Author's Note: Sorry about the long wait. Summer is escaping! Someone bring it back! Anyway, I managed to whip out this chapter in an hour. It's a little bit of a filler chapter, but there should be some more drama with the Raw Five coming up real soon.

And thank you very much to everyone who reviewed chapter 2: Angel, Mad Mistress of Death, and Black-Rose-Upon-Thorn. Thank you all for the encouragement.

---

Previously in Got Guts?...

“Do you think Jonas noticed me?”

“It would be impossible for him not to after that little stunt you just pulled.”

“Good,” I said, jutting out my chin. “Because I’m not to be ignored.”

---

Chapter 3: Math is for Smart People

The bell rang, Jenny still gawking at me like I was one of those freaking flying monkeys from “The Wizard of Oz”.

“What?”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” she finally managed to say.

“No, but I was five minutes ago,” I said, reminiscing my request for a gun.

“Just… ugh. We should go to class.”

“Alright.” We were about to go our separate ways when I realized I had forgotten where the math building was. “Where is class?”

“That way,” she begrudgingly pointed to the farthest away building on campus. “Walk fast. Mr. Robest doesn’t like late-comers.”

“Meh, he won’t like me anyway,” I said, slowly walking away.

“Rodney!” Jenny scolded.

“Alright, I’m moving!” I called over my shoulder with a smile as I walked with a purpose.

I made my graceful entrance to the room, dodging treacherous trashcans and rowdy rolling backpacks (man, I hate those things), and slinking my way to the back of the classroom. I didn’t plan on paying attention in math class anyway.

Now, let’s get one thing straight. I was smart, but not that smart. Math really just wasn’t my thing, but father insisted upon passing grades or no motorcycle. In essence, I did my math homework for my baby. I mean my motorcycle. Same thing.

The class filled out rapidly in the next 30 seconds, everyone talking over each other about how they got their tan (2 weeks in Mexico, tan in a can, and a sunburn from the beach that tanned out after using a bottle of aloe vera), where they went on vacation (Europe, a cruise, The Bahamas, and nowhere-I-just-played-video-games), and what classes they were taking (“Oh em gee, we have Art together!”). I sat in the back, actually feeling a bit lonely as everyone plopped themselves down in a desk as the final bell rang.

Mr. Robest reminded me immediately of a pig with his ruddy complexion, a chin that bobbled as he talked, and really bad teeth. As a whole, the man looked like he needed a bath. The room smelled rather odd too. Something like an old bologna sandwich with greasy french-fries on the side.

“Hello children. My name is Mr. Robest,” he introduced himself. His voice was slightly nasally and rather monotone, the words sliding off his tongue like slime. “This is Pre-Calculus class. As I take role, I will call your name and point to a desk and that will be the desk you remain in for the rest of the school year. Ben Adgril…” His voice droned on, saying everyone’s names and people reluctantly shuffled over to their assigned seat. “Rodney McAfton.”

“Here.” He indicated to the desk a few rows over, in the back to my luck. I dragged my backpack over there and sat down, pulling out a notebook and a pencil for doodling or notes, depending on the occasion. A lumbering football player sat down beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see it was none other than Martin Gonzales, part of the Raw Five. So, luck was not completely on my side. He finally took notice of me as I pretended to be very interested in my doodles, giving me a disturbing gaze of mild interest.

“Well well well,” he said, “look what the cat dragged in.”

“Pardon?” I drawled, matching his tone.

“You’re the girl who took O’Riley’s seat this morning,” he stated, giving me a quick up-down.

“Yeah, what’s it to ya?” I said, my voice with a slightly defensive edge.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” I couldn’t help but laugh as he looked onward with a confused expression.

“Sorry, that’s the second time someone’s asked me that this morning,” I quickly explained my insane laughter.

“Well, are you?”

“No.”

“You’re doing a pretty poor job then.”

“I don’t really care.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You just might when you have the majority of the girls in this school clawing at your back because you ‘upset’ Jonas O’Riley.”

“Meh, I can handle them,” I declared confidently.

“Well, all the power to you.” I grinned smugly at that. “You just kicked every social grace at this school in the ass.” Mr. Robest droned on about respecting the books we were given for use at home as Martin and I continued talking.

