Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi.

AN: Alright! You guys did it - 12 reviews in less than a day. Less than 12 hours, actually. Pretty nice.

Here's the chapter 6! It was originally part of chapter 7 but I felt like it was a bit awkward there, so...

Anyway, to the person who asked (I can't respond to un-signed reviews which is a shame because they're lovely just the same) cisgender basically means "not transgender." Google would be good for a more in-depth definition with context and why it's important to have a word that means "not transgender."

Also, you guys should totally check out the poll I put up on my profile. It's about Adam-pairings (since so many of you seem to be interested in that). It won't dictate anything in the story, per se, but it WOULD be extremely helpful for me to get an idea of where you guys are at.

drevil99 and TwistedRaver beta'd this chapter and then they SLAYED A DRAGON.

Warnings: You're this far in, you should know about most of the awful things I do here by now. Nothing particularly bad in this chapter, though, I don't think...

Adam knew he was staring.

He didn't really care, though.

Class started ten minutes ago and Bianca hadn't so much glanced at him once.

It was almost like-

No.

She was absolutely avoiding him.

Adam allowed himself a smirk and continued to stare, willing her eyes towards him.

At first he'd been nervous about seeing her. He kept replaying their fight in his mind. How cold it was at the park and the way her words had cut him so deep and the sneer that twisted her beautiful face into something cruel and ugly.

She told him he was weak. That he didn't stand up for himself.

She hated that, she'd said.

Hated him, he'd been left to assume.

What now, Bianca? He thought, eyes locked on her profile. Do you hate me more or less with my fist in Fitz's face?

She'd been there, behind the Dot when Fitz and Owen decided to try to start something with Eli. She saw. No doubt, she saw; she was the one to break it up.

Do you still think I'm weak?

He thought about the fight.

His lip throbbed.

Oh, God, the fight.

Adam was no stranger to violence.

It was just that, up until yesterday, he'd been on the receiving end.

Only on the receiving end.

He finally looked away from Bianca to cast his gaze on his bruised knuckles. He flexed them slowly, smiling at the sharp sting of pain the action caused. God, the look on Fitz's face when Adam slammed his fist against the taller boy's cheek. The noise Owen had made when Adam kicked him in the nuts.

He'd never felt anything quite like the surge of adrenaline he'd walked away with yesterday.

No skateboard trick, no kiss from a pretty girl; nothing felt like yesterday.

It was so simple. So primal.

Fitz and Owen had come at him. But he was the one to walk off.

Sure, his chest ached twice as badly today; the lingering pain from the blow Fitz had landed on his sternum stacked painfully on top of the pressure of his bandages. And, yeah, he'd been interrogated by his mother last night (thank god, she bought the dodgeball story).

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall; flexing his hands again and again; retreating back into yesterday. Wrapping himself up in that feeling of triumph that was so alien to him.

"I said, fuck off," Bianca's sharp voice brought him out of his reverie.

Clarence Dewey had his hand around her forearm. Bianca was leaning as far away as she could get, a disgusted look curling her lip.

"C'mon, baby," Dewey murmured slimily.

Adam grimaced, glancing around the room for the teacher.

Of course Menard had stepped out for his "secret" cigarette break in the faculty bathroom.

Adam stood up from the wall, slowly.

Fuck.

"Get off me, you fucking bastard," Bianca snapped, sharp note of panic in her voice as she tore herself loose from Dewey's grasp. She took a few quick steps toward the door, but the bully followed undeterred.

"What, I'm supposed to think you're frigid now?" Dewey mocked. "You were practically begging for my cock last week-"

"You shut your fucking mouth," Bianca whirred around, finger in his face. "I swear-"

Dewey grabbed her hand, pulling her body against his. "What?"

Adam's fury bubbled up his chest. It made his head swim and his stomach churn violently.

"Hey," he called, blatantly ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that said this was a bad idea.

Their heads snapped toward him.

Dewey looked at first shocked, then amused, then offended.

Bianca just scowled.

"The fuck do you want, Torres?" Dewey spat.

Adam's fists curled at his sides. He wanted to vomit. Or to run away.

Actually, mostly he wanted to hit Dewey right in his big, idiot mouth.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Adam demanded, not having a chance to think about the words before they slipped past his lips.

It was then he noticed that the class had fallen dead silent.

Everyone was watching them.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Adam swallowed and forced his eyes to remained locked on Dewey's.

"Excuse me?" Dewey's voice was a dangerous whisper as he stepped forward threateningly.

Adam closed his eyes, taking a slow deep breath before looking back up at Dewey.

"I want to know what the hell you think you're doing," Adam repeated, voice steady despite the rapid speed of his heartbeat and God, he really felt like throwing up, "putting your hands on a girl like that."

"I think you're confused, bro," Clarence Dewey shot a sidelong glance at Bianca. "That ain't no girl, that's a fucking slut."

Adam sneered. "You're fucking pathetic, man."

