Sorry for taking so long. School is really stressful and time consuming. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

I do not own Degrassi- I know I've never done this, but I'm a new story poster, and I am not used to doing that!

Sadness. Anger. Joy. Love. Curiosity. Pain. Pleasure. Confusion. Hatred. Desire.

There are so many emotions out there in this world, probably more than there are people, and the more I think about it, the more I realize the truth. That with so many feelings to grasp comes such little amount of time to hold on to them. Happiness is a fire, burning and burning and warming your heart, and even though it's great while it lasts, something always tears it down. Whether or not that something be a person, or a feeling, or even yourself, when you look at what once was a blazing flame, now lays dark debris, signs that the warmth is gone.

But it's kind of funny, in a sick way, that the good feelings are the ones that are most rare. And I guess that might be why they're so good, because they're rare, but still, wouldn't we always want to have just what we want? Especially if what we want is always within reach? You would think so, but the hard truth is that us humans spend much more time grieving, crying, screaming, hurting than we spend laughing or smiling. They say that good always beats evil, but then why is it that happiness is always distinguished by pain?

Munro Chambers is having a tough life. Our story has been creeping up the spine of a plot triangle, tracing over the rough ridges of rising action and grasping the climax with a firm hold. It finally hits him, like a recurring dream that has never been concluded and finally ends, that all the things he has been doing were just transforming into repulsion for the future. He's too tired to move in the morning from all the beer, the eviction notices piling upon his counter are finally tipping over, and the love of his life is no better than a poisonous gas inside your house. Too bad that the by the time he realizes the fire that has been igniting an unbearable disarray, it's already burning down everything he has left.

It was difficult to throw together all these feelings and ties together into a 4 thousand word story, but Eli, Adam and I worked together to get the job done. Adam was the editor, for he had a surprising obsession with perfection and accuracy, while Eli and I shared the jobs of writer and idea maker. Both of us seemed to conclude the same visions, the same messages for the story, and I told myself that is was merely the fate of the story, but I secretly knew that it was so much more.

Eli and I hadn't shared any of those odd moments since the week before. He's felt kind of distant, like he was offering me a hand but not using enough effort to stretch out an arm. He must be hiding something, with all these tug-a-war games he's playing with my emotions, but when I begin to question it, I bring myself into consideration. I'm hiding something. Throwing Eli under the bus for the same infraction as me is the most hypocritical thing a person can do.

"So Clare," Alli is flipping through her closet, desperately searching for the appropriate attire to wear on her date with Drew. It turned out that he had liked her for a while, but just couldn't get the balls to ask her out. That's what he told Alli, at least. My prediction is that he had liked her for "a while," but just needed a couple of more girls to "build up" for the experience. Of course I wouldn't tell her that.

Fireworks, by Katy Perry, was playing on her speakers, and Alli was unconsciously mouthing the words to herself.

"Is red and strapless too easy?"

I pick at the purple fabric of her comforter. She has been contemplating different outfits for over half an hour, throwing clothes on the floor with an irritated huff only to fall on her knees and search for them all over again. I didn't really get the point of dressing up for guys. I mean, they only take, what, one minute and forty two seconds to get dressed? Why should we use up a whole hour of our time for them?

I sigh. "I don't know, Alli. And I doubt Drew will even care."

"Of course he'll care," She rolls here eyes, obviously annoyed by my lack of advice, "Guys always care, even if they don't show it. What you wear sends a message as to what you're looking for. Here," she shuffles through a couple of garments and pulls out a low-cut black dress that barely met down to the mid thighs with sparkles on it, "This is basically saying, 'cut the crap and lets just go to bed'."

I scrunch my face at her. "If it says that, then why do you have it?"

She rolls her eyes again, and I can't help but feel like I'm the only needle in a haystack, "Because, every girl needs at least one slutty piece of clothing."

Two and a half songs later, Alli finally decides her perfect outfit. Classy, cute, casual (The Three Cs) bubble dress that was black at the upper torso and blue at the bottom, separated by a black belt. She looked so happy and pure, twirling around in circles and smiling at herself in the mirror, and every time she flashed a grin in my direction I kept secretly reminding myself that that will never be me.

But I push the thoughts away. Alli is my best friend. This is her night. I have no right thinking about myself when I have absolutely nothing to do with it. So when she asks me to assist her in curling her hair, I shoot her a cheesy smile and gladly accept. When she tells me to be honest, asking if she looks okay, I tell her, honestly, that she looks like a supermodel. And when she hugs me goodbye and thanks me for being such a great friend, I hug her back and tell her that I'm just returning the favor.

And when I'm walking home alone in the cold, singing myself a song in my head, the loneliness sinks back in again. With each step I take, my feet grow heavier and heavier, the air becomes denser and denser, and my will to keep moving begins to fade away.

I can't help but feel that the tension inside my dad is escalating. Even when he's hitting, punching, or kicking me, it still feels as if he's holding back, taking a step away to try to let out a deep breath. It's terrifying, the idea that something most people would find the lowest is actually a step up for where he truly wants to be. I know my life is on edge right now, stringing together only by a thin strand of worn out tape, but I keep grasping onto the tiny piece of hope I have left, even though it may not be any help at all.

The bruises are more evident now. They're the color of blood-shot eyes, sharp as glass, and can stretch along the length of my entire waste. I used to be able to avoid them whenever I would take a shower or change clothes, but now every inch of my body that most people aren't able to see are covered with the dreadful wounds.