“I’m Rodney McAfton,” I said, offering a hand.

“Martin Gonzales,” he shook my hand back.

“I guess we’re in this hellhole together,” I groaned, giving a friendly smile as Mr. Robest began passing out a contract saying that we will not destroy the books.

“Hellhole is right,” he murmured, glancing at the ridiculous contract. Our conversation ended as Mr. Robest passed out the curriculum and lectured on about what was on the sheet of paper as if we couldn’t read it ourselves. The class ended before the real torture could begin (homework… gasp!) and I shot out of the room to get a breath of fresh air, Martin following me on the way out.

“Welcome to Saint Joseph Preparatory, princess,” Martin said. And judging by the weird looks in the hallway, I knew I was definitely going to need it.

Second period I had Government and Economy, which I guessed was in the history building across the school. At this point, I knew my schedule was out to get me. I dawdled around campus, trying to guess which building was the history building before I finally stopped someone and asked for directions. As it turned out, the person who I asked for directions was actually a scared and clueless little freshman, so I sent them off on their way without harm. Aren’t I nice

I managed to slide into the classroom seconds before the bell rang. Jenny waved frantically and pointed to the empty seat next to her.

“I saved it just for you.”

“Thanks. Do you think we could have gotten seats any closer to the front of the room?”

“I don’t know, Rodney, these seem to be the closest…”

“I was being sarcastic, Jenny.”

“Oh. What do you have against being in the front of the classroom?”

“In the back you don’t have to pay attention. In the middle you have to feign attention. And in the front, you actually have to pay attention,” I patiently explained.

“And your point is?” she asked snappily. Before I could explain to Jenny and break her golden heart that I didn’t really like school that much, the teacher began her speech.

“Hello everyone! I’m Miss Prosect and I will be teaching you about our nation’s government and our dynamic economy for the following school year. I’m sure we will have lots of fun together!” she said with a cheery smile. I shuddered and slunk down in my desk, frightened by her perma-smile. I attempted to whisper to Jenny or pass a note to her as Miss Prosect made her way throughout the room, but Jenny was unaffected by my attempts and promptly gave me a scolding glare to pay attention.

“Now we’re going to take role. I already know all of your faces because I looked up your names in the yearbook, so when I call role, just tell me if I mispronounce your name. Gabriel Blitzcally?” The list went on. “Jenny Firmson?”

“Present!” Jenny called out sweetly, her arm raised up at what I guess to be a perfect vertical. The list continued.

“Rodney McAfton?”

“Here,” I said with a bored tone, giving a small indication with my hand.

“Oh, Rodney! You are the new girl. Would you like to come up to the front of the class and introduce yourself?”

“Not really,” I said. “You just said my name.”

“But it would be so nice for you to tell us a bit about yourself!” she assured me. Behold the perma-smile.

“I really don’t-”

“Oh come on now, don’t be shy!” she insisted. Perma-smile…

“I’m not shy,” I muttered under my breath before I gave my short and sweet speech. “Hi my name is Rodney McAfton and I’m from Los Vegas Nevada,” I said in one breath before going back to my seat.

“Come back here, now. That was rather short, wasn’t it? Do you have any hobbies?”

“I like to ride my motorcycle, act, and play softball.”

“Excellent, that was much better,” she beamed. I avoided her scary smile by studying my desk. “Where were we? Oh yes, role. Steven Motly?”

The rest of class continued rather uneventfully until the bell rang, signaling brunch. Jenny guided me toward the quad, babbling about her first period class and how she thought Miss Prosect seemed like such a nice lady.

“Are you kidding me? Her smile was scary. It seemed plastered to her face. That class was torture.”

“Well, you brought it upon yourself,” she quickly stated. “All you had to do was tell a little about yourself. It’s not that difficult.”

“She’s probably on Prozac,” I grumbled, refusing to admit she was 100 percent right.

“Now,” she said to me before entering the quad, “can we try to have an uneventful brunch? This morning was plenty dramatic.”

“Eh, I’m not going to guarantee anything,” I said with a devilish grin. “And seriously, no drama? What’s the fun in that?”

---

Thanks for reading and please review!