One and One Doesn't Equal Two
by Shadray

Author's Notes- Okay, so here we are. First story on this site, so if you have any comments or anything, feel free to tell me in the review or something! I'll return the favor. Read on.

Summary- Chris—popular, carefree, relaxed. Rianna—quiet, kind, sweet. How can such opposing personalities work together to complete an interesting high school assignment that involves a robotic baby and a fake marriage? And an even better question is this: How can Rianna handle taking care of a robo-baby when something terrible happens to someone in her family? The probability of killing two birds with one stone is not likely—you'll most likely miss both birds—, and Rianna can't do a thing about it. It began with a simple project, and it concluded with an unbelievable complexity.

Chapter One: Piece of Cake

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Hareford High, Before Homeroom

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"Woah." Rianna's eyebrows raised as she angled her neck to see to the top of the giant building. "When they said they would be remodeling the school over the summer, they didn't say anything about making it this size."

The girl beside her, Ashley, nodded. "I don't think I've ever been to a school this huge before!" she exclaimed, shaking her head slightly. "With all this new stuff, maybe we'll finally have a real-sized cafeteria."

The two considered it for a moment and then shook their heads. "Nah . . ."

Rianna laughed to herself quietly. "We'd still have to eat the lunch anyway . . ."

The front yard alone seemed like it would need at least ten gardeners to work on it before it could be cut down to size, and to top that, the actual school building was so elevated that it seemed to reach up to Heaven, if not farther.

The renovated building seemed three times as large as Rianna remembered it had been last year. Last year, the place had only equaled the size of perhaps two or three $200,000 houses, and while this volume used to seem like a lot, it no longer satisfied the need of space that the students held. Not too many people—four hundred at the most—had attended the school, so there was just barely enough space for everyone to fit in, including the staff. Ever since Hareford High School had become the highest-scoring school on standardized tests in New Jersey, more and more students were attending. And now . . . over a thousand kids enrolled.

As the two seniors walked down the olive-colored lawn, what seemed like hundreds of other students dressed in jeans, T-shirts, and other casual clothing passed by with bookbags hunched over their shoulders.

Rianna and Ashley weren't attending a high school any more than they were attending a therapy session with Brad Pitt's cousin. No, they weren't attending a high school—they were attending a palace.

"Looks like this will be a looooong year," Ashley commented, sighing.

The two had known each other for over four years, ever since they were randomly chosen to be "locker-mates" in middle school. There hadn't been enough lockers for each student, so instead of having half of the students without a locker, the staff of the middle school had conveniently decided it would be a good idea for each locker to be shared. Rianna didn't really mind; it could've been much, much worse. There were some people in her grade who just loved to pick on and beat up eat other. Therefore, her friendship with Ashley had grown stronger over the past few years.

"So," Ashley began, shaking her long, light hair out of her face, "what's your first class?"

Rianna pulled her schedule out from her pocket. "Let's see . . . umm . . . I haaaaaave . . . Health class," she replied, squinting her eyes to read the microscopic print.

"Health class?"

The brunette nodded, thinking her friend would say she had the same class. She brightened a little.

"Sucks for you. I hear it's supposed to be boring. I have P.E.," Ashley replied carelessly. "Well, good luck with that class of yours!"

"Um, yeah."

Ashley rounded the corner into her homeroom, which, needless to say, was also different from Rianna's.

Thinking harder, Rianna couldn't remember the last time Hareford High had a Health class. Or if it did, she couldn't remember ever hearing about it before. Must be new, she considered. She later found herself shrugging. I'm sure it's not that bad. With all of the new stuff going on in the building, she didn't find it too hard to believe that they were adding new classes as well. As she entered her own homeroom, she spotted a seat in the front of the room and proceeded, waving to a few of her friends along the way.

When she sat, Rianna reached for her schedule once more to check to make sure she had her classes right.

"Period One: Health. Room 307," she read aloud.

Room three hundred and seven? Did that mean she had to walk up three flights of stairs?

Not gonna happen.

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"Garet, will you hurry up?!" Chris barked impatiently from behind his dark-haired friend. "We're going to be late!"

