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Disclamer: I do not own Degrassi...just Lena, Reese, and James (if you have any nicknames for James...review with them)

Chapter 9: Time

Lena walks into the seventh grade classroom, her books close to her chest—she was moved up another grade in both English and math—and finds a seat in the back of the classroom.

"Class settle down, we have a new student. Would you like to introduce yourself?" The teacher gestures to the front of the classroom and Lena stands up, smoothes out her violet dress, and makes her way to the front of the classroom. She straightens up her matching headband and then situates herself in the front of the classroom. "Well, tell us your name and something about yourself."

Lena takes in a deep breath—two years after the fact she still finds it hard to speak to people outside of her family, "I'm Lena Torres. I like to read, my favorite book I've read is…I'd say is a tie between Stendhal's The Red and The Black, or William Golding's Lord of the Flies."

The students look around to each other, none of them knowing what either of the books she just said. Then they start to giggle, causing Lena to blush and hurry back to her seat. When she gets to her seat she shrinks down and pulls her binder closer to her then doodles on a sheet of paper she has on the cover. She drowns out what the teacher says, until she hears…

"Partner up…your work will be due at the end of the class."

She looks up and notices everyone has already paired up. Premade partners because of friends. She sighs and opens up her binder to a new sheet of paper. The chair next to her moves and she jumps a little bit before turning around. The boy who sits next to her wears a pair of jeans and a Black Veil Brides tee-shirt. His hair is a chocolate brown and his eyes a deep set pair of onyx orbs. Lena brushes her bangs out of her eyes and she smiles.

"So, do you know what we're supposed to be doing?" he asks her.

She turns to him and smiles lightly, "No clue. I…sort of got lost in my imagination."

He smiles, "Me too." he replies, opening his binder and then looking up at her.

"Uh…what are you looking at?" she asks, turning down to her binder.

"Nothing. So…" he turns to the board, "we're working on…favorite poets…"

Lena smiles, "Okay."

"Who's yours?" he asks.

"Who's yours?" she replies.

"On three?"

"One…"

"Two…"

"Emily Dickenson." they both say.

"What?" she asks.

"You like her too?" he replies.

"Yeah…my mom, a few years ago back when I was six, she would read a poem a night to me and my siblings." she tries not to choke when she says siblings, but a tear still falls down her cheek.

Trying not to notice the tear the boy smiles, "So we need to recite our favorite poem. Which one is yours?"

"Uh…I'd say…

My cocoon tightens, colors tease, I 'm feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings, Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be, The aptitude to fly, Meadows of majesty concedes, And easy sweeps of sky. So I must baffle at the hint, And cipher at the sign, And make much blunder, if at last I take the clew divine.

What about yours?"

"Mine's…

If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin, Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.

Like you my mom read me the poems." he smiles.

"So…do we choose just one?" she asks him to which he shrugs.

"Well, honestly…yours is a little depressing."

She sighs, "I know."

He rolls his eyes, "So, mine then?"

She nods sullenly. When the teacher finally gets the class to settle down she calls the groups up. When she gets to Lena's group both Lena and her partner walk to the front of the class.

"So, what poet did you choose?" the teacher asks.

"Well, we elected to choose Emily Dickenson." Lena responds trying to stand still.

"Why is that?" the teacher asks.

"Well, I think both of us can agree that her poetry..helped us become who we are…or decide who we want to become." her partner responds, shooting her a small smile to which she bows her head down to hide her pinkening cheeks.

"Which poem did you choose?"

He looks to Lena who nods him on saying he can say the poem. "We chose…

My cocoon tightens, colors tease, I 'm feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings, Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be, The aptitude to fly, Meadows of majesty concedes, And easy sweeps of sky. So I must baffle at the hint, And cipher at the sign, And make much blunder, if at last I take the clew divine."

The teacher smiles, Lena stares at him agape, and the class claps. They walk back to their desks.

At the same time, in James' first grade classroom the class goes out for recess. He sits still, quiet, and buries his head in his arms on top of the wooden desk.

"You okay?" a voice asks. James' head shoots up and he smiles to the warm smile of his classmate, Micah.

James nods.

"You coming out to the playground? We're going to play some basketball."

James shrugs, "Nah…I don't think so."

Micah sighs at his friend, "Okay."

Finally alone again James closes his eyes. Even at six years old he knows that he should be outside. that life doesn't end the way one would hope. Things change at a moment's notice. That, even though you can try to stay in your norm, not everything will. Change happens. He stares down at his feet, the white converse covered in drawings that Lena, Camille, and him had done back right after Camille had gotten out of the hospital the first time. One the front part of the shoes, the little plastic parts that cover the toes, when both are put together they read "The sun will shine, but never as bright as you…Cami." It had been Lenny's idea to write something that had personified Camille, something sweet and simple. This little statement, written on a pair of shoes James was quickly outgrowing, was Cami. It wasn't something to personify her. It was her. And it would always be her to them.

Clare rocks Reese to sleep in the rocking chair. It's the room next to hers and Drew's. She didn't think about touching Camille's room. She couldn't come to step foot in the room. Every time she passed she felt like she could hear Camille's laughter filling the room behind the closed door, or her pencils tapping the desk as she draws or writes. But, no, those sounds cease whenever Clare draws closer to the door. Once a week she finds herself not being able to sleep and then going into the bathroom, sitting on the floor hugging her legs to herself, and silently crying. Drew's even almost caught her twice. But, she's been able to get out of there, passing it off as bad cramps or a reaction to the book she's been reading. As she lowers Reese into the crib she gets the feeling again. The feeling that people usually get on roller coasters. The feeling that your stomach is flipping, your insides growing and shrinking, your heart falls, you get a lump in your throat. She carefully backs out of the room and goes into the bathroom. She sits with her head inbetween her legs and lets the tears fall.

"Clare." A knock comes from the door.

Her head shoots up, but she stays still.

"Clare, what's going on?" Drew's voice calls through again.

She stands up, "Nothing Drew." she runs the faucet and then turns it off before exiting the bathroom. When she gets out Drew's leaning on the dresser.

"Just tell me." he sighs.

She crosses her arms and plants her feet on the ground. "What?"

"Clare, ever since…"

She cuts him off, "Camille's death."

He nods, "You've been out of it. Especially after Reese's birth. Clare."

"I don't…I don't want to talk about it."

"Please." he pleads, his eyes tearing up.

"What do you want me to say Drew? Huh? That my life is gone. I've lost everything. My head is a never ending tornado sucking up all the good in my life? Do you want me to say that?"

"No…"

"Then what do you want Drew?"

"I just…want you to talk to me…for the first time since two years ago. Actually open up and tell me what's going on?"

"Fine…you really want to know?"

He nods.

"I…I have panic attacks once a week. There's so much stress. Drew…I…I'm…" she breaks into sobs.

"Clare, it's just November. I…I think maybe you should get away."

"But…"

he cuts her off by pulling her into a hug, "Clare, Alli has been planning a girls trip for a while. And I think now's the perfect time ."

Author's Note: Well, what do you think?

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xoxoxo Cat