i love holly j. The bitch holly j.

Remembering Declan was sort of embarrassing for a refined, classy, relentlessly beautiful—all of which according to herself—kind of woman like Holly J.

They had a big, and kind of over the top summer romance which including Fiona turning fucking crazy and Jane turning equally crazy, all of which held Holly J and Declan in the middle of the storm holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes. Declan was sweet. He had a way with words. He loved. (Or so he said) Years have passed, and Holly J isn't so sure of that summer of love.

She pondered this over her cup of coffee.

The whole family was a little warped.

Their mother liked to turn a blind eye to look into the face of glimmering money. Actually, she rather tended to turn a blind eye to everything which didn't suit her fancy. Such things included but weren't limited to; Degrassi in general, Holly J in general, the welfare of everything but the refined state of her shoes and family, her son's happiness, and, at that point, her daughter's struggle for personal responsibility.

Of course, she could remember Fiona, grabbing Declan by the neck and attacking him like a harpy. They sure didn't get along, and Holly J had assumed that they had patched things up by the time she had flown back to Canada. But she honestly wasn't sure.

Declan, the boy of her dreams, rich, luxurious houses and burning blue eyes.

There was something off about him, too.

"Did I keep you waiting?"

Peter slid into the seat quickly.

He looked, as usually, completely un-put together. Holly J's fashion sense twisted and wilted, yet somehow purred at the sight of him. Sure, his green and silver striped polo was kind of outdated for the season, and yeah, his keds had certainly seen some better days, but he somehow managed to pull the indie style off, lemon colored hair tousled around his face, breathless smile and all.

She shook her head. "No, of course not." She commented offhandedly. "Just because I've spent the last thirty minutes duck watching. Not people watching, not counting cars. Just getting to the point of boredom in which I intrigue myself with waddling animals."

He had the gall to look sheepish. "I'm really sorry, Holly J."

She shrugged it off. "Yeah, whatever. Now, why don't you entertain me before I start thinking of Blue again."

Ah, they were in their "off" phase.

Since high school, they broke up and hooked up with other people, only to eventually wander back to each other. Peter thought it all very weird.

"Well," Peter dug into his pockets. "I've got some tickets to what I hear is going to be a pretty posh opera…"

"Opera?" Holly J perked up. "Sounds exciting. Will there be cute boys with sex appeal?"

"I'd assume so." That, or old men and crowing, wrinkly wives. It was a hit or miss, really.

Holly J simmered at the thought. The red-head was really, seriously, meant for the life of luxury. What sucked terribly was her family's financial state. She said she was only staying at Toronto U until she could get her transcripts and transfer over to Yale. She certainly was smart enough… but Yale was a lot of money.

Talking to Holly J was really rather easy. Maybe Peter hung around her too much. He didn't ever talk to her in high school—thought she was kind of a bitch, really (funny how he was so spot on). Although her cat fights were readily amusing, there was something really frank and refreshing about her. She told it to you straight, that's for sure.

"So," The redhead began conversationally, wiping a bit of cream away from the spray of freckles on her cheeks from where she had accidentally gotten some. "Why are you so late, anyway?"

"Had to drop of Angel to her babysitter." The blonde replied, grabbing the black coffee with a fisted hand and drowning it down.

Holly J eyed him warily. "Uh. Disgusting?" She sniffed, stirring her own. "Who's the babysitter?"

Her real question, between paying for university and rent and food and gas and all sorts of things which probably took up his time to ridiculous amounts, where on earth did he get the money to pay for a babysitter?

"Fiona."

She almost spit out her drink.

"Fiona Coyne?" The woman echoed forlornly. "Like… Declan's sister?"

At the mention of the other twin, Peter flushed. "Yeah, that Fiona."

Holly J harrumphed. "Huh. Well I hope she's not mental anymore."

Peter cocked his head in confusion, but Holly J shrugged it off. "Wait, are you telling me that that… that, Fiona is your babysitter?" The redhead soldiered on. Peter nodded. Holly J scoffed. "And how does that work out?"

"Great I guess." The boy shrugged. "Fiona adores her. Makes her dresses and all sorts of clothes and I never have to buy anything like that." He chugged more caffeine. "Works for me."

Meanwhile, as he drowned his sorrows in java, Holly J pondered the twins which inevitably turned the summer of her Senior year on its head.

"Did I ever tell you we were best friends in senior year?"

"No?" Peter stirred his coffee idly.

"Yeah. I stole two thousand dollars from her to go to a cram school."

"Super friends, huh?"

"I dated her brother." Said Holly J, frank and a little whimsical about it. Staring off into the distance like she really didn't believe it ever happened.

This made Peter pause, and look up. "Oh?" His interest was, dare he say, piqued? "And how was that?"

