Author's Note: I'm probably never going to write a class that Jane doesn't share with Lisbon. :) It would bore me too much. That said, Jane might seem a little OOC, but he's a teenager. As is Lisbon. They're gonna be different than their adult selves. And yes, I realize Wainwright is younger than them in the show. Just wait. You'll probably get what I'm doing soon. If not, you can point out your concerns again later.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist and would not be foolish enough to claim to.

Jane stepped into the classroom amid bustle and scuffle, as the other students hurried to their workstations and started pulling things out. He was far more sedate in his approach, looking for the teacher as he sat before an empty easel and wondered what on earth he was supposed to do.

Of all the classes he was taking, third period Art was definitely the one that was making him the most nervous. He had needed an elective, and while he knew how to play a mean tuba background for a rather amusing knife-throwing trick, most of his musical skill stopped at appreciation. His singing voice wasn't bad, granted, but it wasn't that great either, at least not in his opinion.

He looked the white stretch of paper before him up and down almost suspiciously.

It was far too elusive for his comfort. It sat there, lying to him, taunting him that it wouldn't be as hard as all that. However, he had tried his hand at drawing before. What had been intended to be a picture of a dog had morphed into something resembling an upside-down airplane.

"Alright, get out your charcoal, we're gonna keep going with the section on shading till Mrs. Frye gets here."

Jane turned, recognizing the voice but unsure why at first. Then he froze.

It was the girl from his first period, the one that sat behind him.

Even if he hadn't been able to tell by the way her hair fell in front of her face to hide it, he would recognize that jean jacket and the same hole-ridden black shoes anywhere. Slowly, he turned his head down so he could look out of his eyelashes without anyone noticing. Then he couldn't help but stare, since he could.

She was short. Far shorter than he had first supposed, but compact too, in a way that made her seem taller than she actually was. It looked like she had more muscle than he ever would despite the difference in their size. Old jeans with holes worn in them stretched her slim legs and her fingers were jammed into the pockets. One hand in front, the other in a back pocket, which made him raise an eyebrow. Interesting. He followed her form upward. Because her dark hair was still mostly covering her face, he still couldn't see her eyes. She talked from her chest, slightly curled in on herself, as though she was disgruntled about having to even be here. Or like she was bored.

When Jane finally realized he had begun staring too openly, he raised his hand to cover himself.

"Yeah, what?" The girl had glanced at him, but turned away quickly to gather something in the front corner of the room near the teacher's desk.

She was too fast for him to spy her eyes. "Uh, I'm new." Was all he could think to say. Why was he feeling so tongue-tied? This was ridiculous. He swallowed forcefully to regain the use of speech.

"Yeah." She didn't turn back to him but waved carelessly at the far wall, where half was large windows looking out on the schools fields and the other large cupboards. "Supplies are in the cupboards. Help yourself. The teacher will be here soon."

He stumbled a little to his feet and could only hope she hadn't noticed. "Um, are you like the class leader?" He asked sociably as he began to search the cupboards. She hadn't specified which one.

"TA." She grunted succinctly. Then she summarily ended the discussion by putting large headphones on her ears and turning on the stereo by the teachers desk.

Jane sighed and pulled out a large pail with bits of dark charcoal sticks inside. So help him, he was going to get that girl to look at him if it took him the rest of the school year. He sighed, shook the pail and pulled out a reasonably sized piece. It was soft in his palm as he moved back to his paper. Maybe he just wasn't used to being ignored by young ladies. He was handsome, cute even, he had been told and that was usually enough to at least garner an inspection. Perhaps that was why her lack of direct eye contact was irking him so much. He looked at her again out of the corner of his eye.

She was nodding her head to the music blaring through the headphones, her piece of charcoal moving over the paper almost carelessly.

Almost unconsciously, he mirrored her movements. At least he was good at that. He didn't look at his paper once, knowing that would spoil his concentration. When she jerk her shoulder up, he did the same, trying to make the charcoal flow like she was.

The classroom door opened.

A curly haired, pretty woman came inside, not garnering a single odd look as she set her bag on the teachers table. She must be Mrs. Frye.

The girl pulled on earphone off her head to speak quietly with the woman for a moment, tilting her head in his direction minutely.

The teacher nodded, smiled at the girl's paper, and made her way over to him.

He had long since stopped emulating the girl TA and instead struggled not to blush as Mrs. Frye came up behind him.

She stopped, a frown marring her almost fragile looking features. She looked back up front at her TA and then back at his paper.

Jane did the same. His didn't really look like anything to him yet, but the teacher seemed to see similarities. He hoped she wouldn't say anything.

Seeming to read his mind, she just smiled down at him softly, like she knew something he didn't and introduced herself. "Hello. I'm Mrs. Frye. You must be Patrick." She put a hand on his shoulder and he suddenly felt warm. Then she drew away, getting out a book and showing him where they were in their lessons. For the rest of the class, she kept an eye on both him and her TA, looking back and forth between their work.

He didn't directly mimic the girl again while under the teachers watchful gaze, but couldn't help himself at times. Whenever he caught himself at it, he would chance a peek at Mrs. Frye and find her with a mischievous smirk curling her lips.

Finally the bell rang and he finished cleaning his hands as the girl darted from the room. Up front, Mrs. Frye smiled and turned her TA's work around so that he could see it. Half-way across the room, his shared remarkable similarities. He felt both proud and a little embarrassed that he had been so easy for the art teacher to read. The girl's picture however, stole his attention away.

Where his was merely black charcoal, she had changed to a different color at some point. The medium was unfamiliar to him, unsurprisingly, but striking nonetheless. Red streaks filled out the charcoal's black holes, yellow highlighted the curves and a strange startling green dotted two points like gemstones.

Jane nodded his head at the teacher as she put the drawing away in the alcove marked merely 'TA' and gathered his things to head out to his next class.

Yet still, as he walked the crowded halls of the school, he couldn't help but wonder.

Who had the woman in the TA's drawing been?