"I say we leave him," Lance said emotionlessly, leaning against the wall. "The kid's too slow."

"Hold on, I just need to get my algebra book," Garet insisted. "You two don't actually think I'm going to walk in that math class without it, do you?"

Both Chris and Lance exchanged impatient looks. "Yes."

"Well, be patient. I know it's in here somewhere. . . ." The black-haired boy began shuffling hurriedly through his locker. After a while, he slammed his fist on the floor, causing him to wince a bit. "What did I do with that damn book?!"

Chris laughed, chewing his gum. "Just go on without it."

"Alright, fine. But if old man Simmons gets on my case about it, I'm saying it was both of your faults."

Chris shrugged and turned the corner into the now almost empty hallway, with Lance following right behind. After a while of walking with the two, Garet entered his own first period class. A few girls waved flirtatiously as Chris and Lance made their way through the hall.

"Howya doin there?" Chris greeted coolly. He was so caught up with waving and smiling that he almost bumped into a wall when the hallway came to an end.

Lance grabbed him quickly ("Ugh, get off me!"), redirecting him to the flight of stairs to the left.

It didn't take but two minutes to walk the rest of the way to Room 307.

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Continuing straight, Rianna could hear the faint noise of a group of girls laughing from around the corner. She knew immediately who was speaking.

"—And so I said to him, 'Hey, where are you going?' And he was all, 'To the movies!' And I was all, 'But I thought you were going to the movies with me!' And he was all, 'So?' And I was all, 'Aren't we supposed to be dating?' And he was all, 'But you and me are cousins!' And I was all, 'But we're in love!' And he was all, 'So?' And I was all, 'So let's go to the movies together!' And he was all, 'No.' And I was all, 'Yes.' And he was all, 'No.' And I was all, 'Yes.' And he was all, 'No.' And I was all, 'Yes.' And then, he had the nerve to—"

Rianna shook her head. It was Nina and her Bitch Squad. In Johnson High, Nina was supposedly the "popular girl" that everyone was supposed to adore and idol and suck up to. But since Rianna was one of the only girls who had the sense not to suck up to her, Nina and her squad of superbitches stepped all over her whenever they had the chance.

Nina rounded the corner. "—So then I slapped him and I was like, 'It's over!' And he was like, 'Okay.' And then I sued him for molesting my cat, which he didn't do, by the way, and I won the suit and—"

Suddenly, the extremely skinny and rude and unnaturally popular and overly bitchy blonde looked ahead of her and noticed Rianna standing with her books held firmly in her hands. She stopped talking immediately.

Slowly walking past, Nina frowned deeply and eyed Rianna as if she couldn't be trusted. "Well," she said, "look who's here. Rianna." She snapped her fingers, which obviously motioned for her squad behind her to quickly catch up, because that's just what happened. Then, turning back to the brunette, she frowned again. "Out of the way," she snapped hastily.

Rianna stayed put. "You could at least ask kindly, like any regular person would do," she stated.

Losing patience, Nina rolled her eyes and walked by, brushing her shoulders hard against Rianna's. She almost dropped her books, which resulted in the girls who were following Nina to giggle impolitely.

Now walking again, Nina Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Was proceeded to tell the rest of her story to her squad. "—And then he was all, 'I never molested your cat!' And I was all, 'Who cares?' And he was all—"

Rianna sighed and continued walking. All she could do was pray Nina didn't have Health class. Either do that, or switch classes. If it was possible.

The thought left almost as soon as it came.

Coming to a door labeled "Health—Room 307", she stopped and pulled out her watch. Late.

Hopefully, he won't notice if I walk in quietly, she told herself quickly as she knocked on and opened the door.

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When the door fully opened and she walked inside, the first thing Rianna noticed was the blonde young woman sitting in a seat in the corner, twirling her hair. As Rianna hurriedly looked for a seat across the room, the girl, Nina, grinned a nasty, disgusting grin.