"Awful." And then after a beat of silence. "Wonderful. But he wasn't what I wanted."

Peter wanted to point out that, in all the years he'd known Holly J, he never really thought she ever seemed to do what she wanted, but refrained. Of course, he was aware that Holly J plus Declan had happened at some point. But Holly J's usual retort when the subject of the posh transfer students of only one year were brought up was, "Oh, Declan." Like it explained everything in one smirking, but exasperated not-sentence.

"You still work at the Dot?" The red head asked abruptly, brushing a freckle-sprayed cheek with one hands.

Peter shrugged. "I pick up shifts here and there."

Peter wondered if Holly J had ever really moved on from Degrassi. Then again, who did? Shit happened there, all the fucking time. Dumb shit that seemed pretty outlandish and really, when he thought hard, really, really, stupid. They were crazy kids. Maybe their lives really were best in high school. He didn't want to think like that, even though here he was, still working at the Dot, still looking fondly at the Degrassi St. sign, still in Canada.

Still not moving.

X o x

Angel looked a lot like her older half brother. It could be the artless quality to her near-sentient looking mess of hair, like down on her head and down her shoulders. Or the way she moved through the Coyne house like a wraith, floating through the white washed walls, like a ghost, or even a house elf.

Fiona was delving into the art of flower arranging, talking—lecturing—to a little blonde girl who had wandered off some time ago, leaving the fashionista to blubber on into the echoing silence with no one to listen to her. Peter was, well, Declan assumed he was at school. Or working, or whatever he did for the day. The Coyne heir kind of felt sorry for the guy. His father was a shut out who did what he liked, kicking his little girl to the curb in a way that Declan supposed had been in similar fashion to Peter's early life.

And here he was, twenty… two? Three? A year older then Declan.

It must suck. Being saddled with a kid—not even having the sex to appreciate it—being stuck, tethered down, ugh.

Needless to say, Declan had spent most of his adult life doing whatever he liked. VP of his father's company, which mostly entailed forwarding work to his secretaries, attending meetings every once in a while, keeping tabs on the market and the stocks. Discussing with dim-witted shareholders. Fiona was his rock, his sister and what he always deemed to be the other half of himself, was enamored with Canada. With Degrassi. So he went. His latest conquest, however, was stationed in Paris. So he went there.

No obligations.

"Declan?"

His sister's voice called through the halls.

He turned from the balcony, burrowed in the depths of his rooms.

He walked out, into the open living room next to his bedrooms, and then out into the main part of the house. He was mildly surprised to see Angel staring up at him with wide, fearless eyes, holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Fiona said flowers cure sadness." She began conversationally, holding a fistful of flowers she most likely tore from Fiona's flower arranging ceremonies.

Declan took them with as much grace as he could. "Fiona is idealistic."

"Fiona is exciting!"

Probably a new vocabulary word. Angel usually made it a point to try to act smart around him, using big words that hardly ever fit the topic at hand. He thought it amusing anyway.

"That she is." He agreed.

"My name's Dinosaur."

"Yeah?"

He wondered when Fiona would come pattering around the corner.

"I'm a boy."

"I see."

"Cause boy's are tough."

"That they are."

"Since I'm a boy, if I kick you it'll hurt."

"I think it'd hurt regardless." Declan supposed aloud, before turning his attention to the young restless ball of energy. "However, kicking if very unbecoming for a lady."

"I'm not a lady!" Angel insisted. "I'm a boy! My name's Dinosaur!"

"Dinosaur?"

Declan looked up, Peter pushing the door open, one hand fighting to get his faulty key out of their lock. Angel seemed to lose all interest in explaining to him how she had changed genders suddenly in an attempt to cause physical pain to him, and had instead leapt into her brother's arms, said brother looking like he was searching for an opportune moment to drop her and sink to the floor in exhaustion.

"Dinosaur isn't even a name, sprog." Peter tapped her nose. His face looked drawn and sleepy, however.

"Sure it is!" She tapped him back, but it looked a little more like she was attempting to face palm him. "It's a boy name! Because I'm a boy!"

The blonde seemed to give in to exhaustion, easing Angel down until her toes could wiggle onto the floor, looking even more ready to collapse. "What do they teach you in school?" He sighed, in resignation.

"Nothing very interesting. " She answered. "But that's okay. Staring tomorrow, Bella is gonna teach me how to be a ninja."

"That's… great?" Maybe Angel hung out with the wrong crowd at school. Maybe not. But right now, Peter was a little to tired to be concerned.

"Why don't you take a nap or something?" Declan's voice was soft, and, maybe empathetic? Peter reeled in surprise anyway. "It's not like we don't have a shortage of beds… or couches, or, carpets, I guess, if you're into the whole floor thing."