Well, hello, mi Pacos! (It's a combo of 'Pal' and 'Taco') The ominous summery... The ominous title... *Shiver* It may not seem suspensful now, but later, it will be... almost terrifying. Beleive me. I know. I had a dream of this whole story, and parts of it made me want to wake up screaming.

I'm ALMOST kidding. anyway, I've said too much.

enjoy, and I don't own Artemis Fowl, even though I would like to.

Chapter One: Meet Jane

"You just don't give up, do you?" sighed the man, glancing at the mound of papers clutched in the girl's hands.

"No, Sir." She said, and handed the applications to him. "You will find everything in order, with the advance fees in the envelope." She waited, hoping for a reply.

"Of course," said the man gruffly. "That will be all Miss… what was it again?" the girl counted to ten in her head. This was getting old.

"Barry, Sir. Jane Barry."

"Right, right," said Principal Guiney, "You can go Miss Berny."

"Barry, sir." Said Jane, and left the office.

She strolled along the corridor, humming 'Picture to Burn' by Taylor Swift. She was in a melancholy mood. On the one hand, she was the only one to apply for the new opening in Saint Bartleby's. On the other hand, the only reason she could apply for Saint Bartleby's was the school's drop in funding. Obviously, the school's students were quite rich, but the economic dip had forced many students to leave for less expensive education.

And that was why Jane was there. In desperation, 'Saint Bartleby's School for Young Gentleman' became 'Saint Bartleby's School for Gifted Students', even if some students still had trouble with two times two. One test case would start off the new regime. That was probably her. It was, (though Jane didn't know it,) quite like Holly Short's appointment as the first ever female recon officer.

Jane's father's car was waiting outside the gate. "Hey, daddy," she grumbled as she climbed into the shotgun seat. Her father glanced at her.

"Bad time, huh?" he asked, pulling away from the drive.

"Oh, the usual," sighed Jane. "Idiot principal, sexist treatment, yada, yada, yada," Her father clenched his fists, turning his knuckles white around the leather-cased steering wheel.

"I don't know why you signed up for this," he growled. "You know how people treat you. And now you're off to be the only girl in a school full of guys. I don't like it." Jane looked down. She didn't like to have her looks mentioned.

"Dad, someone has to show these blockheads that a girl can cope with anything a guy can. And we can do it in high-heels." Her father chuckled, his mood calming down.

"Now," he said, "I remember why I let you sign on for this." He turned to her and grinned. "You're so full of spunk, those 'blockheads' won't know what to do."

"Mother, I honestly don't know why I have to go to school again this year," Said Artemis, straightening his tie.

"Arty, I know you already know so much, but School is really important," Angeline Fowl smiled fondly at her son. "And even if it bores you to tears, there's still the ski trips!" she beamed, and busied herself with one of the lobsters Butler had cooked for their supper. `

"That's right," Said Artemis Sr. "I didn't get where I am today by staying home. You learn by experience, and you can get that best at school," He said, wagging his fork at Artemis.

"But," Artemis began,

"No buts," said Angeline, "You're going to school," and daintily put a piece of Lobster in her mouth.

At the First Day of school, Art Class, First Period

Classroom 10 was like nothing Jane had ever seen. It had a large counter with sculptures on it in the back of the room, a desk for each student, and swivel chairs to boot. It was her first lesson at Saint Bartleby's, and she was relived it wasn't something too hard. Art was one of her favorite subjects, next to music and drama. Obviously, she didn't get into Saint Bartleby's just by being artistic. She had perfect grades and attendance in any school she'd been to since second grade. The only reason her attendance didn't date back to kindergarten was she had whooping cough once.

She was sitting in the swivel chair at the front of the class, and waited for the lesson to begin. Curious, she opened her desk drawer to see if anything was inside it. What she saw nearly made her gasp. Top of the range lead pencils and paints, colored chalks, at least twenty paintbrushes of different sizes, and rulers and stencils of every sort. She opened the next drawer, holding her breath, waiting to see the treasures within. A mound of notebooks and papers of every size, shape, and color filled it. In the last drawer was a small wooden figure, with moving pieces. A mannequin! She had always wanted one, and finally, she had got her wish. Carefully, she lifted the mannequin out of the drawer, and began experimenting with the poses it could make. Utterly delighted, she took out one of the pieces of paper and a pencil, and began to sketch the mannequin.

