4. Love At First Fight (aka The Bet)

"Ma," she whines for the umpteenth time with a hand running through her hair, "please get back to work. Please? Please."

Angela's eyebrows shoot up and she places her fisted hands on her hips. This is her fighting stance. Jane knows she's in for it.

"Oh. You want me to go," she starts off as a matter-of-fact. "What, is it a crime to wanna see my only daughter at least once every other day, huh? To make sure she isn't lying in some ditch, or got hit by a bus or something? Is it so wrong to wanna make sure my baby girl, my baby girl, who's too busy for her own mother- Hey, remember me? It's your loving mother checking on you during her break-"

"It's lunch-time," the teen interjects.

"And?" Angie exclaims a bit affronted, as if she didn't know that. "Wanna tell me something else obvious?"

Jane does exactly that. "You're the lunch-lady. You don't get a break right now."

Moving forward to wave an accusatory finger in her kid's face, Angela gets to the source of her annoyance, "Don't change the subject. Where were you last night? You didn't answer any of my calls. I swear to God if you're in some gang or fight club, Janie- And don't think I don't know about your detention, 'Ms. Rebel without a Pause'. I bet you mouthed off again, didn't ya? Always gotta be a smart-ass, just like your father. That's what always gets you in trouble-"

Jane knows not to disrupt her mother during one of her tirades, so she waits patiently… until that one particularly sensitive button is pushed. The 'F' word.

In a quiet but serious voice, Jane interrupts her Ma, stating, "I'm nothing like him."

Taken aback, Angela stares at her daughter for a few long moments, taking in the tension in her face and the way her eyes just went dark and unfocused. The girl's always been mouthy, but name one Rizzoli who isn't. What's more concerning to her is when her Janie gets all quiet and broody like this. Angela's own expression softens a bit.

Starting to feel weirded out by her mother's sympathetic gaze, Jane breaks the silence. "Look, can we talk about this later? I already feel like shi- Ow!" exclaims the foul-mouthed daughter of a Catholic Italian mother with a mean back-hand.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" asks the older woman as the younger tries to soothe her stinging arm. Just then two giggling girls walk past, earning them a tag-team death-glare from both mother and daughter, instantly sobering their expressions. Once they're out of sight, Angela produces two painkillers for Jane's ever-growing headache. "Here, you look like shit."

Jane rolls her eyes at the irony of it being okay for her Ma to swear like a sailor, but when she does it, she gets thwacked by the proverbial hand of God. "Mm, so I've been told," is her sardonic reply, but she gratefully dry-swallows the pills, hoping they kick in soon. "Thanks."

Angela starts absent-mindedly fiddling with Jane's unruly hair. "You want a lift after detention?" she offers in a suspiciously sweet sing-song voice.

Jane eyes her Ma closely and slowly answers, "Sure…" before encircling her wrists to pull those handsy hands away from her hairy hair.

"Good, 'cause I don't want you out of my sight, missy. You're grounded," she points pointedly, "forever."

Jane saw that one coming from a mile away, but her jaw still drops quicker than a hooker's panties. "Grounded? For what?" she protests, but then on second thought, "Don't answer that."

"Mmhmm…" hums the Rizzoli matriarch knowingly. Before Jane can make her escape, Angela starts fretting over her attire. "Were you rough-housing again? What happened to your jacket?"

"I dropped it. Now are you done babying me, 'cause I'd like to go eat something."

"That better not be code for hanky panky."

"Wha- Oh my G- Eww! Ma?!" Jane exclaims in a harsh whisper. This conversation has to end as soon as now.

"What, you think I'm not up-to-date on the lingo these days?"

"Why can't you just go to PFLAG meetings like normal parents?"

"Because I'd rather watch the L word with you," she jokes, causing Jane to groan in embarrassment, "Speaking of which, I overheard some girls talking earlier, and one of them seems to really like you." Ma Rizzoli is clearly excited about this development, but Jane wants to nip it in the bud.

"Oh no. No, no, no. Nope, I am not doing this with you," she shakes her head, but the other woman tunes her out.

"Y'know Carla Talucci's sister-in-law's niece, Bonnie? You remember her, she wears that cute little fedora hat. Did you even know she goes to the same school as you?" Angela turns to point the subject out inside the crowded cafeteria of students but Jane lightly swats her hand to stop her.

"Tell me you did not talk to her," she pleads.

Angela does a double-take. "Well…" she starts before continuing in what she believes to be a hushed voice, "I just thought since I never see you with anyone, maybe you're not so good at talking to girls."

Jane places her arms akimbo and shakes her head while staring at the ground, wishing it would just swallow her whole and choke. This cannot be happening. Not today, not here, not while her thinky-thing's mosh-pitting in her head. But happening, it is...

