I am two weeks late with my update oh god I am so sorry. Finals are coming up and I had interviews and auditions and ugh. For the time being, updates are being exclusively moved to sometime over weekends only. Anywhere between Friday-Sunday. I can't crank out two good chapters a week on this busy schedule. My apologies – enjoy!
This chapter is really sad. The last half kind of lacks dialogue because it would have been 10000000 words and boring if I wrote it out like a conversation.
Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi, or A Match Onto Water by Pierce the Veil
I kissed the scars on her skin, I still think you're beautiful, and I don't ever want to lose my best friend. I screamed out, "God, you vulture, bring her back or take me with her!"
Clare
The shock of Fiona's death was traumatizing to all of Degrassi. Even across a campus of over a thousand students – just the loss of one was enough to create a void. Seeing crying people in the hallway became a common occurrence, and moments of silence even more so. But what got to me was, most of the people didn't even know her, and yet they were sad over somebody they didn't even know. But I know that it wasn't because they didn't know her; it was because she was gone for good.
Play rehearsals continued, but they were never the same. There was no bubbly Fiona to brighten our spirits, or give us nods of approval when Jake had used to yell at us. She always had something positive to say, even if there was nothing positive about it. A mistake meant to try again, and every completed scene was a job well done. Never in my life had I ever believed Fiona to be something on the inside that she wasn't on the outside. She just looked so happy.
But when I found out she had ended her life, I knew otherwise.
I spent most of my time with Eli, because he was the only person who seemed to understand. He had lost a friend once in middle school to suicide. They had come from a broken home and their father was thoroughly abusive to them, and one day they just couldn't take it anymore. Eli told me that afterwards, the boy's father had changed his ways and had gone to rehab, went back to college, and made something of himself. But he never remarried nor had another child, because the one he had lost could never be replaced.
The one thing I couldn't understand was why. Why did she do it? Why did she succumb to the pain?
And mostly, why didn't she tell me?
I wonder if there was something I could have done. I know that sitting here in the corner of my room with all the lights off, and a pile of tissues scattered in a circle around me was not the proper way to remember Fiona. But I just couldn't stop crying, because I felt like I could have done something to make her not kill herself. I wish she would have told me. I was probably the last person to see her alive. I tried to reach out to her, but I didn't want to force it. A part of me wonders what would have happened if I did force it. If I had driven her home and stayed with her. Maybe Fiona wouldn't have killed herself. Maybe I wouldn't feel so guilty.
But now she is gone, and I realize that there is nothing I can do about it.
So I throw my tissues away, get up off of the floor, and think of ways for her memory to continue. Nobody deserves to be forgotten, and I will make it my mission to make sure Fiona is never buried among forgotten memories.
School was a blur; I know that it usually is, and right now for most people it is blurred with tears. But for me, it was blurred with the desire to avenge.
Without thinking, I found myself in Simpson's office. He looked at me oddly, no doubt questioning my determination. "Mr. Simpson," I said, welcoming myself in and sitting in one of his two chairs in front of his desk.
"Mrs. Edwards," he responded, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"
"I want to build a garden in memory of Fiona Coyne," I deadpanned.
Mr. Simpson pursed his lips, "Clare, you can't just say you want something done. It requires resources, volunteers, and most importantly, money."
"But surely we can find the funds to build a garden for her? She would like that. She likes," I paused, "liked flowers." I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Mrs. Edwards, I knew her too. I can understand your wanting to make Miss Coyne's mark on this school so that she can never be forgotten, but we simply do not have the funds to do so." My heart fell.
"What can we do to get the money?" I asked.
"Mrs. Edwards, it is November. We just had homecoming, and Christmas activities are coming up, and then we prepare for prom. Not much leeway to create an additional fundraiser for Student Counsel to worry about." Mr. Simpson elaborated, clasping his hands together.
"Surely we can do something," I said desperately.
"If you can supply the funds, then be my guest. I will get various clubs to help build if you can get the money. I'm sure that Katie Matlin would be happy to collaborate with you on ideas," Mr. Simpson suggested, including the student body president. I made a mental checklist, and inquiring the help of the most important person in the school just made top priority.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Simpson." I quickly sat up, grabbing my bag and rushed out, but before I crossed the threshold, his voice rang behind me, "Clare," I turned, "I miss her too. Good luck," he said. I nodded, and walked out of the office calmly.
