Every time I think of you, I think of the show Degrassi too. In 2009, we are fourteen, and Degrassi: The Next Generation is on its 9th season, and you convince me to watch it, not from the beginning but from the current episode, the episode where Ali sexts Johnny. I am young enough to cringe at kissing and naïve enough to have never heard the word “sext.” Meanwhile, you seem completely unfazed. We attend the same Catholic middle school, but yes, you already are much more experienced than me. I don’t even know why you want to be friends with me. I am not popular or pretty or funny. You are all those things. And you still invite me over every weekend. We watch the show in your kitchen. Your mom forgets to pay the A/C bill, so we sit on wooden chairs on the second floor of your townhouse, sweating, even with all the windows open because this is South Florida and heat rises. The television is also perched on a wooden chair in the corner. We watch Degrassi marathons on TeenNick all day and night. The ritual starts with that season 9 episode, but it continues every weekend. Instead of doing anything dangerous, scary, or wild ourselves, we spend Fridays and Saturdays watching Degrassi. Episode 207, Shout: Paige is raped. Episode 606, Eyes Without a Face: Darcy has an online stalker. Episode 902, Just Can’t Get Enough: Peter is addicted to meth. Episode 315, Accidents Will Happen: thirteen-year-old Manny discovers that she is pregnant. “I can’t do this. I thought I could,” she pleads to Craig. We sit in the same wooden chairs, and you sip an Arnold Palmer from a can, and you say to both me and the television, “She needs to get the abortion.” I don’t disagree. I am scared to disagree with you. We go to different high schools. You and your mom move to a different apartment. We stop talking for no particular reason. But I don’t stop watching. I don’t stop watching Degrassi throughout high school and college, and even when the show is canceled, I watch old episodes on my laptop, and every time I do, I think of you. When I miss those days in your kitchen, I watch Degrassi. When I miss being young and naïve, I watch Degrassi. When I miss you, I watch Degrassi.
Last week, I went to Toronto for the first time. We haven’t talked in over a decade, but I have to tell you: I went to Degrassi St. It looks exactly as it did on your TV. It was as cozy and safe as your kitchen. You would have liked it.
Frannie Rooney is a writer and professor in New York City. Previously, she has taught at a high school in Miami, Florida, an elementary school in Austin, Texas, and at the University of Málaga in Spain as a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant. She is currently working on her debut novel.
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