. We were starting to climb into my car for some quick nookie, then bam, fell and my skull cracked as easily as Wheels' voice during the Zit days."
"Done in by horniness," murmurs J.T.
"I'm always horny, and I'm still kicking," confesses Toby, nonchalantly.
Craig stands, cautiously going to Joey, evaluating his ghostly chains. They were transparent too, a dozen lock boxes at the end.
"Why the chains?" inquires Craig.
"Earned them while alive," explains Joey. "They're for every heart I broke. Craig, you got a few coming as well."
"No!" cries Craig. "You're out of your mind!"
"Out of my mind? See me stealing credit cards and wrecking hotel rooms?" argues Joey. "I'm dead. And when you're dead, you'll be like me, unless you get your act straight...finally."
"Whatever," says Craig.
"And what you did to my car lot? I should smack your ungrateful..."
"I do what I want!" exclaims Craig. "Go away...please."
He pays no attention to the apparition of his stepfather, moans, and flops on his bed, curtains fluttering as he falls. Craig tosses back and forth, mumbling into the sheets. J.T. coughs.
"Despite his ignorant reaction, Craig was concerned," says J.T. "He never thought of the afterlife, only the present, because that's where all his possessions were. The chains frightened him, and so did the possibility of singing his terrible, unreleased songs for an eternity, without the chance of a record deal."
"Craig, I'll offer you some comfort," says Joey, chains shaking as he glides forward. "Long ago, you were very vulnerable, more eager to love. I gave you love as best I could. So did your other family members and friends. We haven't forgotten who you used to be."
"I'm alone," whispers Craig. "That's all there is to it. I made...so many mistakes."
"We all do," assures Joey.
"Not the same Craig," breathes Craig. "If everyone believes I've changed, might as well be it."
"That's where you're wrong," argues Joey. "Younger ghosts will visit you tonight, since you'll apparently listen to the MTV generation and not me. And please don't be emo when they come. Go along with it, and you'll learn...you know, something you actually did when I was around."
"These visitors better be paying to stay," insists Craig, sitting up. "This isn't Motel Six."
"Look, get over yourself. There's three, and they're coming on the hour at the top of the hour."
"Craig sighed, watched Joey float to the door, lock boxes cluttering against the floor. It seemed like he didn't have the choice," narrates J.T. "There's no way he wanted to be in Joey's position, despite loving him in the past."
"When the clock rings twelve, the first will arrive," informs Joey. "Hmm, time to go haunt Kevin Smith."
"Huh?" says Craig.
"Busted my engagement," reminds Joey. "Should be crying about Gigli as usual."
The room brightens as soon as the last chink of Joey's chains dissolves as his shadowy body leaves. They were alone again. Craig deadens the fire, turns off the lights, his heartbeat accelerating. J.T. and Toby move to the window, Toby looking out at the balcony. The distance from the balcony to the ground couldn't have been that far, so why at that moment, does it feel like the farthest distance in the world?
Craig pulls down his sheets, hops into bed, ruffled brown curls against his satin pillows.
"That was a dream," he tells himself. "So I'll go to sleep, wake up an hour later, and return to reality."
"As he slumbered, Craig was so convinced that he'd awake to some sense of clarity, his home and mind in order," says J.T., beginning to unfasten the window.
"Hey...it's cold!" moans Toby, watching him.
"She can't get in otherwise," announces J.T.
"Who?" says Toby.
"The ghost, Toby!" exclaims J.T. "Craig shivered against his sheets, hoping, praying that he was as sane as the next guy. Many things Joey told him echoed in his mind. About true happiness, about changing himself, about his future. They rang loudly in his brain, so loudly that the chimes of his stylish bed clock had to compete."
Sharp, syncopated chiming comes from the clock on Craig's nightstand, Craig staring at the window, expectantly. Nothing. Great, thinks Craig. Joey was just trying to fool him, freak him out because of what he did to the car lot. Good one, Jeremiah. He draws the curtain, releases a deep breath.
"Where are the pictures of me?" laments a youthful, vibrant voice.
He gasps as a shapely shadow hovers behind the curtain, sweat forming at the nape of his neck.
"Boo!" shouts the owner of the shadow, sliding the curtain to see Craig.