Upon reaching my locker, I am approached by Eli, who snakes both of his arms around my waist and cuddles into my neck, placing a solitary kiss on my shoulder, then my cheek. I turned to him, smiled weakly, and evaporated into his arms, sobbing softly, as he ran his fingers through my hair and kissed my forehead.
I pulled back and looked into his beautiful emerald eyes, and he smirked at me. "Hey," I said quietly. He murmured a "Hi," and leaned in for a kiss. He tilted his head slightly, never taking his eyes off of me, and grasped my hips softly as he captured my lips in a slow, loving kiss. His hair tickled my face slightly as it brushed against me, and I placed my hands on his shoulders, welcomed by the cool touch of his leather jacket and the warm feel of his hands on me. He leaned his forehead against mine as he pulled away, slipping his thumbs into the loops on my jeans, and running his fingers over my skin under my shirt that covered my hips. My skin grew goose bumps at the feeling of contrast between his warm hands and cool rings. This boy was always a contradiction of warm and cool, and I loved it.
"Are you okay?" Eli asked.
"I'm alright; just paid a visit to Simpson." I said, playing with the hair at the bottom of his neck.
"About?" He asked.
"I want to build a garden in Fi's memory," I inquired, looking down for a moment, and looked up to be met with the same green eyes that I loved so much.
"How did that go?" Eli asked, running his fingers over my skin again, making it hard for me to concentrate.
"He said that we didn't have the funds, so if I am able to collect the money, he will supply volunteers," I responded.
"How do you suppose we get the money?" He raised his eyebrows.
I huffed out a breath, biting my bottom lip in thought, "I don't know." I said.
"Why don't you put an announcement up? Like ask Marisol to ask for donations for the Fiona Coyne Society?" Eli suggested.
"I like your idea, although I might change the name of the charity. I don't think Fi would approve either," I tried to say in a joking manner. Eli smirked a little.
"And what do you suggest we name it?" He joked back, smirking and his eyes smoldering. My stomach twisted sharply and I fought the urge to gasp at the sudden desire to drag him into a dark room and jump his bones.
"H-how about the In Memory of Fiona Coyne Association?" I proposed. Eli squinted his eyes, thinking, and pursed his lips.
"I don't think she would want to be remembered as the girl who committed suicide, either," he said.
"Then what do you suggest?" I asked.
"How about It Gets Better?" Eli raised his eyebrows.
"I like that." I said simply.
"I think Fiona would too." He answered.
"Then it's settled," I said, "Now how do we raise money?" I asked.
"I think donations would be good to start, but if we need to, we can do like a Charity Walk or something." Eli said.
"Perfect," I responded, smiling.
"You're perfect," he whispered. I kissed him again, and the bell that dismissed people to lunch rang. I kissed Eli again.
"Want to play hooky for the rest of the day and go to Lowe's to get an idea of how much money we will need to buy all the things to build the garden? And look at flowers?" Eli suggested.
"Lead the way, darling," I said, giggling, "But first, let me drop off the announcement at the news room. Then let's get out of here." I smiled, and Eli grasped my hand and intertwined our fingers, as we ran off in the direction of the news room, and I wrote quickly out on a piece of paper my announcement, then Eli and I snuck out the back door of the auditorium and drove off.
Eli and I spent the rest of the day until Lowe's closed the doors at 10. We sat in the outdoors section with all of the gazebos and comfy chairs, with a notebook and two pencils. We sat there planning on how to create the garden. Nothing too plain, but nothing to extraordinary; but Fiona was an extra, extraordinary person, so we have to represent it right in order to reflect her. She liked modern, yet antique; like things you find in an in-the-wall outlet store that are made of tarnished copper, but are elegant enough that it could be the centerpiece of her modern loft. It had to be done right.
After about an hour, we finally agreed upon a plan for the garden. We knew that there was an area around the school that was at a smaller incline than the rest of the school; like a giant object fell into the sky and just created a crater in the ground, and then just disappeared. Through interactions with Bullfrog's friends, we can get the concrete foundation done for free, and he also knows someone we can contact about the piping, because Eli and I really wanted to have a fountain. But that was for later on, because we still had to make a rough list of supplies that we need for the garden itself.
On the bottom of the crater, after the concrete is set down, Eli and I found this fountain that looked like black, flat rocks with water seeping through the cracks. The rocks were shaped like a volcano with no hole at the top, and the water cascaded down the side like lava. We are attaching the fountain to a pond – which we have decided NOT to put fish in, because fish require food and care and if they die, they have to be taken out, and that seems like way too much work.
