Authors note: Hey everyone, there are some references to old stories here. Please try to remember the series! Also, please review. I really loved AUW, and am feeling not so confident based off the one review I've gotten. Let me know how I'm doing.
--
Brynn Baker popped her gum, staring at the outside of her new house. A large, brick tudor with high ceilings and large white windows.
She wasn't complaining, but she had heard that it was once owned by one of the richest men in Toronto, who went to prison for rape, embezzlement, and bankruptcy. Not exactly the first, or the nicest thing you want to hear. Brynn opened the front door by its two large handles, slightly scared. She had lived in Toronto all her lift; just in an extremely small suburb before. She attended Degrassi from preschool to tenth grade, than left for a year with her mother. Now she was back for her senior year.
"Hello,"
Her voice echoed, bouncing against each wall of the house. She sighed and set her Louie Vittuon suitcase down, glancing up the marble suitcase.
"Hi!" a relatively squeaky voice said from behind her.
Turning around, a short, curly haired boy stood with his hand extended, smiling.
"JT Yorke, you're neighbor," he responded.
She was extremely beautiful, and JT was somewhat stunned. Don't drool. Don't drool, he thought, trying to stare away from the cleavage of her blue tanktop. Brynn was a pretty girl – plus it didn't hurt that her brown eyes could burn into your soul.
"Hi, nice to meet you," Brynn replied, smiling, yet denying him of his handshake.
"Did you just move her?" JT awkwardly improvised, smoothly placing his hand in his back pocket.
"No. Just switched houses. Why haven't I seen you around before?"
"Well, this isn't exactly what I call humble," he laughed, ignoring her comment about why she hadn't seen him around. JT couldn't help it that he was still a little dorky.
"Yeah, I guess not," Brynn blushed. She really didn't like to dwell on her mother's wealth, which was soulfully dependent on her two ex-husbands: her biological father, whom she had never met, and Franklin Jackson, the former Wall Street Millionaire in New York City (may he rest in peace), notorious for his backdoor wealth and skyrocketing business investments. Now her mother was presiding happily with a new husband, whom actually completed their family in a way Franklin never had.
"Well, I have to unpack and stuff, you know," Brynn mumbled, hoping to get J.T. away from her as she glided across the floor.
JT smiled and followed Brynn up the marble staircase, where they walked down a narrow white hallway. Brynn opened a door upstairs, peering into the long, wide white room. God, he's still here.
"Love this room," she said, doing a cartwheel on the white carpet.
"An acrobat!" JT said, clapping. "You should try out for the spirit squad once school starts, you'd make it for sure."
"I'll think about that," she said politely, smiling fakely. I already have, you moron.
"Well I gotta get going, but if you ever want to hang out, just let me know," JT said, pulling a pen out of his back pocket. He grabbed her hand and messily wrote his phone number in cursive, narrating the numbers.
"I gotta jet, but I'll see you around- grade 11?"
"Grade 12, actually,"
Oh that's so hot, she's a senior!
JT smiled goofily, trying to not completely drool over Brynn.
"It was a pleasure meeting you Mademoiselle," he said, kissing her hand.
"Nice meeting you too,"
Brynn smiled and watch him head back down the stairs, singing some song silently to himself. Nice kid…I guess. She walked over to the sliding glass door, walking onto her balcony. The sun shined brightly on her face, and she looked down her street, at most of the smaller houses.
It's good to be back.
--
"Craig," Joey asked, knocking on the door of the garage. Joey slowly entered, finding Craig sitting on the couch, writing with a pad and paper.
Craig let out a half smile, picking up his jacket for Joey to take a seat. Joey slowly sat next to him, propping his hands on his knees.
"The weddings coming up,"
"I know,"
"Look, it'll be hard, but please try to find someone to bring with you, okay?"
I'd rather go alone. In fact, I just need to get out of here in general.
--
Manny laid nervously on the edge of the bed, her stomach and lower chin pressed against a fluffy, pink and purple pillow. She bit her lip and stared at the phone, contemplating calling Craig's number. She didn't know why she wanted too so badly, she just did. It was like a burning fire inside her, compelling her to do it. Would Manny Santos ever really be over Craig Manning?
--
Craig flipped through the CDS at the music store, skimming the titles as Death Cab For Cutie blasted from the large, round earphones. He casually picked up a Clash CD, looking over the titles. As he read them he felt another body collide into his leather jacket from behind, causing him to drop the CD. Bending over to pick it up he bumped heads with the person's dark brown hair, temporarily blinded by their curls.
"Sorry," Brynn said, smiling and fixing her hair.
"Its okay Brynn," Craig said, folding his lip, smiling but frowning at the same time, very half-heartedly.
"Rock The Casbah – good song," she said, handing him back the CD, with friendly, wide eyes.
"Yeah, Clash is pretty good. Thanks," Craig replied.
"Well, see you at school Craig," she said, smiling and walking away. Craig watched her approach the register, dumping a pile of CDS on the counter.