"Ah!" screams Craig, jumping and falling to the floor, sheets covering him.
He wrestles with them for a few moments, manages to get them off his head. When he raises his head, his eyebrows shoot upward, as he views an all too familiar figure in his presence. She giggles as he rises.
"'Tis the ghost of Christmas past," shares J.T. "A girl we all know too well."
"Manny?" cries Craig. "What are...are you doing here? And you sounded...sounded like my sister."
"You know, I'm so sick of hearing that!" complains Manny. "I'm not a child anymore! I don't look like your sister, act like your sister, and I definitely don't dress like your sister."
A flowing, red robe over her body, her face glowing as brilliantly as a star, Manny lowers the robe to reveal a pink crop-top, a pink thong visible above the waist of her low-rise jeans.
"Raditch can't tell me how to dress anymore since I'm supernatural!" brags Manny, flipping her dark hair. "Points for feminism."
"Um...yeah," says Craig. "Listen, I appreciate your persistence...always have, but I'm not in the mood for a relationship right now."
"That was the old...well, more human Manny," she says, crossing her arms. "Currently, I'm in otherworldly, supportive friend mode, mkay?"
"I'd like her to support me," whispers Toby, pounding fists with a grinning J.T.
"That's a problem," says Craig, starting for the door. "See...I've got...got homework. Never graduated high school, you see?"
"No, you're staying," insists Manny, stretching out her hand.
Toby's mouth parts as Craig's feet halt, and he backs up to Manny, as if an invisible rope is reeling him to her. J.T. doesn't appear disturbed, checks his watch.
"Wish I could've done that after you dumped me for the locker decorating," sighs Manny. "Craig, this is for your own good. Personally, I'm all for transformations that broaden your character...I mean, life."
Craig clicks his tongue, then rubs his forehead.
"After that, Craig grew weary of resisting, which is the usual between him and Manny. However, this appeared to be a healthy form of that, and recalling Joey's chains from breaking all those hearts, he felt bad saying no to the first girl whose heart he broke," shares J.T.
"So what's your job with me?" questions Craig.
"I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past," explains Manny. "I wanted the Ghost of Christmas Hot Past, but that didn't clear. Anyways, enough jabbering. Took the early shift so I could go to a party later."
"A rave?" teases Craig.
Manny stretches her hand out again, making Craig lurch.
"Hee," squeals Manny. "This is going to be fun."
"Why's the window open?" says Craig, as Manny releases him.
"Going on a trip."
"I only fly first-class," jokes Craig.
"Funny," says Manny, rolling her eyes. "But we will need funny to get around."
"Okay?" says Craig, blankly.
"Well, as you know, when we were somewhat involved, I said a host of catchy phrases," recalls Manny. "For you to fly, and to show that you actually cared about me at one point in your selfish existence, I need you to repeat one of them."
"Tastes like happy!" shouts Toby.
"She can't hear you," whispers J.T., grabbing Toby's arm.
Craig twists his lips, taps his chin, pondering those years. Then, he snaps his fingers.
"Dibs on the cinnamon buns!" offers Craig.
Manny claps, situates her robe, and grabs Craig's clammy hand. The window flies open, Manny hopping out with Craig screaming.
"What a wimp," laughs Toby.
"Following," informs J.T., taking Toby's arm and making him jump next.
Toby yells for a full minute as they tumble out of the window, soar over the balcony, and into the night sky. The deep blue unsettles his eyes, the wind blowing against his cheeks. They were flying, actually flying, with feet off the ground. J.T. hums "Flight of the Bumblebee", eyes locked on Craig and Manny flying in front. Toby glances at Toronto below them, yellow lights like stars underneath their bodies, cars moving like ants. He feels ready to throw up. Heh, maybe he'd hit Nic or another Lakehurst guy that beat him up.
The chance has passed as Manny and Craig start their descent, easily floating to a snow-covered street. J.T. motions for him to stop panicking, and set his feet in a downward motion, the two boys joining the ghost and Craig on the ground.
"Better than Jet Blue," kids J.T., running to Craig.
"Why are we on this street?" wonders Craig. "It's a street that I could find with blind eyes."