The fountain will be in the center of a square, and four stone paths will lead at an elevated angle from the square into each of the cardinal directions. On the right of each path, will be three elevated boxes that all have flowers and plants in them. The idea is really complex, and thinking about where to put everything was starting to give me a headache. Imagining it in my head and having Eli draw it out on paper were two conflicting ideas, and it made me wince when he inquired about a price range. How do we know what we need? I have never done this before. Eli said he used to work with some of Bullfrog's friends in landscaping, so he has an idea on how to get things done, but we may need some help getting it accomplished. I took a deep breath, and he rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb and gave me an encouraging look that said, "We can do this," so I made a personal vow to persevere. This was my impulsive decision – to avenge Fiona and everything, and I was going to go through with it.
"Clare, we have time, and I'm sure that we can talk to someone to help us," Eli suggested, "Maybe somebody knew the Coyne family and can help us out price wise. They can donate the supplies." I bit my lip absentmindedly in thought.
"Eli, I can't ask a major corporation to donate an unknown amount of supplies to build a garden for our dead friend. It could take thousands of dollars!" I exclaimed, "I want to get this done as soon as possible, so that we can remember Fiona for as long as she deserves to be, which is forever, because she shouldn't be forgotten. I won't let her be forgotten!" Tears started to come to my eyes, and I hastily wiped them away. Eli placed a hand on my face and rubbed his thumb on my cheek. He leaned over and pressed his lips to my forehead, and stretched his arm out around my shoulders.
"The most expensive things are the things done right," he answered calmly, "If we want this to be good, we have to settle for nothing less than the best; settle for nothing below what we think Fiona deserves. We need quality, and if that means it cost thousands more than what it would if we got the cheapest supplies, so be it. We can raise the money. It doesn't have to be done right now. We can plan and collect funds for a year before we start building. What is your rush? It isn't like Fiona is going to come back in two weeks and we need to get this done. Clare, please remember that she isn't coming back." I gasped at that. I felt anger rise inside me, but I pushed it down, and it was only replaced with more tears. Eli was right; Fiona was gone, and the best I could do to remember her was build her a garden, because I knew she would want something like that.
If I could do any better, I would bring her back.
But no, I'm sitting in Lowe's, surrounded by the smell of wood and industrial cleaner, and the coldness of the hard concrete floors, wrapped in the arms of my boyfriend and crying over the suicide of one of my best friends.
Fi, if you can see me right now, please know that I miss you. I whispered a secret prayer under my breath so Eli couldn't hear me. I cuddled deeper into his shoulder and my tears subsided. Eli was right. We had time; we didn't need time; we had time, and I was going to make the best of every single second.
We spent the rest of the day in Lowe's. We found a guy named Marcus, a middle aged man who was tall and muscular with a friendly smile and radio show host type voice, and he had known the Coyne family. He also happened to be the general manager of the store. It was really nice of him to walk around with us, helping us find the best things at the best price.
"And don't you worry," Marcus said, "You kids pick out everything you need or want, and place it in this shopping cart; whether it is only one, or two, or six. I will place it in the warehouse for safe keeping. Pick your plants too – we have a private nursery that can grow them special for you. I knew Fiona well. She used to come in here and talk to me about flowers for hours. Nice girl. It is a shame that she did what she did."
We told Marcus of our plan, and he picked out 12 frames that we could place on different elevations of ground to give the step-garden look that we wanted; three on all four sides. We didn't even bother putting them in the shopping cart because they were so long that it would be a hassle to drag around with us. Marcus just talked into his walkie-talkie and these two guys came out of nowhere like Oompa Loompas in Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, and they swiftly picked up what we needed and disappeared again.
We shopped for pond accessories, including generics like the actual pond liner, which kind of looked like a giant bathtub, the seaming tape, a cool nozzle set to change the flow of the water, the motor to keep the water moving, a light that attaches to the nozzle and changes color according to hours of the day, a heron statue that spits water, this magic ball looking thing that floats in the pond and acts as a cleaner - absorbing all the algae particles. It just needs to be changed about once a month to keep it clean. I specifically found a square floating garden bin that I want to put some orchids in.