But the real scars, the ones that time doesn't have the power to heal, are buried deep within me. They're overpowering me everyday, kicking at my skin like a baby in a pregnant woman, and I know they want out, to escape the unyielding space of my will and be set free. But that can't happen. I keep pushing them into a bucket of false hope, along with the ideas that things will get better and that my mom will come back. None of it will ever happen, my mom is long gone, my dad's sanity has chased after it, and I am the most naïve, stupid, counterfeit person in the world.

But I'd be even more so if I did let it all do.

Alli runs up to me on the front steps of Degrassi. I can already tell what she's about to say just by the obvious glint in her big eyes.

She proves me right by saying, "Oh my god! I am officially in love!"

"So I'm guessing your date with Drew went well?"

"Went well?" She scoffs. Those words are mild stones on a mountain compared to what she thinks. "It was literally, the best date of my young life."

"Better than with Johnny?"

"Oh, absolutely," She bends down for a moment to pick at her heels. When she stands back up, she continues speaking. "I mean, my biggest date with Johnny was hanging out at the ravine with his druggie friends. Drew actually took me out, ya know? A movie, and not some gory, bloody, zombie film, but a comedy. He paid for my dinner!" She squeals, as if that idea was completely unheard of and above and beyond anything she has ever seen before. "He walked me home! And the best part is that he kissed me!" I put my hands on her shoulders to resist her from jumping up and down more and attracting all the unwanted attention.

"He kissed you?" I imagine Alli's lips coming towards Drew's, a spark lighting up in their heads the moment they touch. I have never actually been kissed before, but the idea seems like jumping out of a plane. Petrifying yet exhilarating.

She smiles confidently. "Yep. And it was such a good kiss, too! I mean, it wasn't a make-out session where all he wants is to shove his tongue in my throat, but there was some tongue." She giggles at the thought, "And it was like he wanted to kiss me, and didn't just want to kiss a girl. I actually feel special."

Alli wraps her arm around my shoulder. I look over at her, my sweet, kind, yet annoying, non-virgin best friend. She doesn't look any different. She still has dark hair, with big, brown eyes, and skin the color of mocha, but on the inside she must be somewhat different. Being in love, or in her case, in like with someone, should rewire a part of you in some way, right? And even though the rest of the world can't see it, doesn't mean it's not there.

After being the victim of an overjoyed Alli, I realize that I'm late for gym. I hurriedly skid across the hallways, cutting corners sharply and bashing through anyone who gets in my way. Unfortunately, I must have bashed into someone a little too hard, because before I know it, I'm on the floor, with Adam sprawled out in front of me.

"Oh my god!" I say, but quickly correct myself, "I mean, gosh. Are you okay?"

Adam nods, rubbing his head carefully. I see something behind him, and when I lean over to get a better view, I figure out what it is. Or at least, I think I do.

Tampons?

I'm a girl. So that means I know tampons when I see them. But even so, I try to imagine what else it could be. A glue stick? Some weird technology project? However, in a matter of a few seconds, I realize that tampons are the only possibility.

Adam follows my gaze, and his eyes snap open into a wide range of urgencies. He removes his hands from his head and reaches out to snatch the feminine items away from my view.

"Um?" I say, standing up and fixing my shirt, which had rose up during the collision. I feel myself gain the same expression as Adam's, and suddenly we're both standing there in full alert, gawking at each other. My whole body becomes covered with goose bumps, yet I'm freezing.

"Yeah…" He throws his backpack over his shoulder and lets out a shaky breath. "I, um, have to go. See you later."

I watch him speed walk across the hall, turning into a classroom. My mind is too puzzled to come up with any solutions, so instead I forget about it and continue my way too gym.

Adam's not in English today. I try to ignore that fact as I sit down in my seat, but my mind keeps replaying our earlier confrontation. What was he doing with tampons? Was it some sort of prank? I think of the movie She's The Man. Did he have a nosebleed?

My thoughts are cut off when Eli walks over and sits down in Adam's desk. "Hey," he leans forward to place a hand on my desk. He's whispering at me, his voice stealthily and notorious. "Listen, most people have barely finished their story and we're over half way done with it."

"So?"

"So," he raises his eyebrows and bends his head to the side, "What do you think of joining me on one of my EDOs?"

I stare at him. It's all I can really do at the moment. Is Eli Goldsworthy, Olive Eyed Guy, actually asking me to skip class with him? I know the idea would send Alli into an overdrive of joy and ecstasy, but what is it supposed to do with me?

"I don't know," Suddenly my pen has become very interesting. I stare at it with all my might, part of me hoping it will turn into a wand and pull me out of this situation.

"Aww, come on, Edwards," He puts his hand on my shoulder. My breath hitches. It's so warm and soft and comforting. At the same time, I know it's an omen, a signal for danger and hazard. "I never ask anyone to do this. It's a real honor. Are you really going to turn something like that down?"

"I still don't know," I mumble, "Think about-"

"Think?" His voice is harsh, challenging. "It's always thinking with you. I want you to do me a favor and stop thinking… and start following your instincts. Be honest, do you want to skip class and just get away from it all?"

The idea is so tempting. I'm like an alcoholic with a six-pack of beer laid out in front of me. It's wrong, it's stupid, and anyone with a right mind would refuse, but I can't fight that Eli's hold on my ankles is pulling me in.

"I guess…"

He claps his hands together and shoots up. "Then it's settled," he gently tugs at my arm, "Come on. Let's go."

In that moment something inside of me is changed. I can feel the gears inside of me switching, changing direction and reconnecting with unfamiliar neighbors. And when it all starts up again I feel fresh and alive and young, like nothing can every hold me down. Maybe the beer is making me drunk, and maybe I'll be hung over in the morning, but for once in my life I have to forget the future and just hold onto now.

I stand up, too, smiling at Eli. "Come on," I tell him, tugging at his arm the same way he did to mine, "Let's go."

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