Wassap!

Update as you can see. I hope you enjoy it! I stayed up till ten o' clock for this one! So...:)

Thanks for the great reviews, and I really hope you like this fanfiction and where it's progressing. I really wouldn't mind tips and ideas on the plotline (which is there, but may be altered in the near future...ooooohhhhh moment, I know!) and writing references. I'm going for that sarcastic badboy with Jared, kinda like- DARE I SAY IT?- Jace from the MI series...so tell me? Is he alright? Is he stupid? Is he hot? Any funny quotes I can use for him?

ADDITIONS, IDEAS? Don't hesitate to review and tell me...I don't mind!

Sooo...thanks guys! :)

Disclaimer: Don't own PC, ROA, or CR...just some of the additional characters! ;)

Isa

The rest of the school day passes fine: Chemistry with Mrs. Peterson (again!), Biology, History and Advanced Mathematics. Now, I'm hanging around after the school day has ended, waiting for the head of Maths, Mrs. Lekinson, to return from her meeting in the staff room, so that I can have a word with her on the new Maths club meeting. Which, incidentally, I've been the head of for three consecutive years.

Confession time?

I love Maths. It's a passion I can't share with anyone, except my parents, who are full-on supportive of me, and my brothers, who just laugh at me whenever I mention it. I sigh and check my watch, hoping any of my friends don't run into me, maybe taking a break from Pom practice or something. If they saw me here, waiting for the friggin' Maths teacher to haul her ass from the staff room to the hallway, I'd have a hell load of an explanation to give.

"C'Mon, Mrs. L. Take your freakin' time." I mutter.

It's not like I'm ashamed of the Maths club or anything- if anything I'm glad that there's something I'm good at that involves doing something logical and expressive with your mind, as opposed to jutting your ass around in boy's faces and pushing up your boobs every,time you see a guy worth getting to know.

That kinda thing doesn't work for me; that's not what High school should be about, should it?

I smile bitterly and shake my head. Apparently so, since half the girls in the school do it.

The reason I have to hide it though? Well, let's just say life is fucked up...complicated as hell, and if anyone ever found out I was worth more than a cheap fuck (as reputation has it) and a bag of air, then I'll be ruined.

I won't be the girls everyone wants to be. I'll be the freak.

I check my watch again, and swear, softly.

"You got a mouth on you there. I'd watch it if I were you." A deeply amused, familiar male voice has me jumping and spinning around on my heel.

"Jared." I sigh. "What do you want?"

Jared grins, looking like a bag of untouchable ice, with his cool, amused expression. His dark brown hair is tousled, and thick, looking like it needs to be run through, namely by my fingers, and his deep blue eyes are shining with light heartedness and a penchant for trouble.

Jared shrugs. When he does, I can't help but notice how defined his muscles look, outlines by a black tee and how his jeans cup his butt perfectly, when he resumes a comfortable position, against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. "I could ask you the same thing."

"You ran into me." I say, after swallowing down a wag of spit.

"Technically I didn't: running into a being implies that there was a physical contact between the two recipients, and sadly-"

"Jared, just go away." I interrupt, snappily, and flick my hair over my shoulder. "What is up with youall of a sudden, have you developed some bug in your brain that tells you that your mission in life is to piss me off? You weren't like this before."

Jared shrugs. "You weren't as hot before."

I roll my eyes. "I was always hot and you know it."

"Mmmm...not really. There was a period between 5th grade and Middle school, when you had a case of a funky growth on your forehead. There were people wagering whether it was fungus or some sort of alien species that decide to create a peaceful reside on the premise of your skull area." Jared says.

Okay, what the hell is this guys' problem? "It was acne. Get over yourself!" I hiss.

Jared's forehead crinkles, as if he's remembering it. "Uh...it was definitely not acne, I can remember that. Whatever it was, it was scary."

"Okay, thanks for that. Are we settled? You beat me, it wasn't acne! Wow, you must feel so good about yourself! Now go away!" I spit out my words, hoping to intimidate him. Then I add, "Is it not bad enough that I had to tolerate you in English today?"

Jared's grin turns crooked, completely unfazed by my anger. "Some girls have compared being in my presence akin to being in the midst of a Greek God. You're obviously crazy. You must not be right in the head. We need to get you checked out right away! Take your top off immediately, I'll have to check to see if your heart beat is normal..." He pauses to look at me meaningfully. "You know what they say; erratic heartbeat is the first sign of madness. And lopsided breasts, too, you know. So I'll have to give them a good squeeze each and observe them carefully...for the sake of your health."

I can't help the blush that creeps into my cheeks. It's from anger, you're angry. Just ignore him. He's a flirt and annoying and stupid and a creep.

I turn away from him, silently, and check my watch again. Have I really been waiting for three minutes? It seems like much more. After this, I'll have to go home, and get the table ready for Abuela, coming round for the evening from her house in Downtown Chicago.

And then, there's Grandma and Grandpa- from my mom's side, visiting as well. I bite my lip, trying not to think of how badly our last meeting with them went. Mom was in tears by the end of it, and I remember trying to comfort her, although I was only six.

I can't forget how upset my mom looked though, how torn up she was about it. Whatever Grandma and Grandpa said to her, it hurt her, and that hurt me. Later on, I cried about it to dad, sitting on his lap and letting loose on how I hated to see mom cry in my stilted, six-year old talk. I still remember what dad said to me:

"Mija, you shouldn't be ashamed about crying for your mom's expense. It shows you care for her. When you cry on behalf of someone you love, it's because you're a part of them, they're someone you are yourself. It defines how you are as a person. You feel. Which is more than I can say for some people."

I remember the anger behind those words. And I knew that dad wouldn't forgive Grandma and Grandpa for what they did. Not because of what they said to mom, or how they said it, but simply because they had the power to hurt her.

And my dad is way overprotective of mom. Way.

"Ahem. Hello, yeah, you there, in dreamland. Stop having wet fantasies about me naked and come to life again. Mrs. Lekinson just peeped her head through the door, told you to come into the room, and you just completely ignored her." Jared says, waving a hand in front of my face. "Just 'cause you're mad at me, doesn't mean you gotta take out that vengeful wrath on others!"

I give him the dirtiest look I know, flick my hair back over my shoulder and walk into the classroom without a word.

"Love yah too, baby." I hear Jared say, and then his low chuckle, that reverberates through me, making my pores tingle. I shiver and take a deep breath.

Then I walk into the classroom, turning into full mathematician mode.

It feels good to let go: it feels even better to get away from Jared.