"There was a time when you didn't hate Christmas," says Manny, turning a doorknob to their right. "When days were warm, the mood was festive, and you were still hot."
All of them make their way into the house, meticulously decorated with hand-drawn decorations, a store-bought tree, and two gingerbread houses on the table. Craig breathes heavily as they hear a youthful yell fill the room.
"Mom, you said I could use the gumdrops for a fence!" says a boyish voice.
A young form appears in the door frame of the living room, Toby staring at him alarmed. Craig puts a hand over his heart.
"His heart ached at the sight of a boy he hadn't seen in such a long time," says J.T. "Clean, styled curls, corduroy pants, anxious grin. His skin prickled as he beheld himself. Craig Manning, at the tender age of ten. This was the former home of Julia Manning, before she moved to the Jeremiah residence that we just left. It was often the custom for Craig to visit his mother, but customs change, and this was the first year that Joey and Angie came over to celebrate the joyful holiday occasion with them."
"Craig, you know we're saving some gumdrops for Angie," says a dark-haired beauty, adjusting her apron as she comes in.
"Mom!" cries older Craig, trying to touch her. "I haven't seen you..."
"Craig, we can't be seen," says Manny. "We're shadows to them and nothing else."
"That's...that's my mom," says adult Craig, sadly.
"Dear-hearted Julia," adds J.T. "No matter their familial situation, she always tried to make things easier for Craig and Angie. Whatever arrangements she made with Joey or Craig, she remembered what was in their best interest."
"Angie won't mind," whines ten-year old Craig. "She's too young to eat them."
"It's always good to share. Bad boys don't," insists Julia, bending to her son. "You'd rather be good, right?"
"Yes, Mom," relents Craig, kissing her cheek. "Has Dad called today?"
"Oh, not yet, but he will," says Julia. "He's busy working."
"It's Christmas, though...," begins Craig.
"I know, I know," interjects Julia. "Albert..."
Young Craig shudders at the name, the older Craig lowering his eyes. Manny leads him to a corner.
"Craig was so used to Julia calling Albert 'your father' or Daddy," explains J.T., standing behind Manny. "Divorce seemed such a cruel term to him. Yet, his mother is the happiest he's ever seen her, and Joey, he had to confess, was good for her, better to her."
"I'll wait by the phone," decides Craig.
"Craig...don't...don't be too disappointed if...," says Julia, her voice trailing off. "Actually, I'm going to go call Joe, see what's keeping your sister."
Ten-year old Craig nods, walks to an armchair, sits diligently. Older Craig shakes his head as he views himself, the boy who waits, and waits, before and after Joey and Angie came. The scene blends into a blur with the passing minutes, materializes to more joyful scenes. Angie arrives, complains that her gingerbread house is smaller, charmingly lets Craig have the gumdrops as he sits by the phone. Joey tries to get Craig invested in a game of Uno with failed results, and he grudgingly eats the treats Julia set in front of him.
"No scene could shake what the older Craig knew," sighs J.T. "The call that never came from his father. Albert resented Joey and Julia's relationship so much, he started ignoring Craig whenever he was around them. Even on Christmas. It was the first tainting of what should be a time for hope and reconciliation. Young Craig thought, if he didn't make the time, why should I? Older Craig thought these images brutal."
"Why'd you show me this, Manny?" demands Craig, brushing past her.
J.T. and Toby follow Manny as she trails Craig outside the house. A steady snowfall has started.
"I don't need to be reminded of Albert Manning," breathes Craig, glancing at the sky.
"Sadly, you do, Craig," says Manny, looping arms with him. "We have other stops to make so..."
"That was too much!" snaps Craig. "I'm not going anywhere with..."
"Hmm, yes, we are," mutters J.T., running to Craig and pushing him.
Craig totters into a bank of snow, Manny yelping. He instantly gets to his feet, confusion written on his face.
"Yummy yum yum," whispers J.T. in his ear.
"Yummy yum yum?" repeats Craig, loudly. "Huh? Who's there?"
"That's like the perfect expression for the bash we're going to crash!" shouts Manny, pumping her fist in the air. "Yes!"
Before Craig can say another word, Manny takes him by the hand and begins strolling down the street. J.T. and Toby laugh, jogging alongside them.