"It's okay to be shy, sweetie. And if you need some help finding a nice girl-"

"Thanks, but no thanks." Jane swiftly moves past her mother to fully enter the lunchroom, mumbling, "Frost's waiting for me," but Angela sees this conversation ending a little differently.

"Jane Clem-"

Jane quickly whirls around to put a hand over her Ma's mouth mid-shout. "Whoa! Hey, c'mon, really! Really, Ma? With the name-calling?"

"Well, it's your name, isn't it?" Angela replies, oblivious to her daughter's angst.

"Not everybody needs to know that," is the riled retort through gritted teeth.

"You were gonna just walk away without even a hug or a kiss. What else was I supposed to do?" asks the doting mother with an innocent shrug of her shoulders.

'I see what you're doing here, old lady', thinks Jane as she narrows her eyes, but a small smile sneaks onto her lips. "So needy," she says as she goes in for a quick peck on the cheek.

"I have stretch marks for you."

Jane rolls her eyes. "You make a beautiful zebra, Ma."

Angela playfully swats her daughter's arm and says, "Love you too, sweetie. Be good."

Walking away, Jane can't help but compare that tornado of a conversation with the brief one she had earlier with the Principal…

"Hey, Mr Cav-"

"Enough small talk. I'm no babysitter. Get outta my office."

"Nice chat, Sir."

… then she picked up her jacket off the floor and left for the gym to shoot some hoops.

Jane enters the lunchroom, bypassing a variety of curious eyes, and swaggers straight to her usual table where she finds her best bud chowing like a champion. She flops down opposite him in front of the food tray he got for her. They always do that for each other if either one is running late. There are other people at the table, but they're mostly the 'hi-bye' type of friends. She ignores them.

"I knew you'd have a tough time following the rules," says the computer hacker.

"Don't I always? But what are you talking about?"

"What we discussed this morning?"

This morning…? A lot happened this… Oh. Realization dawns on Jane. The whole 'no more girls' thing. But wait, she hasn't done anything. "Whatcha on about? I haven't even looked at any girls today."

"Then who was that?" asks Jane's confused boy-friend.

"Who?" she asks back before taking a big bite of her sandwich.

"That hottie you just kissed in front of the entire school. You holdin' out on me, Rizzoli?" Frost likes to think that Jane tells him everything, and Jane lets him think that, but he's never seen her with anyone from around the school, plus she hates PDA, so this is odd.

"That was Ma, you perve," she says trying not to choke on her barely chewed food.

"My bad," laughs Frost, "I only saw her from behind, so…" he shrugs.

"I always knew you were an 'ass man'," she jabs good-naturedly.

Steering clear of any further discussion of Angela Rizzoli's rear view, Frost says "I'm assuming she didn't come all the way here to bring you your lunch…" He briefly wonders if she got suspended.

"Nope, she's here to bring everyone's lunch," she nods her head toward the newest cafeteria employee across the room.

At this new revelation, Frost's face changes into one that closely resembles a bored housewife watching her favorite soap opera at the very moment that the plot takes a riveting twist. "Oh snap," he snaps his fingers. "She works here now? What are the odds?"

"Whatever they are, they're clearly not in my favor today."

He chuckles at his friend, wondering how many times she'll be complaining about her mother's overbearing nature and embarrassing antics. Never a dull moment with the Rizzoli's.

"You just did a little cartwheel in your head, didn't you?"

"A little one, yeah."

"Glad you find this funny."

Frost rolls his eyes and sarcastically says, "I don't see the big deal. It's not like she got the job just to keep an eye on you."

Angela's daughter replies straightaway, "Wanna bet?" but Frost's answering laughter is answer enough. "Exactly." Lowering her voice to a whisper, she reveals her first issue with this arrangement, "She wants to set me up with the friggin' fedora girl."

"Bonnie? You could do worse, y'know." Under his breath he mutters, "You probably have…"

Hearing him loud and clear, the lady lady-killer is offended by her friend's comment. Joking about it is one thing, but for some reason, she gets the feeling that he totally believes she's some heartless, womanizing sex addict. It's time to set him straight.

"Why you gotta be like that, man?" Her tone is clearly annoyed.

"Like what?" His tone is calculated as if he knows which buttons he's pushing.

"Like I sleep with anything in a skirt."

Frost quirks an eyebrow. "If you had sperm, you would've fathered a nation by now."

"If you had sperm-"

"Hey." He puts his hands up in truce, but then says, "I just call 'em as I see 'em." He shrugs, knowing exactly what his friend's reaction will be.

"And I'm telling you you're wrong." She's trying not to sound as irritated as she is, but her façade is cracking like recycled cement on a TV show finale episode. It's a saying.

"Wanna bet?" he says off-handedly, but Jane takes the bait.