Artemis stalked to class. It was irritating, truly irritating that he had to return to Saint Bartleby's every year, just to read the latest scientific work under his desk. He already knew what the teachers did times ten. Last year, he had demonstrated the chaos theory to his math teacher, the time-space continuum to his science teacher, and convinced his history teacher that the only reliable fact from ancient times was that which was written down by many, with the same story repeated multiple times, and even that wasn't completely reliable. The teacher had had enough by then and sent Artemis off to the library, telling him that "If you're so smart, go build a time machine, why don't you?!?"

And so Artemis was resigned to teaching his new teachers the same lesson; Artemis worked best alone.

What Artemis didn't know was that he was about to meet his match. Quite literally, in fact.

A boy walked into the classroom, looking around uninterestedly, as if he thought that art was a waste of time. He stalked to the desk next to the window, and took out a large book on Quantum Physics. What's his problem? Jane wondered. She didn't have time to ponder long, because by that time the class was full, and the teacher was beginning to speak.

"Quiet, now class," said the friendly looking man with brown curls and ice blue eyes. He waited for the class to settle. Jane put the sketch and mannequin to the side of the desk. She glanced around. Why was she the only one paying attention to the teacher? The boy at the window with the Physics book paid no notice at all. "Quiet, people!" said the teacher again, raising his voice. The hubbub continued. "Shut up already!" He roared. Jane jumped in her chair, but it got people's attention.

"Now" said the man. "I'm Mr. Theile, your new art teacher." Mr. Theile smiled at the class. "Now, I know your old art teacher wasn't much fun," a murmur of ascent came from the students, "But it's not gonna be like that this year, 'kay?" another murmur. "Don't believe me, huh?" Mr. Theile grinned. "How to you feel about balloon art?"

Fifteen minutes later, the entire art class was standing in smocks on the activity field next to the school. A huge canvas was set up, with balloons of paint covering its surface. Each student was given a small box of pointed darts.

"They won't hurt you," said Mr. Theile, throwing one at his arm. Jane yelped slightly, expecting the dart to penetrate deep into the man's flesh, but the dart bounced off onto the ground. "But you still need to be careful. They can sting," and with that, everyone started throwing darts at the board. Well… everyone except the black-haired boy with the Physics book.

"Soooo… said a red haired boy to Jane, aiming a dart at a bright purple balloon. "You're the test case, right?"

"Yea," she said, her dart puncturing a navy balloon.

"What's your name?"

"Jane, but everyone calls me Jay."

"Cool. M' name's Neil. So, why'd you decide to join this big streak of boring?"

"Why'd you?" Jane challenged.

Sploosh. Neil's dart hit a balloon and red paint splattered all over the place.

"I didn't have a choice," he said,

"I signed up," Said Jane. "First female student, and all that. I like being first." Neil started to grin. It wasn't a nice smile, either.

"Oh really,"
"Yeah," Jane said, uncomfortable at his tone.

"I like being first too." Said Neil, "How's about the first guy to date the first girl at Bartleby's?"

"Erm… no, no thanks Neil." Neil looked crestfallen. "I just want to get to know everyone first, that's all."

"Okay," Neil said sadly. "See ya around, Jay." He moved off to talk to some other guys. Dad was right, thought Jane. Being in a school full of guys is awkward.

A little way away from Jane, Neil and some other boys were talking.

"But, damn it, she's hot," Neil whistled. "This 'test case' idea was the best thing Guiney has ever done,"

"What's her name, Neil? Or were you too busy drooling to ask?" one of the boys asked.

"Shut up, you retard." Neil growled. "She's called Jay,"

"I thought she was a bird," said another boy. "What size, do you recon?" Neil shrugged.

"How'm I supposed to know? It's not like I spend my time looking at – "

"Okay," said Mr. Theile said, coming up from behind them. "Less talking, more throwing!" The boys grumbled, but relented.

Jay was escorted to her room at the end of the day by Vice Principal Aaron.

"You can decorate it all you want, as long as it looks this way at the end of the year," he told her and left.

The room was small, and plain. She supposed it was a pretty good deal, seeing as she had to have her own room. It had one bunk-bed in it, one small dresser, and a wardrobe in the corner. A long mirror hung on the wall next to the wardrobe. A single ceiling lamp illuminated the small space.

Jay smiled. She liked redecorating, and with so little to work with, she had hundreds of possibilities. She set down her suit cases, and started unpacking.

Did you like it? Cuz this aint' the best part of the story yet, no. The best part is... well I'm not sayin.

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