After a five minute walk, they're standing right in front of a building they went to everyday. Degrassi Community School. However, unlike during the holidays, the school is well-lit, cheery music flowing through the entrance. Toby glances at the school sign. Snake's Happening Holiday Extravaganza. What? The Student Council didn't approve that. Oh, great, and since he's acting treasurer, Liberty would blame him. No, that's right, this is the past, he tells himself.
"Why, it's Snake's Happening Holiday Extravaganza!" cries Craig, without the slightest hint of impracticality. "I remember this as if it were...grade eleven."
"It was grade eleven, dummy," says Manny, going up the stairs with him. "The year you dated another girl that shall remain nameless."
"Snake felt bad for students that were personally affected by the shooting, and wanted to make the place cheerful again," explains J.T. to Toby. "Me, I would've bought all of us churros and called it a day. Not Snake, though. He went all out, and no price was too steep. That explains, you know, the bags of extra ice."
"Oh," says Toby, as they head in the direction of the thumping music.
Entering the auditorium, Manny drops it like it's hot, weaves through the crowd as she dances. Craig stares at the crowd, placidly, trying to recognize anyone. There were quite a few people they all knew, thinks Toby. Spinner and Manny, a former couple he always forgot were a couple, were grinding to a clean holiday carol.
"Man, I have more rhythm than I thought," boasts Manny, as they pass her former self and Spinner, jutting out his hips.
Hazel and Paige were exchanging make-up tips, as Danny chases Emma with a huge piece of mistletoe.
"Ah, Paige," says Toby, trying to tap her shoulder without any luck. "Listen, on New Year's, there's this Chess Club..."
"Stop hitting on the girls in the story!" whispers J.T., pushing Toby gently.
They're all stunned when they hear someone tapping a microphone, their Media Immersion teacher standing on an erected stage as everyone applauds. Snake is still bald from his treatments, though his face appears as youthful as the first day Toby met him.
"Welcome to the part-ay!" shouts Snake, geekily, some cheers sounding after that. "We've all had a tough year, and I'm not going to make a big speech. I'm sure we've all done some soul-searching, taking stock of our what matters in our lives. What I will say is that Degrassi, even in its darkest hour, is our home. We've come together in so many great ways following those days, and you guys are truly family. So to home!"
"To home!" echoes everyone in the crowd.
Well, not everyone, notes Toby. Craig, any form of Craig, isn't among the group, the group he usually hung out with.
"Where am I?" mutters Craig. "I mean, I was here."
"Conceited, much?" groans Manny. "Fine. Keep your eye on that door."
Sure enough, with Manny's words, sixteen-year old Craig comes in, black leather jacket on his skinny figure, vintage tee-shirt over his nice build. Younger Manny sees him, sighs, then collects herself.
"Don't pay attention to him, you dolt!" yells Manny, going to shake herself.
"Hey, there's me!" cries Toby.
It's weird seeing yourself at a different time, thinks Toby. Especially at a social gathering. Whoa, was he always that pathetic. Toby, leaning against the wall, sniffs some punch. Fifteen-year old J.T. yawns, strokes his belly.
"We're so cool," breathes narrator J.T. "Anyway, despite the hectic holiday partying, Craig Manning found time to sneak away and work on a rather important project, a project he wanted to share with as many people as possible."
Craig rights his leather jacket, passes his future incarnation, and goes to Snake. Snake views him curiously, especially when Craig takes the microphone.
"This little event...why are we having it?" demands Craig.
The other partygoers groan.
"Jimmy's lying in a hospital bed," continues Craig. "Which is why I wrote these songs about being fragile and conscious. So pretend to be deep for a second and..."
"Shut your trap!" yells Sully.
"Sully...over here!" calls ghost Manny, waving to him. "Hey...pay attention to me like you always do! Pay attention! I've got the thong on!"
"You guys are disgraceful!" moans Craig. "This a world of darkness and despair and tragedy, and if you actually noticed what goes on with Degrassi every year instead of getting lattes from the Dot or doing stupid Spirit Squad cheers..."
"Hey!" protests Paige.
"Quite enough, Craig," says Snake, leading him off the stage.
