Author's Note: I LOVE Gemma! She'll probably make a return in another fanfic somewhere in the not-too-distant future. Anyway, here's another one for ya, R&R as always and enjoy.

"Gemma!" Mr Richardson's sharp voice barked from the front of the classroom. She'd done it again; she'd started daydreaming.
"What?"
"Can you tell me the answer?"
Of course she couldn't! It was algebra! She didn't know the first thing about algebra! She just stared at him.
"Well?" he asked impatiently.
"Well what?"
"What does x equal?"
Gemma looked at the board and saw some very complicated symbols, half of which meant nothing to her.
"I don't know."
Mr Richardson sighed, "Please try, Gemma."
"I am trying," Gemma replied through gritted teeth.
"I don't think you are. I'm starting to lose my temper and patience with you, and unless you buck up-"
"I DON'T CARE!" Gemma interrupted. Every head in the class turned to the drama unfolding in front of them, "I've never been good at all this mathsy stuff and you know it! You ALWAYS pick on me! It's not FAIR!"
"Gemma, calm down," he said putting a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off.
"NO! Not until you listen! I don't want to be in this stupid class. I'm only here because my mum can't look after me during the day!"
She heard someone in the class whisper 'workoholic' and that's what really set her off. She went over to the boy who had said it and hit him hard. Before Mr Richardson could say anything she had stormed out of the door and was running down the corridor, hot tears pricking her eyes.

She knew her mother was a busy person, with her job and looking after two children all by herself. Faiyre, Gemma's older sister, sometimes helped out, but she still went to a therapist about her stress. It worried Gemma sometimes how often she would go and leave them with some random, ship-issued baby-sitter – if they HAD to be left by themselves, why couldn't it be with someone who knew and understood them, someone who could build up a rapport with them? It was then she ran into a familiar face.
"Gemma!" Rimmer exclaimed. Gemma forced a weak smile, "What's wrong?" he asked. Gemma looked at the floor and burst into tears again. Rimmer knelt down beside her and put his arm round her, "What's wrong?" he repeated.
"It's my Mum…no, it's school…no…I don't know! Everything is so messed up and I just don't know what to do!"
Rimmer hugged her tighter, "It's OK. Honestly, everything will be fine."
Mr Richardson strode up in front of them, "Gemma! Get back in that classroom now!"
Rimmer stood up to confront him, despite being a good four inches shorter, "Er, who exactly are you? And what's the problem?"
"I'm Mr Richardson, Gemma's maths teacher. And that girl is an impertinent, rude little so-and-so. She needs to be put in her place, and that's what I intend to do. Come on, child." He gestured for Gemma to go back in the room, but Rimmer placed a gentle hand on her arm.
"Gemma is an impertinent, rude girl? This little girl here who has just been crying on my shoulder?" Gemma looked up at him. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. This man who had met her once before was sticking up for her and seeming to be having a great time in doing so; no one had ever done that for her before, not in 14 years, not even her own mother!
"You think she needs to be put in her place?" Rimmer continued, "Well, I think you could do with taking down a peg or two yourself! Can't you see you're making her miserable? Just leave her alone, OK?"
Mr Richardson looked shocked, "Gemma," he said, forcefully, but much more quietly, "Be back in maths in five minutes." He turned slowly and walked away.
Rimmer stood stock still; he had never done anything like that before, not in 28 years, discounting the odd row with Lister. Gemma looked as stunned as he felt.
"That was…" she whispered, "that was…incredible…"
"I can't feel my knees!" Rimmer suddenly realised, and gripped onto the side of the trolley to stop himself keeling over.
"That was incredible," Gemma repeated even more quietly.
"So," Rimmer asked after gaining a little more composure, "What happened exactly?"
"I'm not sure. It all went in…in a bit of a blur, I…" she took a deep breath, "I yelled at my teacher, hit a boy in my class and stormed out…I think."
Rimmer's eyes widened a little, "Well, that's not good!"
"I know!"
"Look, Gemma, maybe you should get back. Mr Richardson didn't look too pleased with you."
Gemma nodded numbly and let her legs carry her back.

When she got home her mother was waiting for her. And she didn't look happy.
"I got a call from Mr Richardson this afternoon," she said. Gemma bowed her head.
"Sorry, Mum."
Gemma's mother just looked at her daughter before going over to her and hugging her, "Look, Gem, I know it's hard. I know you'd rather I was around more. But I am starting to get my life back on track, I promise. In fact, I got a date not long ago! So there you go, you might have a new daddy!"
"Mum, I'm not eight years old any more, you can't force that 'new daddy' stuff on me now."
"Oh," she said disheartened, "Well, I…I just thought you might be pleased."
Gemma rolled her eyes, "I've gotta go do my maths homework. The Eradicator Of Good Humour gave me extra."
"Please, dear, call him Mr Richardson."
"He doesn't deserve a pronoun," Gemma called back as she grabbed an apple and made for her room.