Rianna tried her best to ignore her—making sure not to make eye contact—as she placed her books down on the desk. She had no idea how Nina could have slipped into the classroom without her noticing. Wasn't she just talking to her in the hallway? Maybe I just wasn't paying attention, was her next explanation.

Rianna's thoughts were suddenly interrupted as a loud voice barked at her from the front of the room.

"Miss Richards!"

She almost jumped, startled, but then realized that the teacher was the one referring to her. "Yes, sir?"

The man in the front of the room frowned and put down the chalk he was using on the blackboard. "You're late, Miss Richards."

Rianna sat upright. "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized honestly. "I guess it was because of the terribly long walk it took to get here." Nina rolled her eyes from across the room.

"It won't happen again."

"You're right, it won't," the man said, nodding. "Now, since this is the first day of school, I'll give you a break this one time." He turned toward the rest of the room. "But, students, this is a very strict class, as you're about to see. Do not push it. Now," he began, "as I was saying, my name is Mr. John Parkers."

As Mr. Parkers picked up the chalk and turned to write his name on the blackboard, Chris frowned from across the room. "Who's the girl?" he whispered, obviously to Lance, sitting beside him. "Never seen her around before."

"Me neither," he replied. "Why do you wanna know? You like her?"

Chris shook his head at once. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no, of course not! Just wondering."

"Yeah. Right."

Chris Grinards and Lance Warington were the two most popular guys at Hareford High, and also the two best basketball players the school had had in the past decade. They'd known each other since they were just kids, and everything they did, they did together. All of the girls were constantly flirting with the two of them, and laughing at each one of their jokes, trying to get their attention—especially Nina Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Was. In fact, there were only a handful of girls who didn't care for either one of them—among them, Rianna. Or at least she made it seem that way.

The boys' basketball team, The Hareford Hares (everyone hated the name), was one of the only undefeated basketball teams in New Jersey, and if it weren't for Chris and Lance, the team would've lost the tournament weeks ago. Chris's grades were slipping.

"What are we supposed to do in this class, anyway?" Chris suddenly asked his friend as quietly as possible.

"Why would I know!?" Lance replied. "This is the first day, remember?"

"Oh, right."

Lance smiled. "I bet you're glad Nina's in this class, huh?"

"No, not really," Chris responded.

"Are you serious? I thought you two went out?"

"We did . . . and then we broke up."

The two were now completely ignoring whatever was going on in the class.

Lance looked shocked. "Really!? Who broke up with who? And why?"

"I don't know!"

Mr. Parkers suddenly threw down the chalk and whirled around. "Mister Grinards and Mister Warington!" he boomed. "Be quiet!"

Chris cringed a bit. "Okay, okay, sorry! No need to get your shoelaces in a knot . . ." he said, sending a hand through his gel-filled blonde hair, coolly.

Girls giggled throughout the room.

"SILENCE!"

The room hushed immediately.

"Good." The man smiled and picked up the chalk to finish writing his name, which took quite a bit of time. "Now, I'll call roll," he eventually announced, reaching for his clipboard and pen. "Uhhh . . . let's see here . . . oh, here were are. Period One." He paused for a moment, and then continued. "Uh . . . Sarah?"

"Here!" someone squealed.

"Lee?"

"Here!" someone else announced.

"William?"

"Present! And you can call me, 'Will.'"

Mr. Parkers frowned. "Thank you, William," he said sharply. ". . . Lance?"

Lance raised a hand. "Here."

"Nina?"

"Here!"

"Rianna?"

"Here, sir."

"Chris?"

"Yo!"

Most of the girls in the class giggled once more, trying to earn Chris's attention.

While the roll call was occurring, Rianna let out a deep sigh and leaned back in her seat. She'd seen Chris around school a lot, but had never had the nerve to go up to him and introduce herself. Every time she tried, she either just walked away or told herself that basketball players didn't talk to normal girls like her. And the truth of the matter was, they didn't. Well, not most of them, anyway.

The girl sitting next to her quietly leaned over in her seat. "You like him, don't you?" she whispered.

It took Rianna a while to figure out she was talking to her. "I like who?"

"Chris!"