"Actually, yeah. I do." She nods in challenge.

"Alright, I'm willing to bet my left nut that you couldn't last a month without sex."

Jane scoffs into a chuckle. That's ridiculous. "Pshh… A month? Piece of cake. You could even make it two," she says confidently before scrunching up her face in disgust, "And I like your left nut just fine where it is." She has a sip of water.

"Alright, three months without sex," he says, "and you have to get to know at least one girl within that time."

The second part of that sentence causes Jane to do a spit-take. She knew there would be a catch.

"Only talking with our clothes on, right?"

"Correct."

"What's at stake?"

Frost shrugs his shoulders, "You'll learn how to be attentive. That's a valuable lesson and should be reward enough." Jane gives him an 'I'm still waiting' look. "I dunno. You get to focus on other more important things like school and basketball, I guess."

"No way. You're insulting my character here. Not only do I wanna prove you wrong, you gotta pay damages, man."

"Fine, whataya want?"

Jane looks around at the table and finally sees that the others have been listening in the entire time. She decides to text Frost instead.

His phone chimes. He reads the message. His eyes bug out. "What?! You're outta your mind."

Then he texts what he wants his prize to be 'when' she loses. Jane forgets to even ask how he'll know if she's lost the bet when she reads his text.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I kid you not." He seems pretty confident she'll lose. Jane wants to wipe that smug smile right off his handsome face.

She pretends to spit in her palm and holds her hand out with a dark smirk. He slowly lifts his own hand up, and does the same. They shake on it, and thus the bet is made.

Some might think it's a little extreme, but these two have been making bets about anything and everything for as long as they've known each other. Last time they bet on who could eat nothing but protein bars for the longest. Frost won, but Jane can't complain about the positive effects of the protein bars coupled with basketball training on her physique.

The school bell rings.

"Wanna play a pickup game after detention?" asks Frost as he gets up.

"Nope, I'm grounded," says Jane with a Cheshire grin.

"What? You didn't tell me that. That's cheating."

If she's grounded, then her chances of sneaking out to bed random girls are slim anyway. This changes everything.

"Too late, we already shook on it. Back out now and I win."

"I am so sabotaging you."

"I'd like to see you try."

It's been a long first day back at school for the students of Boondocks High, but for some, the after-school bell means the day is far from over.

She shuts her locker and starts a leisurely walk through the emptying hallways, kicking the ones she knows belong to those few stupid jerks from the football team. She can't stand them.

She stops in front of the door to the detention hall. She knows the drill: if you have luggage, leave it up-front, sit down, take the register and then pretend to write lines as punishment for your sins. She sighs. If she's lucky, she'll get Ms. Frisby who doesn't give a rat's ass what you do as long as she can read her Xena femslash in peace.

Jane walks in and her prayers are answered.

"You're late, Rizzoli. That's another detention."

Any other schoolchild would have been intimidated by the pudgy brunette lady wearing thick-brimmed eye-glasses on her unsmiling face and tap-tapping a wooden ruler menacingly against her palm. Not Jane Rizzoli. "It's a date," she winks at the young teacher, knowing her chain is being yanked. Noting the near-empty room, "Slow business, eh?"

"It's only the first day," says Ms. Frisby with an exaggerated eye-roll, "give Pike a chance to warm up."

Even the teachers think the Science teacher is a handful. Jane chuckles softly to herself. He's certainly met his match in her.

Checking with her register, Ms. Frisby says, "Well, since it's just you two, I'm gonna head out for a minute. I'll be right back."

Jane reckons she needs the ladies' room or something. She spots the Louis Vuitton bag at the front of the class and then turns around only noticing now that there is another girl in the room.

The Math teacher leaves the girls alone.

From where she's standing, the raven-haired tomboy can see a petite, fair-skinned, golden brunette girl with glasses, fervently cleaning a desk with wet wipes. Briefly she wonders if the girl spilled something on it or if she's just one of those neat-freaks. She watches her for a while and Maura eventually stops.

Okay, so speaking of long days, the new girl has had a spectacularly unsuccessful one. Classmates mocked her hygiene routine and the way she talks, whispering behind her back, she spent lunch crying in the bathroom and avoiding everyone, but the cherry on top is when a certain teacher gave her detention for politely correcting him. Detention. She thought she would've at least gotten credit for her valuable input to the lesson, but she was evidently mistaken. Never having felt this humiliated and alone in her life, she is this close to giving up on the entire school experience completely. So the next person to make fun of her had better watch out.

"Lemme guess, your Dad's Adrian Monk?" Jane asks, commenting on the other girl's OCD behavior.

Maura has obviously never watched most TV shows, so she just shakes her head and says, "You shouldn't make guesses," in an icy but quiet voice, before finally looking up to find playful chocolate browns.

