blah blah blah...you know how it goes.

again, some more notes at the bottom


The bell rang, signaling the end of a seemingly endless art class, and John and Abby grabbed their bags and pushed their way out into the hall.

"Thank God it's lunch time," John exclaimed.

"I think you're the only person I know who actually gets excited about cafeteria food," Abby told him, finally grabbing onto the strap of his bookbag so she didn't get separated in the crush of students in the hallway.

"I'm a growing boy–food excites me."

"Yeah, but it's cafeteria food. You may be growing and need nourishment and all that crap, but this stuff can kill you."

"You're a half-empty kind of gal, aren't you?" he asked, looking over at her, then realizing that she wasn't beside him, but behind him. "Having some trouble?"

"I'm a little person. I tend to get lost in the mix."

Reaching behind, John grabbed Abby's arm and moved her next to him. "I'll keep you safe," he told her, not relinquishing his hold on her.

"Aww, the big strong man is gonna protect the itty bitty woman," Abby teased, though she couldn't fight the little shiver that ran through her body at the feeling of his arm on hers.

"It's a dirty job, but somebody's gotta do it," he answered, steering her toward the cafeteria doors.

Susan finally came into sight, and Abby noticed that she looked a little pale and slightly nauseous. "What's up with her?"

"Have you forgotten already?"

"Apparently, since I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Judgment Day."

"Huh?"

"Report cards?"

"Oh yeah. Susan told me not to open mine until lunch today, but didn't say why. Care to clue me in?"

John shrugged. "Moral support. We've been doing it for years: We wait until our lunch break to check out our grades so we have someone around to take the edge off."

"Okay, but that doesn't explain why Susan looks like she's about to pass out. Are her report cards usually that scary?"

"Not really. She just worries a lot. I think it's that whole 'hope for the worst, expect the best' mentality. If she sets herself up for failure, she's pleasantly surprised when her grades are good."

Unable to wait, Susan hurried over to them and grabbed Abby's free arm, making a mental note of the fact that John was inches away from holding the other girl's hand, but pushed it to the back of her mind for the moment. "Come on," she said, leading the two of them toward the dining area. "I can't handle the suspense much longer."

"I refuse to do this on an empty stomach," John stated. "We've been over this a billion times, I don't know why you think it's going to change now." He headed toward the line for food.

"How can you eat at a time like this?" Susan exclaimed, trying to go into the dining room.

"Don't be so dramatic, woman. It's just a report card. You'll get through it," John told her, still trying to get into line.

Abby gave a tug on both of her arms, bringing her friends to a halt. "As much fun as this is, I'm not made of Silly Putty. Decide on one direction, please."

The other two had the good grace to look sheepish and release Abby's arms. "Fine," Susan relented. "We'll go get food first."

"Okay. You guys ready?" Susan asked once they had made it through the lunch line and managed to find somewhere to sit down. The other two nodded in unison.

Abby couldn't quite figure out what the big deal was about. As long as she didn't give her teachers a reason for a conference with her mother, she was set. Before she'd realized what was happening, the other two were tearing open the envelopes containing the dreaded pieces of paper. Shrugging, she followed suit and opened hers.

A few seconds later, Susan thrust her hands over her head and yelped out, "YES!"

"You skin has been saved for another semester?" John asked.

"Oh, indeed it has my friend. One C, four B's, and two A's. Susan Lewis shall live to see another day."

"Excellent. Though, I must admit I was kind of looking forward to your demise."

"Hardy-har. How'd yours turn out?"

"Umm..." he paused for a moment, scanning once again. "Four A's and three B's. Not too shabby."

"Oh, my name's John Carter. I made four A's. I'm so special," Susan mocked in a high pitched voice.

"Hey, lay off–I didn't brag at all about my superior brain power."

"Yet."

Abby saw Susan cringe as John kicked her under the table and couldn't help but smile. Hanging out with the two of them for the past couple of months had made the transition between schools more than bearable. It felt great to have two such close friends who actually gave a damn about her life. Well, what they knew of her life thus far. That's when she realized that the two of them were staring at her.

"What?"

"We're waiting," Susan said in a sing-song voice, her mood definitely lighter now that she knew death wasn't imminent.

"For...?"

"Your grades. Give it up. How'd you do? Are your weekends still free, or will we be without your company for the next few weeks while you burn the midnight oil trying to make up for this semester."

"God, I hope that's not the case," John said. "I've gotten really used to hanging out with someone who's, well...not you."

"You're a real riot today, you know that? I don't need this kind of abuse. The door's right over there–don't let it hit you where the good lord split ya. I've got Abby to keep me company."

"What makes you so sure she'd want to hang around with you and not me?"

"'Cause I've got dibs," Susan answered with a smirk.

"Dibs? How do you have dibs?"

"I saw her first."

"That's not fair. I can't help my class schedule."

