A/N: Woah, two chapters in two days. Shocking. Seriously. It is. Anyway, I don't own Rocket Power or any of it's characters, just Lee, and I guess VP Kuoha, because I just made her up on the spot... Well, onto the story!

These are thoughts,

and

"These are lyrics."

"Otto Rocket," Vice Principal Kuoha shook her head, massaging one deeply bronzed temple tiredly, "I'm disappointed, but," The middle-aged Hawaiian woman gave him a hard look from behind her thin-wired frames, "I'm not all that surprised. Just..." she sighed deeply, "Another fight? Seriously Otto, this has got to stop. Do I need to have a word to your father on the subject of anger management classes?"

He tensed. "What? No! Ugh," he gritted his teeth, fingers squeezing the sides of his chair in a vain attempt to vent his frustration, "No, Miss Vice Principal Kuoha. It's just that, ugh!" he widly thrust a pointing finger Lee's way, "She started it!" Woah, even to me I sound like a petty child.

Miss Kuoha looked harried, expression on the verge of exhaustion. She sighed once more. "And you, Lee Wickliffe..." she gestured hoplessly, "Your first day! I don't know how lenient your school back East was, but here at Ocean Shores High we do not condone any type of this behavior!" Her face softened, and she tried to meet Lee's gaze - which was directed anywhere but at Otto, her arms crossed stubbornly - with pleading eyes. "Do you really want to start your time here with such foolish acts?"

"Hey, he started it," Lee muttered under her breath darkly, shoulders hunching as she folded her arms tighter. She could feel the daggers thrown at her from Otto, who was only a few feet to the right, in a chair identical to hers.

The Vice Principal was suddenly enraged. She stood, slamming her hand on the desk, her tone harsh, "And here at OCH we have mature students, not whiny brats who carry on like five-year-olds!"

"Hey!" Otto protested, rising from his chair himself, "I am not a whiny brat!"

"Really? You have a chance to prove that in a few days." VP Kuoha lowered herself onto her desk chair, ruffling papers aimlessly, "You can stay here the rest of the day, for Ms. Wickliffe's sake, as long as there is no more rough business, but you're both suspended until further notice."

"That's completely bull!" Otto retorted hotly, his fists balling again. Both the students flinched as her face contorted furiously, so angry she was intimidating, even more by the cold monotone she answered with.

"You keep your comments to yourself Mr. Rocket. That is an order."

"You're not the boss of me..." came the sputtering reply.

"As long as you are in these grounds, I am. Now get out of my office."

"This is so fucking bogus..." grumbled Lee.

"And that's another rule: no cursing whatsoever, or there will be a series of detentions on top of your suspension notice, Ms. Wickliffe!"

"Say what?"

"This conversation is over. Pick up your timetable from the front office on your way out, Wickliffe. I'll be ringing both your parents shortly."

"But-!"

"Out!"

Lee jumped to her feet in sync with Otto, both pulling their bags up hurriedly and marching angrily towards the door. Otto gave her a rough shove in the shoulder after the doorway, down the small hallway that lead to the front office. "This is your fault."

"I wasn't the one who lost the plot and jumped at me!" She drove her palm against his arm, pushing him back away. "So get fucked, it is so your fault."

Otto mumbled something incoherent, containing a few colourful terms.

"Look, if it means anything, I know who you are."

"Well obviously, considering I've had my name yelled at me God knows how many times since first bell."

"No, I know who you are."

"Please explain."

Lee shook her head tiredly. "Nevermind, man. I'm not in the mood. Go through your DVD demos. You might find me."

Otto regarded her with a puzzled expression, his eyebrows drawn down into a frown, but didn't bother arguing to find a point. Raymundo is going to freak out enough, I don't need another fight. No matter how much she pisses me off...

They both stepped away to create a huge gap, Lee on the left wall, Otto on the right. It was the only way they could get where they needed to go without killing each other. Taking around a minute to manage their way through the front office door without coming in any contact with each other, Lee strode to the counter. "I need a timetable," she stated bluntly to the twenty-something man sitting behind the long desk, who looked bored out of his mind.

He yawned. "Why don't you have one already, Sir?"

Lee could hear Otto snort behind her. "It's Miss, thankyou," she growled, "And I don't have one because I'm new, you idiot."

Not amused, he glanced at her beneath a half-lidded gaze. "Name?"

"Lee Wickliffe."

"Please spell that out for me, please."

"Ugh... Wickliffe. W-I-C-K-L-I-F-F-E."

The printer whired strangely, but spat out the timetable nevertheless. He snapped it up and trust it into the outstretched hand. "There. Get to class."

Otto trudged through the door, slamming it behind him. The class turned to stare at him, most jumping from the loud sound. A couple of girls giggled and turned to whisper behind cupped palms, and a few of the boys whistled and clapped, whooping to Otto about 'kicking that bitch's ass'. Huffing, mumbling a short apology about being late to English class, he plonked down at the desk next to Twister - the kid who was occupying it a few seconds before has scuttled to another free seat, not wanting to get in Otto's way.