I picked out a cedar bench and two trellises. One was tall and made of squares like a checkerboard. The other was smaller and had the same checkerboard design but it had a plant box in front of it. I wanted to put roses in the box and grow the roses out onto the trellis. In the end, it would be like this giant rose bush that is intertwined in a giant trellis. Marcus also pointed out that we needed tools, so he grabbed 5 plant pruning shears, 3 shovels, and 3 rakes.
The plants were one thing we didn't entirely agree on: "I think we should have a color scheme!" I said, but Eli shook his head, "Fi was irrational and crazy. I don't think it should be themed at all." I really didn't want to argue with him over something so petty, so I looked at Marcus and he acted as mediator. He led us over to all the flowers and told us to go through and write down all the ones we liked, and then go back and eliminate the ones we don't like as much as others.
In the end, we agreed on a cherry blossom tree (Eli's suggestion), and a large assortment of flowers, including the Eureka Canna Lily, Luna Blush Hibiscus, Asiatic Lilies, every color of peony imaginable, Sioux Water Lilies for the pond, Society Garlic (an odd name for a flower - it just looks like long grass with a small purple flower on top) to surround the pond, 3 white orchids to go in the floating box in the pond, assorted colors of daisies including red, orange, yellow, and purple. One mixed cacti plant, and a whole bunch of mixed daffodils.
Eli also said to get this liquid concentrate of plant food that you mix with water, and it would help the plants grow and stay healthy. He said to trust his instincts, so I just let him get it. He also said to buy spearmint, which at first I wasn't sure if he was inquiring on my breath, but then he caught himself and stated that they help repel insects. I joked that we could just plant a piece of 5 Gum. He wasn't amused at first, but his poker face gave way and he chuckled before saying that he had some extra seeds in the garage at home and CeCe wouldn't mind if they took them.
Marcus sat down with us and we calculated the numbers. Roughly, the total came to about $4230.55. My eyes widened and Eli whistled as if an atomic bomb was falling from the sky. This is what I was afraid of. This atomic price was going to explode on all my hopes.
"I see how dedicated you are to this," Marcus said, "Which is why I'm going to cut you a deal." I perked up my ears and waited.
"I'm giving you 30% off the whole ticket. Which brings you to just under three thousand dollars. My heart expanded and I almost tackled Marcus, but settled for a wide smile, a rough shake of the hand, and saying "Thank you," a million times. Eli held his hand on the small of my back, as if he could feel me shaking. I liked when he did things like this, because he knew that I was close to my emotional end. Marcus assured that everything we picked out would be safely kept away, and as soon as we were done, he was going to place in the order personally with the nursery for our plants. I thanked him once more, and told him that we would be in touch. Eli shook his hand like any man would and I looked at him and realized what a prize of a boyfriend I had.
Eli and I walked out of Lowe's hand in hand, swinging our arms back and forth as we stepped. It was cold out, and I clutched my jacket closer to myself. Noticing this, Eli removed his hand from mine and instead wrapped his arm around my shoulders; curling me into his side.
He opened my door for me as he usually does, and when he got into the car, he pulled me into his arms and happily kissed me. He held my chin with one hand, and rested the other on my thigh. His lips were warm and every time he moved them, I felt an electric current pass through me, leaving a warm shiver in my body and desire in my heart. I kissed him back with fervor, curling my fingers into his hair. He slipped his tongue over my bottom lip, and I granted him access enthusiastically. He grazed his tongue all around my mouth, but pulled away all too soon. Leaning his forehead against mine, his eyes were shining in the low lights of early evening. This is when his eyes were the brightness. The only other time they were this bright were when it was completely dark outside that night we scoped out Imogen and Jake. It was like a creature was looking at me from the darkness of night; the color of their eyes luminous next to the surrounding darkness. That is what looking in Eli's eyes at night was like. It was like I was hunted; I was desired; and I loved it.
My face downcast – I was struck with a feeling of sadness. I missed Fiona.
"What is wrong, babe?" Eli sensed my change of emotion.
"I miss her," I whispered.
"I miss her too, Clare. It has only been a few weeks. Imagine how you will feel after years. But it does get better. You learn to remember the good things versus the bad," he said, rubbing my back with his hands, sending shivers through my body again.
"Do you think we will make her proud?" I asked quietly, like a child would.
"I think she will be ecstatic. Now let's build her a motherfucking garden." I laughed, and Eli drove off from the Lowe's parking lot into the chilly night of Toronto.
End of Chapter