Chapter Three

Regardless of what Artemis's feelings were about her bodyguards before (especially Davy), she began to really resent her parents' decision the next day.

"No, really, you guys," she said. They stood outside the high gates of her school. "I can take it from here. Honestly."

"I'm sure you can," Butler said. "But it is our duty to watch your every move."

"We don't make the rules," Davy said. "Your parents sign our paycheck."

Artemis shouldered her backpack and grunted. "This is bull." Everyone would stare now, and not because she would throw milk at Rhi's crowd in the cafeteria or because she would start blasting music during study hall, but because she was flanked by these giants. Not everyone who went to her school was from a rich family, but now everyone would know that she was. It was not something she wanted. No friends was better than fake friends.

"Could you guys just hang out for the next six and a half hours? I'll be fine. There's a nice café about a block or two that way. Great coffee, I swear."

"That is not what we are paid for," Butler said.

"Is that all you care about?" Artemis said. "Your precious salary? If you're my bodyguards you're supposed to care for me, and that includes giving me a bit of slack."

Davy took off his sunglasses and gave Artemis a look that shrunk her to about the size of a dime. "As your bodyguards we are supposed to protectyou. Caring for you does not even come into the equation."

Artemis nodded slowly. "Okay," she said. "That's cool too."

Artemis was thankful, however, that her bodyguards stayed outside of the classrooms. During her classes they would wait for her in the hallway. Once she came out, they were at her shoulders again, expressions just as stony as they were when she went in.

And they were still close by her side when she walked into the peer tutoring building after school. The autumn afternoon light exaggerated the artificial glow of the hallway, the glossy shine off the blue and white tiles on the floor that made Artemis's shoes go tap tap tap intimidatingly as she made her way to the classroom. She reached out for the doorknob.

"Here we are," she said.

Davy had his gargantuan hand on her shoulder. "Nice try," he said. "I believe it's that one."

"You sure?" Artemis said.

"Yes. That one. The one with no windows."

Artemis shrugged off his hand. "Gee, I could really use a classroom with windows right now."

"I know you could," Butler said. "But it makes our job much easier if there's only one way out."

"How did you manage that?"

"Don't worry about it."

Artemis knew they had specifically asked for her to be tutored in a classroom with no windows. If she tried to escape out of a window during school, the security guards would have nabbed her right away, but the security guards went home after school. Much better than hanging around a school full of posh rich kids and pseudo-rich kids.

"You know," Artemis said as they escorted her to the correct classroom, "I'm getting the feeling you guys are more like prison guards than bodyguards."

Butler opened the door for her. "One hour," she said.

"I know, I know." Artemis waved her hands over her head and entered the classroom.

Nearly all the desks were taken. That was okay, she didn't know where to sit anyway. So she leaned against the wall, crossed her arms, and waited until someone noticed her.

"Artemis?"

She hadn't noticed anyone approach her. She supposed nerds were used to being stealthy; there must be some way they made their way around school without attracting attention. She looked up to see a boy standing before her. He was a tall boy, with dark hair and thick-rimmed glasses, a dull yellow polo shirt and khakis.

"That's my name," Artemis said. "Don't wear it out."

The boy smiled. He had braces. He was kind of cute, she admitted, for a shut-in. He held out his hand. "I'm—"

"Yeah, yeah," Artemis said. "My tutor, right?" She looked down at his outstretched hand, gave him a single eyebrow raise, and said, "Well, get on with it. I don't have all the time in the world."

The boy put his hand back in his pocket. "Yes, well, your counselor said you needed help with … algebra, right? And biology?"

"And English and history and French. Basically, everything except gym. You don't have to water it down for me. I get it. I'm a dunce. Now where do I sit?"

"Right here." He led her to a table and pulled out her chair for her. He sat himself across the table from her. On his side were a calculator, three pencils, two pens, and a stack of textbooks. On her side was a thoroughly annoyed teenage girl who would really have preferred to be somewhere else. "What would you like to begin with?"

Artemis leaned back in her chair. "It's not like I give a damn."

The boy frowned. "Why don't we just start algebra."

"Why?"

"Because it's your first period class."

"It is?"

"You didn't know that?"

Artemis shrugged. "Hell if I know. I cut it half the time."

The boy took the algebra textbook from the stack on the table. "I'll help you out on the homework for tomorrow. Page sixty-eight, right?"

"I guess so," Artemis said. "How do you know that?"

"I'm in your class."

"Oh."

"Page sixty-eight."

The boy was no more helpful than her teacher. Possibly because Artemis was hardly listening now, like she hardly listened in class. She couldn't help it if math wasn't her thing, or biology, or English, or French, or history. She turned to look out the window, but then she remembered there were no windows in this dreary classroom.

"Are you listening?"

"Yes," Artemis said. "Well, no, not really."

The boy pushed his glasses further up his nose. "Look, Artemis," he said. "I can't help you if you aren't going to listen."

"Apologies, sir."

The boy looked at her, brow furrowed, leaning on his elbows on the desk. Artemis could see herself in his glasses.

"What are you going to do when you get out of here?"

"Huh?" Artemis said. "What do you mean? Get out of where?"

"High school," the boy said. "What do you want to do after you graduate?"

No one had ever asked her that before. Or, actually, they probably had; she just hadn't been listening. She laughed. "Assuming I graduate..."

"Well then, listen!" the boy said. Then he blushed. "Sorry. I'm just a little frustrated."

Artemis smirked. "It is because I probably won't graduate, or my stunning good looks?"

"I could live without the latter, but the former will reflect heavily on my ability as a peer tutor," the boy said. "Now tell me, what answer did you get for problem twenty-seven?"

Artemis pulled the book over toward herself. She scratched her head. "Four. Obviously."

"Sure," the boy said. "It could be four. If you disregard the order of operations, that is."

Artemis looked over to the door. "I'll never get this."

"Yes, you will. It's easy. You learned about this in junior high."

And so for the time being, all was well. Later, she would wish it could have stayed that way.

A/N: You know the drill: if you liked it, review. If not, review anyway and tell me what to fix. That would make EVERYBODY happy! :D

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