"Yeah?" he asked stepping forward. His breath was warm and smelt like cinnamon gum and weed.

"Get out of my face," Adam ordered quietly, feeling his whole body tense.

"Or what-?"

Adam raised his arms up, shoving Dewey roughly.

The larger boy stumbled back a few steps, a look of shock briefly taking over his features.

A loud series of murmurs rose from those in the class that were watching.

Dewey looked up; face morphing from open shock to a cruel smile.

"Oh?"

He shot forward, shoving Adam back with strength he didn't anticipate.

Adam was on the ground before he knew what was happening; elbows banging painfully against the wood floor, air knocked from his lungs by the force of Dewey's hands against his chest. The pressure of the bandages seemed almost unbearable but he fought to keep the pain off his face and to normalize his breathing.

Dewey stood over him, sneering.

"What now, boy?"

Now you give up. You go back to the corner and pray to God that he doesn't come after you outside of class now. Christ, how could you be this damn stupid? What the fuck are you trying to prove? This guy could murder you, you fucking idiot.

Adam pushed himself up from the floor shakily.

Dewey shoved him again, palms crashing into Adam's shoulders viciously.

Adam stumbled backward but kept himself upright.

Dewey stepped closer so that they were nose to nose again; emphasizing his height.

Adam held his gaze defiantly.

The tension in the room rose palpably.

Then the door cracked open.

"Hey!" Menard called, clapping his hands rapidly. "Break it up, break it up."

Dewey rolled his eyes and took a step back.

The room was utterly silent.

"What is going on here?" Menard demanded.

"Nothing," Adam said quietly.

Menard cast him a doubtful glance but moved on after a moment. "Okay! Everyone pair up! Remember, today is the day we start our unit on Ballroom dancing! Keep that in mind when choosing your partners."

Adam's gaze drifted to Bianca. She stared at him, one arm drawn around her midsection, as if shielding herself.

He took a couple quick steps and stopped in front of her.

"Bianca."

What the hell are you doing?

"What?" she frowned.

"I choose you as my partner," he said simply.

"What are you, grade seven?" she mocked.

"Hey, hey, wait," Dewey stepped up behind him, putting a heavy hand on his shoulder. "She's dancing with me."

Adam stepped out from under his grip without so much as a second glance. He held his hand out to her. "C'mon."

She hesitated, eyes darting between the two of them.

"Bianca," Dewey started.

She grabbed Adam's hand and allowed him to pull her to a different part of the room.

"Don't get any ideas, Torres," she whispered.

Adam rolled his eyes.

"Let's just get this out of the way," he started, turning to look her in the eye. "We both know you only chose me because I'm considerably more well-washed than Clarence."

Bianca laughed shortly.

"Just watch your paws, Casanova."

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-X

When the bell rang Adam slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed toward the door. He was stopped by a hand on his elbow.

He turned around, expecting an irate Clarence Dewey; shocked to find Bianca De Sousa holding him back; lips pursed as if she had a mouthful of something sour.

He allowed himself to be led into a dark corner of the classroom.

"Look," she started. "I don't need to be fucking rescued, so if that's your angle-"

Adam laughed bitterly, holding a hand up to as if it would stop the flow of words from her mouth. "God, seriously?"

She scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Does it ever get a little hard to see, Bianca?" Adam asked bitterly. "I mean, with your head up your ass all the time?"

She stared at him for a long tense moment.

"Man, what the fuck is your deal, Torres?"

"Look," he said, taking a step back from her, "I wasn't trying to 'rescue' you or whatever bullshit you seem to think. Clarence Dewey is an asshole. Wanna know something? You were right, yesterday. I let everyone walk all over me."

She was staring at him in raptly, only the ghost of her usual disdain apparent on her face. He straightened his shoulders, basking in the hot glow of her attention.

"I'm done with that," he breathed.

"Whatever," she said, shaking her head and stepping past him.

"Wanna know something else?" he asked over his shoulder, not turning to look at her.

When the clack of her footsteps on the ground ceased he knew she was listening.

"You're kind of an asshole, too," he continued casually. "My problems don't mean shit to you. I don't mean shit to you. That's fine. I thought about that, today. I thought I could try being like you – try not caring."

He turned slowly and took a step toward her.

"It didn't work. 'Cause, see, I do give a shit," he said. "It's not called 'rescuing' you or anything like that. It's called being a decent person."

She glared at him as he brushed past her to walk out the door.

"You might want to try it sometime," he tossed over his shoulder.

He paused outside the door, breathing deeply, trying to process the whirlwind of emotion muddling his thoughts.

It didn't feel quite like yesterday.

But it still felt sort of like winning.

AN: I don't know. I worry about getting Bianca right - think I've still got some work to do. Know who DOESN'T suck at Bianca? PeachesNaughtyCream. Go read things she writes - they're much, much better.

Also! Please review! I like to know what you think about the words I put here!

-Orange