It isn't so much what she said as it is how she said it that gets Jane thinking that maybe this girl is not in a talkative mood. "Oookay…" says the tall Boston-Italian girl moving to sit directly behind the smaller Boston-Irish girl.

Maura recognizes her as the girl who was forcefully excused from Dr. Pike's classroom earlier, except now she's wearing a denim jacket. A familiar-looking jacket. This must be her lab partner.

When Jane puts her feet up on her desk as she pulls out her iPod from her pocket, the germophobe can't help but cringe internally. The mystery of the dirty shoeprint is solved.

Jane notices the other girl staring at her with veiled disdain. If it was anyone else, they wouldn't notice, but Jane is very good at reading body language. Pretty sure this isn't one of her angry exes, she asks, "Something wrong?"

Maura snaps out of her head. She was too busy observing how poor this girl's etiquette is with her dusty combat boots propped up like that. Something her mother frowned upon immensely. Not wanting to potentially upset her fellow classmate she guides the conversation to safer territory.

"I- I'm your partner. Lab partner," she stumbles.

"You're the new girl?" asks Jane, genuinely surprised. She gives her the up-and-down. "To be honest, when Pike said you were some child prodigy, I was expecting you to be…"

"Younger?"

"I guess that too. But mostly Asian," Jane jokes, hoping to lighten the atmosphere.

Jane Rizzoli, Sultan of Sarcasm, meet Maura Isles, Lady Literal.

"So what you're saying is that every Asian student in the United States school system is some sort of scientific mastermind, and vice versa?" she asks, but doesn't leave room for any reply, "That may, in part, be due to the catalysis of stereotypes through modern media and pop culture, but many studies recognize that no single trait or test can identify every gifted child, and while Asian students are usually within the top academic percentile and tend to do exceedingly well when compared to other groups, they only make up, on average, less than 5% of student body populations and classrooms. Therefore that stereotype is misleading, as is your syllogism. It would be the same as suggesting every Asian knows martial arts."

Jane just stares blankly for a moment. Then she blinks. This girl may just be a genius after all, but did she really have to go on like that? It was just a joke.

"Oh. I see it now. But if you're so smart, how come you're in detention?"

Maura starts blinking really fast and her eyes start watering. She turns around and sits down, electing to pretend she didn't hear the question so she doesn't have to relive the second most awful encounter of the day. Her mother's words echo in her thoughts. 'You're an Isles, behave as such'. Landing up in detention on the first day must be the epitome of misbehaviour.

Behind her back, a different dilemma is brewing. Jane is confused by whatever's going on right now. No amount of conversing with her mother had prepared her for this.

"Are you- Why are you crying?" Was it something she said or is this girl off her meds or something?

Not turning around, Maura says, "Sorry, I can't control the connection between my amygdala and lachrymal gland."

"Your what now? Don't tell me you always talk like that," Jane says with an eye-roll. She's a little puzzled by whatever the honey brunette is trying to say, and doesn't have the patience to try and decipher it, but her humanity pulls a napkin out of her jacket pocket and reaches over to hand it to the teary-eyed teen. "Here."

"Thank you," Maura wipes her cheeks but a new fire has already started in her eyes. How dare this stranger mock the way she talks? She turns around to say one last thing. "But I refuse to censor myself to comfort your ignorance."

All Jane hears is 'I'm smarter than you'. What the hell? Gloves officially off. But before she can say anything:

"Rizzoli," says Ms. Frisby as she walks into the room in a great hurry, "and Isles. Why don't you two go on home?"

The two girls simultaneously look at the woman.

Maura finds this odd, to say the least, "We've only been here for six minutes."

"I'm sure you've both learnt your lessons," says the fanfic-fan in a placating tone as she waves them over toward the door. "Whatever you did, just don't do it again."

Getting to her feet, Jane says, "Ma'am, you're acting awfully suspicious. But I am not complaining." She would rather go home and sleep than stay here and sleep.

Without any further hesitation, Maura collects her things from the front of the room and leaves in a hurry of her own. She just wants to forget this day and cry in peace.

Before Jane can make her own exit, Ms. Frisby stops her.

"What did you say to her?" she asks concerned, having seen the teary-eyed girl.

Jane has no idea what to say, so by default she jokes, "I may have told her that… Santa Claus doesn't exist."

Ms. Frisby rolls her eyes. "Get outta here."

We're only young and naive still

We require certain skill

The mood it changes like the wind

Hard to control when it begins

A/N: Phew! Finally, their first day is over. I'm sure they just got off on the wrong foot. They'll probably fall in love very soon, haha. But then again, they never listen to me. Review and lemme know what you think about this chapter, brought to you courtesy of 'Young Blood' by THE NAKED & FAMOUS.

Irrelevant A/N: Aaargh!