The two of them heard a little chuckle and looked over to see a thoroughly amused Abby watching the exchange like a tennis match. She threw her hands in air in mock-surrender. "Please, don't stop on my account."

"Sorry," the other two mumbled in unison.

"You're not my property, I shouldn't treat you as such," Susan told her, doing her very best to look ashamed, though not quite pulling it off.

"Yeah, Susan. Don't treat her like property," John said, grinning.

Susan opened her mouth to respond, but quickly shut it, not interested in getting into another battle of wills with John. "Anyway, how'd you do."

Abby shrugged. "I did all right."

"All right as in 'I'll try harder next semester,' or all right as in 'I can make this F look like an A'?"

"Just all right."

Susan nodded, seemingly accepting that explanation. But before Abby realized it, Susan had reached across the table and grabbed the report card out of Abby's hand.

Susan was silent for a moment before she put the piece of paper on the table in front of her. "If that's your definition of 'all right,' I can't even imagine what your 'outstanding' standards would be."

"So I made a few A's. So what?"

"A 'few?' Since when is 'all' classified as a 'few?' And it's not that you just got A's...it's that out of a possible one hundred, you got between a ninety-eight and one hundred in every class."

John's eyes widened. "Geez. And you said you wanted to cheat off me in Algebra?"

Abby just shrugged once more and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for Susan to continue, as she knew she would.

Sure enough... "Out of curiosity, what was your placing in your last school?"

"My placing?"

"Yeah, your rank. I'm guessing you were easily in the top 5 percent, but were these kind of grades the norm? I mean, did you go to some sort of Stepford school, or were you already well-
positioned for valedictorian?"

"I don't know," Abby mumbled, suddenly very interested in her lunch.

Susan and John exchanged looks, realizing that there was still a lot that they didn't know about their new friend. Susan changed the tone in her voice and tried again. "Abby...it's not like we're going to judge you or mock you or start using you for your brains or whatever. Honestly, I'm just curious."

Abby sighed and bit her lip. It wasn't that she thought that anything bad would come of her talking about her grades, it was just that she wasn't used to sharing things about her life. "Yeah, I guess it's possible that I could've been looking at the whole 'head of the class' thing at my last school. But, to tell the truth, freshman year was a little early to be thinking about that stuff, at least in my book. I didn't really think about what my rank was in my class."

"Fair enough. But, are you one of those people who never really has to crack a book to pass a class, or...?"

"Sort of, I guess. I mean, yeah, a lot of it does come easy to me, but I study anyway. I want to make sure my grades stay up. And, before you can ask," Abby said, interrupting Susan, whose mouth was already open to ask another question. "It's for college. I don't know if I'm terribly worried about getting in to something somewhere, but I need to find a school that's willing to pay for me to go there. I'd rather not be in debt for the rest of my life, paying off college loans, still complaining about the injustice of being forced to go to school for free for thirteen years, but then having to pay an arm and a leg, not to mention my first born, just so I can willingly get a higher education."

"I know what you mean," Susan said. "My parents don't have a college fund for me, either. But I've long since realized that I'm not going to get some massive scholarship to pay for four years of college, so I'm going to apply for every grant humanly possible. Not to mention the little random scholarships that everyone forgets about. I'm still hoping to find one goes to the second born blonde daughter in a dysfunctional family of four."

Abby couldn't help but laugh. "Let me know if you find that one."

"Well, now I feel kinda bad," John said.

"Why's that?"

"Because I don't have to worry about how I'm going to pay for college. That's why I haven't been too worried about trying to get a scholarship–I think it should go to someone who actually needs it, you know?"

"There's nothing wrong with that," Susan said.

"And it's not your fault that your family has money, you know. Don't feel bad about things you have no control over," Abby added.

"Yeah, but still..." his voice trailed off. "How about I talk to my grandparents, maybe see if I can set up a couple of quote/unquote scholarships for close friends of John Truman Carter III?"

Abby just shook her head and chuckled some more. "Thanks, but I think I'll manage."

Susan tossed Abby's report card across the table. "Don't be so hasty. The boy might be onto something."


Author's Notes: First of all, I honestly do appreciate all of the feedback I've been getting. It's amazing the kind of support I'm getting for this thing. Secondly, I've reloaded chapter 3 cuz there were quite a few typos in it. I was crazy with sleep deprivation at that point, and I can honestly say I don't remember writing half of that one.

So, I used a lot of the American grading system in this one–if you're unfamiliar with it, I'll be more than happy to give you a run down. I apologize for taking so long to get this one out, and I don't know if it was worth the wait. Again, I know exactly where I want this to go, but I just have to figure out how to get from A to Z, you know? This chapter was mainly to establish Abby as a smartie, but I think it's kind of fun. And, for anyone who's wondering, I already have the next chapter in the works. It all boils down to when my next day off is, and if I have the energy to write. But, it has some Carby interaction type stuff, so just bear with me. I promise, I'll get you there. Oh, and by the way, to the Brothel...where ye be?