"Chris?! Oh, no, no, no, no, no, of course not! Why do you ask?"

"It's obvious, how you're staring at him like that," the girl responded.

"Oh, um, I wasn't staring at him. I was . . . just looking at . . ."

The girl chuckled a bit. "It's okay," she said finally. "A lot of girls like him. In fact, I wouldn't even mind going out

with his friend, Lance. Hey, what's your name, anyway?"

"I'm Rianna. You?"

"Crystal. Nice to meet you," greeted Crystal. "Well, let's hope this class ends soon. I'm ready for P.E."

"Same."

Mr. Parkers frowned again, this time much deeper. "Forget it. I'll finish the rest later." Then, he placed the clipboard down on his desk and faced the blackboard once again. Picking up the chalk, he said loudly, "Now, for the assignments. Throughout the year, you'll all be learning about this topic."

"I wonder what it is?" Crystal whispered to Rianna, who in turn nodded and focused her attention to the board.

In huge spaced letters, the man wrote the word "B A B I E S".

"Babies?" Chris read aloud. "Is this one of those sex education classes?"

"No, Mr. Grinards. In this class, you will be learning about how to care for children properly. And to start of this lesson, you will each become parents for the next month."

No one spoke for a moment. Then, Rianna's hand shot up.

"Yes, Miss Richards?"

"Is this like one of those parenting classes where two students pair up and have to take care of an egg, or something?"

"Not quite," Mr. Parkers replied. "Actually, you and a partner of the opposite sex—there are exactly 16 boys and 16 girls—will be given a robotic baby. You must care for it over the next month, when you will present them to me and collect your grades. This 'baby' is capable of doing anything that an existent child can do—that includes belching, crying, eating, drinking, sleeping, urinating—"

"Urinating?!" someone asked.

"Yes. Urinating." Mr. Parkers nodded. "This assignment counts as 60 percent of your total grade for the marking period, so make sure that you and your partner work together to please your child. The baby can stay at whoever's house—the mother or father's. During school hours, the baby must be left at your own homes. If anything breaks, you fail. Any questions?"

No one in the room spoke for a good ten seconds, trying to let everything that the man had said sink in. After a while, Crystal's hand raised.

"Yes?"

"Do we get to choose our partners?" she asked.

"No, the couples are chosen randomly," Mr. Parkers answered, ignoring the groans coming from the far side of the room. "Any more questions before I announce the partners?"

Lance's hand was next to go up. "My mother says that it is wrong for people to have babies before they're married. Does that mean we're supposed to pretend to be married to our partners, also?" he said sarcastically.

"Actually, it does. And no more wise-guy cracks, got it?" He watched Lance nod, and then continued. "Okay, no more questions. Time is running out, and I still have to announce the partners. After I do so, you may converse with your partners to plan out who will take the baby home and all of that."

There was a pause. Then . . .

"Here we go. . . . Crystal and . . . Lance."

The girl beside Rianna practically jumped up out of her seat. "Yessssss!" she hissed.

"William and . . . Sarah."

No one seemed to care.

"Chris and . . . " Every girl in the class crossed their fingers, hoping they would be paired with him. ". . . . . . . Rianna."

While mostly groans came from other mouths in the class, Chris's had produced a exultant grin. He knew that partnering with Rianna would get him an "A" for sure, which was just what he needed. He'd been watching Rianna for a little while now, and he knew enough about her grades—like, the fact that she'd gotten all "A's" on her last report card—to know that she could easily take this parenting assignment and come back with an "A Plus" child. And it wasn't as if it would ruin his reputation (there was supposedly some rule that all guys of his status should only hang out with pretty, and usually slutty, girls), since most guys in his grade thought of Rianna as one of the most pretty girls in the school—although none of them admitted to it. Rianna herself probably didn't even know of this.

From across the room, a certain blonde young woman clapped with glee. "Congratulations, Rianna!" exclaimed a still-excited Crystal.

But all Rianna could do was sit there with her hand over her mouth, as everyone in the room—Nina in the lead—glared straight at her. "Um . . . Crystal? I don't think this is something to celebrate . . ."

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