Author's note: I wrote this in an hour! I'm so proud! Oh, and I'm really sorry to anyone under 16 for the maths lesson bit, but that's what revision does to you.

Gemma looked at the page if numbers in front of her with just three words flying through her head: What the smeg?
She hated Mr Richardson more than ever. She tapped her pen impatiently on the floor, willing the answer to enter her brain…but it never did. She sighed, packed away all her homework stuff and went to bed. She lay in the darkness playing with her hair. She heard her mum come in (it might have been Gemma's imagination, but she could swear her mum was singing), talk to the babysitter, and then go to bed. She sat up and ran her hand over the red velvet book that stood on her bedside cabinet; it was the only thing her father had ever given her, and as she got older she suspected that it was actually her mother that had got it for her. Not that she really resented either of them for it: she loved her mother so much for just being there, and she had never even met her father so she couldn't hate him. But sometimes she wished she had a father type figure. This made her think of Rimmer – he'd been the first person to come even close to what Gemma wanted: he showed a genuine interest in her, he stuck up for her and they had begun to strike up a special bond. With this in mind, she slipped out of her bed quietly, trying not to wake her older sister, Faiyre. Faiyre remained adamant that she was happy with the way things were, just her, Gemma and their mother, but Gemma knew better; she knew she wanted another parent just as much as she did. She walked out of the room and through the lounge to the door, slipping on her dressing gown as she went.

Rimmer listened outside his door for any signs of Lister and his lady friends, but they seemed to have moved on. He entered the room and flopped on his bed, sighing contently. He couldn't remember ever being this happy! He nestled his head into his pillow and was beginning to drift off when he heard a knock at the door. He reluctantly heaved himself to his feet and opened it.
"Gemma?" he asked in surprise.
"Hi!" she said as though she'd only just spotted him.
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"I wanted to see you."
Rimmer couldn't help but feel touched, but he pushed it to one side, "Gemma, you really need to get back to your room. You might get into trouble."
"Can't we talk for a bit?"
She sounded so sincere. Rimmer fought with his instinct, but he eventually allowed her in.
"Quickly," he said, "Lister will probably be back soon and then we'll both be in a dilemma."

He sat next to her on his bed, "So what's the problem?"
Where do I start? Gemma thought.
"I hate my maths teacher," she said, "He set me all this extra homework and I don't understand any of it. I can't do maths to save my life."
Rimmer stared at her, puzzled, "Surely you can so some."
Gemma shook her head. Rimmer frowned, got a pencil and some paper, printed '2 x 2' on it and handed it to Gemma who looked at him confused.
"Do it," he said simply. She took the pencil hesitantly and wrote a big '4'.
"So you can do some maths," Rimmer said with a smile.
"Yeah, but two times two is easy. It's not even a sum, it's just a phrase that's implanted in your mind from the age of three."
"OK," Rimmer said taking the pencil and paper, "Try this."
He handed it back. Gemma read the '2 x 3' and wrote '6'.
"What's this for?" Gemma asked.
"You'll see," he said, writing yet another sum.
'2 x ? equals8'
"I don't get it."
"Well, what times two equals eight?"
"Er, four?"
"Yep. How did you work that out?"
"I just knew it."
"Right, well try this one," he said handing the paper back again.
'6 x ? equals 30'
"Oh, I don't know the six times table!"
"Just try and answer it."
After a minute or so, Gemma printed '5' on the paper.
"Is that right?"
"Yes."
"Wow, that was easy! I don't think I did it the right way, though."
"How did you do it?"
"I didn't use the six times table. I kept dividing thirty by different numbers until I got six."
"That's OK," Rimmer assured her, "That's how I do difficult sums as well."
"You?" Gemma asked, "Why do you need to do sums, you don't do maths."
"You need maths wherever you go," Rimmer said, "Whether it's paying for something, or telling the time, or even just counting something out."
"I didn't realise it was so important," she said, then looked at the three sums she had worked out by herself.

She grinned cheekily, "Are you going to at least try to challenge me?"
Rimmer smiled back, "Alright, have a go at this."
Gemma read it and her face fell: '3y equals 24', the exact same equation she had got stuck on in her homework.
"I can't do that," she stated simply.
"Why not? You've got the basics sorted."
"I don't even know where to begin."
"OK," Rimmer shifted a little to a more comfortable position, "Do you know what the 'y' means?"
"No. Not a clue. I mean, I know that the whole thing means 'three times something or other equals fifteen' but I don't know the answer."
"So we're trying to figure out what 'y' equals, yes?"
"Yes."
"Let's get 'y' by itself, then. Now, when you fiddle about with equations, you have to make sure the stuff on either side of the equals sign are the same, so whatever you do to one side you have to do with the other. With me so far?"
"Yes," she said, amazed that she actually understood.
"OK, so to get 'y' by itself we need to do what?"
"Er…get rid of the three somehow?"
"Exactly," Rimmer felt so proud, "And to get rid of something, you do the opposite of what it's doing to begin with."
"What?"
"Yeah, I confused myself saying that."
Gemma giggled.
"Let me put it another way: because at the moment the three is being multiplied by the 'y' we have to do the opposite."
"Divide," Gemma supplied.
"Yes. So we divide the 'y' by three."
"But don't you have to divide the fifteen by three as well? You know, because whatever you do to one side you have to do to the other."
"Spot on."
"So then you'd have…" Gemma took the paper and wrote 'y equals8' on it.
"That's it!"
"That's it?" Gemma asked in disbelief. It seemed too easy.
"You can check it to see if it's right by substitution. Just replace the 'y' with eight."
Gemma did so: '3 x 8 equals 24'.
"Oh my God, that is right!"
"Didn't your maths teacher tell you how to do this?"
"Not really. He just gave us some examples, but he didn't explain what he was doing and it confused me."
"Hm," Rimmer pondered, "I might have a word with him. Mr Richardson wasn't it?"
"Yes, but please don't. He hates me enough."
"He doesn't hate you. No one could hate you."
Then why do I have no friends?

A couple of minutes later she started making her way back, more proud of herself than she had ever been. She got her homework stuff out again and started to fill out all the answer boxes finding very little difficulty.
"Gemma, what on earth are you doing up at this hour?" her mother asked from behind her.
"Oh please, Mum, I just had a sudden brainwave about my homework. I won't be long honest."
"Well, OK. But I want this light turned out in half an hour, alright?"
"Sure."
Gemma worked hard for the next thirty minutes and solved more maths problems than she had done her entire life.

A couple of levels down, Rimmer had got out a book called 'Maths Studies – Foundation and Intermediate Level' and started reading, writing out sums and equations and solving them until he could do it with his eyes shut.
"Rimmer," Lister mumbled from the top bunk, "What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm working, Lister. Didn't think you'd recognise it."
"Ha ha. Why are you working so late?"
"Because…I am." Rimmer said bluntly. He didn't tell Lister the truth because he knew he'd just laugh. He turned the page and began the section on linear graphs.
"Rimmer, please can I turn out the light?"
Rimmer suddenly felt a wave of tiredness sweep over him. He rubbed his eyes and nodded, "OK then."
He wandered over to his bed and fell asleep thinking about the unusual and fantastic events that had happened that evening.