Lessons Well Learned

By Violet Ice


Misao hated history.

Saying the above statement in the above fashion is putting it mildly. History -dates, battles, people, places- she hated it all with such a passion that she was failing it and failing it miserably. She couldn't remember anything; it was too much information to cram into one person's brain. Wars were getting mixed up (Was the Korean War in the 50's? That sounded right…But which 50's???), people were confused (George Washington? George Washington Carver? Washington Irving??), and locations…They were a lost cause.

Which was precisely why Misao was slumped down in a chair in the career center at three o'clock in the afternoon on her 16 birthday. Of course, she would have rather been ANYWHERE instead of there, but the school said she needed to pass world history (even if she didn't agree) so there she was.

What was she doing there? Waiting for her tutor. He was supposed to have come fifteen minutes ago and she had a right mind to walk out of the room and tell them forget it if he didn't show within the next five minutes. Was she supposed to wait around all day for this nerd to show up? It was her birthday, for the gods sakes! She was wasting her time.

And the guy her guidance councelor said would be tutoring her…She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. She knew who he was, of course. Every one knew. He was the poorest, quietest kid in the whole school. He was a total loser and not to mention a total nerd. Misao didn't want herself associated with some one like that.

As the richest girl at Murasaki High School, she had a reputation to uphold. She was popular, and rich, and gorgeous and every one knew it. No one could tell her otherwise. So she wasn't about to let a poor bookworm ruin it for her.

She tipped back her chair slightly. He had three more minutes and if he didn't turn up by then she would be gone. Long gone. Outta there. She had birthday things to do; a party to go to, a restaurant to eat at, a brand new car to drive.

Waste of her time…

If I have to sit here any longer…She began grumbling to herself, just as she leaned too far back in the chair. The chair tottered on two legs for a moment that felt like an eternity, then tipped backwards, rushing to meet the floor. Her fingers clawed wildly at the edge of the table, but it was too late. There was no saving herself.

It was as she lay dazed on the floor that she noticed the tall figure standing in the doorway. Dressed in faded black jeans and a plain black shirt, he was tall and lean, with dark hair falling over his forehead and into his eyes. A book bag was slung over his shoulder and his whole outfit was covered with a black trench coat that flapped about his legs as he strode the rest of the way into the room.

He stared at her coldly, his expression blank and emotionless. This was Aoshi, the guy who was supposed to tutor her in world history. He was a senior, he had very little money and that was all any one knew about him. He kept mostly to himself, had no friends and didn't seem to care.

Aoshi looked at Misao where she lay on the floor. Her outfit was pure American Eagle; tight, fitted jeans, a red top and leather jacket. She had expensive sneakers, a matching jewelry set and a pained expression on her face. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy braid and he wondered why she didn't do something fancier with it. She did have money, after all.

"Are you just going to lay there?" He asked dully, setting his book bag on the table, "Or are we going to work?"

"You could at least help me up, can't you?" She raged, "What kinda guy are you? Don't you know who I am??"

"Of course I know." He replied evenly, "You're the rich little brat who lets Daddy take care of everything. You got yourself down there; I'm not helping you up."

Her eyes widened for a moment. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. No one! She was loved and feared by all. "How dare you!? I could-"

"You could what? Fail history and repeat the tenth grade? I don't have all afternoon. Are you going to get up or what?"

"I hate you…" She grumbled as she climbed up off the floor and picked the chair up. "This is such a waste of my time. And I'm going to ruin my reputation, hanging around with a loser like you."

He blinked. "I don't particularly want to be here either, you know." He said dryly as he pulled a notebook from his bag. "I'm only here for National Honor Society. They wanted me to do it so I said yes. But I'd rather not waste my afternoons with you."

Her face flushed red with anger and her eyes narrowed. "Waste!? I'm doing you a favor, poor boy! This will help boost your image, you know. If people see you with me, it'll be great for you, but a disaster for me!"

"I could care less about my image. What are you studying?"

She glared at him as she dug around in her backpack for her notes and text book. She wasn't very scholarly and most of her notes -what few she took- were scribbles on lose sheets of paper and stuffed randomly into the bag. She finally came up with a crumpled piece of paper and a leaking pen. "Umm…"

"Don't you even know?" He rolled his eyes, "How did you make it this far? Did they pay for you to pass grades? I mean, you couldn't have possibly come this far without a bribe of some kind."

"Oh shut up already and teach me this crap so I can leave." She snapped.

Smirking, he opened his notebook. "Well, do you know…?"

She sighed.

This would be hell.