His face had a few scratches on it, his eyes also starting to purple, a speck of blood that hadn't been washed away sitting on his cheek. A split in his upper lip was stinging painfully, and his tongue pushed at a slightly dislodged tooth, which he knew he'd probably have to get checked out by the dentist later. His shoulders felt unusually heaving, and a quite a few bruises ran down his body, hidden by his clothing. A small rip at the sleeve seams of his shirt could be easily fixed, and his was glad over that, considering this shirt was one of his favourites. Removing his cracked glasses - a different pair than what he usually wore, and he deemed himself lucky for that - he sighed inwardly.

"So what happened, Otto-man?"

"VP Kuoha was absolutely tweaked. But not as tweaked as Raymundo will be when he hears that I'm suspended until God knows when..."

"Harsh. But you know the rules, dude."

"Yeah. It's just that she... ugh. She said some shit I need to think over, but... argh!" He brought his hands up to cradle his head gently. "She is such a... ugh. I dunno. I hate her, and I don't even know her."

It was lunchtime. Clutching her somewhat squashed (as it was homemade, and her bag was pummeled along with her, for it had been hanging off her shoulder when Otto struck) salad roll, Lee nibbled at it boredly. She wasn't all that hungry; her body had a number of aches that she desperately needed to nurse more than her stomach. It was just like a bad fall from a big air in her opinion, except the concrete didn't have fists. Fiddling in her pocket, she pressed a few buttons on her mp3 player, a small crack lacing across the screen. A click of a gun, a guitar intro and a scream of 'get down! yeah!' filled her ears. "Woo! Get down!"

"I'm lying to myself, and this dagger's my excuse. I'm apalled; I should have paid up..." Looking down, she tisked, noting the long rip down the middle of her black Unearth shirt - a front screen featuring a photo montage of skyscrapers and uniformed officers in riot gear - leaving her collar hangng by a few bare threads. The knees of her jeans were scuffed, and three inches of the left sleeve of her white long-sleeved BAM top was ripped cleanly off. "...And I hate light - you know I hate light. Don't make it look so pretty burning..."

"Burn the sun. Burn the light. Take take take take take take it away..." Her temple had a small bandage stuck on, and her right eye was quickly darkening to purple, swollen to the point that she had to keep it closed to minimise the pain. She was bloody lucky none of her piercings had been ripped out by Otto's blows, but the small bruise by her mouth was awfully close to the ring that penetrated her lip. Stretching, trying to ignore the searing pain in her back, pointing to toes of her stark-white globes to the sky, she laid back on the schoolground grass, closing her eyes midway. "I must have caught something, in the heat of all these dances... I'm a worm with no more chances, and I've lost all doubt in a chemical romance."

A shadow obscured most of the light that had been shining on her. Muttering, she opened her eyes quickly, shutting them just as fast, not bothering to sit up or even have a look who it was. "...Go away." "I guess I'm bitching at the thoughts of tarnished hope. It's kind of funny,"

"The only feeling; I'm not in love," The figure smirked as she opened her eyes into a squint, leaning over her. "I must congratulate you on giving that Rocket shrimp a run for his money earlier. For a girl you obviously pull some fast punches."

"You know it's not love. Don't make it look so pretty burning." Heaving a sigh, figuring this person wasn't going to leave without a conversation, she painfully pulled herself up to prop against her elbows, quickly switching her mp3 player off. "What's it to you?"

He stood a bit straighter, taken aback by her dangerous tone, but not enough to retreat. "Can't I give you a simple pat on the back?"

"No, no you can't, beause I'm too fucking sore. Can't you just admire me from afar or something? I'm really not in the mood."

"Oh, I can put you in the mood, trust me," he purred confidently.

She lowered her chin to her collarbone, regarding him with a tired stare. "Look, just go away."

"Not until after a decent introduction," he insisted, not willing to back down.

"Fine then. I'm Lee Wickliffe, I'm a skateboarder, I recently moved here from the East Coast and I really want to be left alone."

The boy dipped into a quick bow, not a formal one but he thought better than to try to get a handshake or anything else out of her at the moment, grinning lopsidedly. His deeply tanned skin was covered by a thin-material zip-up grey jacket, five red stars (gradually getting larger the higher up they went) printed diagonaly across the torso. Low-riden jeans were held up by a three-row pyramid belt, a bare inch of his boxers visible between his jeans and his jacket. Dark crimson high tops were covered by heavily ripped and scuffed jean edges. Messily wavy, nose-length hair stuck out from beneath his grey beanie, a few strands marring his cold grey eyes. A gap was in his smile, and a ring hung from the right side of his lip.

Smiling slyly, he spoke. "If you have bothered to visit the girl's bathrooms, you may see the charming things written about me." He leant forward again, eyes half-closed. "I'm Lars Rodriguez."

A/N: Lars doesn't give up easily, does he? Hehe. Lee probably would've kicked him if she could be bothered.

The song on Lee's mp3 player was 'Take It Away' by the Used. I don't own the song and never said I did. And thus ends saving my ass for copyrighted thingsin this chapter.

Please excuse any spelling and grammatical errors. (:

Please REVIEW! I'd really appreciate it!

Review Responses:

not-right-now62: Aww, thanks for the comment! I'm glad you like my story. Yeah, I don't think this rivalry between Lee and Otto is going to die just yet. Lee's got attitude, but she's also got a big mouth. (; Hopefully she learns to keep her mouth shut a little more as the story continues, but you'll just have to see.