Everyone voices their approval, Craig clambering down the steps, as Snake takes him to the side. I don't know, thinks Toby. It was no worse than Emma's environmental speeches. Hmm, Emma. Where is that beautiful blonde? J.T. yanks Toby to Snake and Craig, not allowing him the pleasure. Unable to get a glance from Sully, Manny resumes her task, ushering Craig to the stage as well.
"This isn't a time for you to be emo, Craig," sighs Snake. "I'm Joey's friend and all, but you're a party pooper."
"How come no one understands me?" whispers Craig, intently. "Is it become I'm socially aware? Huh?"
"No," insists Snake. "We're...we're just thankful that we're here, that Jimmy's getting better. Look, go get a cookie. That always cheers me up."
"My mom made me cookies," says Craig, frowning. "Nah. I'll get...like carrot sticks."
"There's plenty," reassures Snake. "And ice!"
The future posse trails sixteen-year old Craig to the refreshment table, all bumping into him as they see a face that's so familiar. She's the most familiar to Toby, since they lived together.
"Ash," sighs older Craig, immediately smoothing his pajama bottoms.
Ashley absent-mindedly straightens some napkins, Converse sneakers against the linoleum floor, reddish-brown hair glossy as the fake snowflakes against the auditorium walls.
"All that talk of understanding," whispers J.T. "And he views the girl that understands him most. Ashley Kerwin. His Shrew soulmate, his musical sparring partner, and his beautiful bandmate appeared as new as before. Snake was exactly right. The aftermath of the shooting made him evaluate everything, everyone. Craig realized this girl from his colorful past, that she's the girl he was less selfish with, most open with. His muse...she's the owner of the heart he hated breaking the most. And...now a break from the sentimentality regarding your stepsister and her boytoy."
"Thank goodness," mumbles Toby, grimacing.
"Hey, Ash," greets sixteen-year old Craig. "You showed up to this thing?"
"Nothing better to do," admits Ashley. "How are you? Haven't seen you since the hospital."
"True," explains J.T. "Craig, not used to having that level of compassion shown to him, released Ashley after his diagnosis. He didn't want to be a burden to her, after seeing that Joey paying for his medical bills was making life harder at home. The abrupt refusal to allow her to stay lead Ashley to cry for weeks. They kept their distance, regarded each other as strangers in the halls. However, that wasn't to last."
"I'm fine," assures Craig. "Was awake last night...spent the whole night writing songs."
"Would love to hear them sometime," says Ashley. "Are they for the Squatch?"
"A couple," says Craig. "And sure...you'll be the first person I share them with."
"Great!" cries Ashley. "Too bad your speech didn't go over well. People should be thinking more deeply about this."
"Well, of course, she thinks so," mumbles ghost Manny, narrowing her eyes.
"Do you...do you want to dance?" asks Craig. "I mean...depending on the song. Snake's happening party isn't exactly hip when it comes to tunes."
"Forget the tune...dancing with you is something I miss," stammers Ashley, blushing.
Craig beams, holds out his hand to Ashley. Ashley nods, taking it. Pretty soon, they're on the floor, swaying to a slow song, and for once, just once, Toby isn't disgusted. Younger Craig had found something to be cheery about, and that's good, because the "desperate to be dark" act was wearing thin.
"Do you remember this Christmas?" questions Manny.
"He did," inserts J.T. as older Craig remains silent. "It's the first holiday where his heart didn't feel as if it was struggling to beat, a soft return to normalcy. Getting healthier after the hospital stays, getting better after apologizing for cheating, he could open himself to another individual. Be a boyfriend instead of a burden. If Ashley was willing, he wanted to take that next step with her."
"There's...there's another Christmas with her," speaks up Manny, hesitantly.
"Oh, please, do you want to torture me?" cries future Craig, glaring at her. "Do not show me that Christmas. Want to hurt me like I hurt you?"
"This isn't about hurting you, Craig!" insists Manny. "I...I have to show you."
Craig reluctantly leaves the auditorium with Manny, Toby and J.T. on the way. Toby pauses to view his stepsister and Craig, two years ago, so happy, so ready. What could possibly tear them apart?
"Something tells me I'm not going to like this part," whispers Toby.
"We'll see, Tobes," sighs J.T. "We'll see."