Another guy skimmed an eye over Brynn as she slowly walked over to the register, keeping an eye on the tight Abercrombie jeans beneath her blue jacket with a ruffled edge and scattered, ripped holes.
Honestly, Craig didn't even bother to look at her as she walked away. He didn't bother to look at her short but shapely legs. He didn't bother to study her long, brown curls bouncing up and down, and how they fell on the lower torso of her hourglass figure. In fact, he didn't bother to look at any other girl, period. Because to him, Callie was still lively and well, waiting at home in his garage, her dishwater blonde hair spread out on his couch, and her gum popping carelessly out of her mouth.
Craig turned back to the disc player, pressing for the next song.
-
"Sorry that took so long," Brynn said, getting into Marco's car.
"No problem babe," he said, turning on the ignition.
"I bumped into Craig…literally," she laughed, checking the text messages on her cell phone.
B – DINNER FRI.? –SULLY
He's such a slime ball.
"Craig, wow, poor Craig…" Marco trailed, peering out his window for ongoing cars.
"Why are you poor Craig-ing him?"
"He's had a really rough year. Wow, come to think of it, his last two years have been really rough."
"Enlighten me," Brynn asked.
"Do you know Callie Taylor?"
"She was in my Journalism class a few years ago, she was really sweet. Cute girl," she pointed, unraveling a The Shins CD from its plastic.
"Yeah, well, Callie was his everything. And than…there was…an accident- and we don't really know what's going to happen to her. She's been in the hospital for a while,"
"That's horrible - I mean, back in grade eight Craig and I were pretty good friends, but things kind of drifted after his dad and all."
Yeah, now I feel like slime.
"Well Craig could use a good friend right now; as many as he can get."
"I don't know, would that be weird if I tried to talk to him?"
"No, I mean, just see if he wants to talk or something sometime,"
"Okay, give me his phone number, I really should give him a call sometime." Brynn picked up Marco's brand new phone, taking Craig's number out of his phonebook.
1-549…
--
Craig stepped into Callie's old room in his house, slowly sinking in the bare emptiness of the plainly decorated room. He walked over to the dresser, opening the drawer. The night she had angrily stormed out she had only take some of her belongings with her, but had left many things behind. Pulling out a soft purple Ralph Lauren polo, he started to cry. It was what she had been wearing the first time they had sex. He held it close to him, stroking the fabric, Lifting it to his face he held it in his hand, crying. Below it he noticed a silver piece of metal, and pushed a pair of socks to reveal a cell phone. Noticing the letters M A R C O stamped on a keychain hanging from the antenna, his eyes widened.
What is Callie doing with Marco's cell phone?
Than it hit him, like a large pile of his bricks. Drugs. Oh my god, she was probably going to sell it.
Craig shrugged, putting it back next to a pile of worn out jeans. Just pretend you never saw it. Pretend you never saw any of this.
Trying to forget about it he walked downstairs, plopping down on the couch in the living room. About a week to the wedding, oh boy. After about twenty minutes of trying to forget about things, thoughts started to flore Craig's mind once again.
I don't know how much longer I can take this, he thought, carelessly flipping through the channels on his TV. He looked at the TV clock timer again, wishing he could sleep. 1:23am. I miss her. She could be gone forever, as in, where my dad is gone. As in, where my baby is...both of them. As in, where my mom is. As in…where everyone I love is. Maybe I need to be there too.
"Craig," Angie murmured, standing at the bottom of the stairs, dragging Mr. Moo Moo by his long, black and white ear.
"Ang, why are you up?" Craig whispered, leaning over the side of the couch.
Angie walked closer, her pigtails falling out of their blue bows.
"I," she softly said, looking down. Craig flickered on a nearby light, seeing a tear in Angie's eye.
"What is it?" he said, stepping off the couch and putting a hand on her face.
"If Caitlin's our new Mommy, does that mean we have to forget about our old Mommy?" she said, her eyes turning a tearstained red.
"Angie, no," Craig said, pulling her into a hug. Picking her up she wrapped her legs around him, crying.
"Daddy always said he only loved Mommy. Did he lie?" Angie said, as Craig sat them both down on the couch.
How does he expect her to understand? Craig thought, while Angie climbed into a comfortable position in his lap.
"No, he didn't lie. Sometimes grown ups can love more than one person. Mom would've wanted Daddy to care for someone else the way he cared for her."
Angie wiped her face, ruffling it into Craig's shirt.
"Do you think daddy will still love us when he marries Auntie Caitlin?"
Craig kissed her head, tightening his grip around her. "Of course,"
"You still love me, right Craig?"
"Why would you say that Angela?" Craig said, slightly surprised.
"Because you always told Callie you loved her. And if daddy loves Caitlin, and you love Callie, who loves me?" Angie cried, hugging Mr. Moo Moo.
"Me. I always love you most," he said.
Craig sighed. This is going to be a very complicated thing.